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As I stand before the mountain of confidence called hope, I see a clear path up, not too steep, not too straight, but this path is embodied with rewards to the top.

At the top, there is a magnificent tree made of gold, silver leaves and Copper roots. Hope mountain held a perfect prize awaiting me, a Tree called Faith.
This sight to behold was everything I wanted, everything before me was so clear, but at the bottom where I was, there was a River.

This River was called Shame.
This river was filthy, the water was calm where I was, but looking downstream I could see the rapids of rage, the ripples of conditioning before the raging rapids were inviting.

The dreary stonewalling fortification on the banks allowed no light through, downstream was scary and looked impossible, why would I go that way? why even look?
I looked upstream and saw a blinding light, what could this be? I was so curious, so I waited, a true gentleman always waits.

Two days later the light took shape, as it came closer I could finally see, I could see a lifeboat with a caring nurturing beautiful woman.

As this beautiful woman came closer, I could see the river was being supplied by this woman, I could see she was the source.

The river of Shame was being fed by this woman, this filth in front of me was coming from her, but the beauty was something I've never seen, this beauty had me curious.

This beauty made me forget of the supply to the river.
  What I saw wasn't real all the sudden, what I believed was now real.
She came close enough for my heart to be heard, since she had no heart she was envious, she hated what others admired.

She wanted my wholesome heart, so she used her falsehood love bombing to create one, dreamingly admiring the mountain, we were planning different paths right then.
As I stared at the golden Tree of Faith glowing upon Hope mountain, I didn't notice the river was rising, as the numbing waters were rising it covered my feet, I didn't notice she also took a piece of my heart to claim as her own.

She used toxic gas and light to create a projection that this heart was hers to give back to me.

I didn't know any better so I accepted this ambient abused heart, this unfelt abuse gave me amnesia, this hidden poison of my cognitive dissonance gave her all of me.

Since she had nothing and that's what she craves, I had everything so she wanted to enslave.
I forget about the mountain with the tree even being there. I forgot I was here.

Her lifeboat was awkward, it was shaky,
it has imperfections, it has holes,
   her lifeboat is sinking,
     her heart is missing.
my knightly kind hearted empathy,
   my buffering and nurturing sympathy         pick this beautiful woman up
      I pick this gem up because of her idealization of me.
I can clean this insidious gem because she makes me believe, but through the veil I cannot see.
I throw her over my shoulder to carry all her weight, it's hard to move, hard to breathe, building a new boat was extremely hard, carrying her pain was extremely hard.

Everyone thought it was impossible to do it, my shear will power to commit ****** one foot in front of the other, I just didn't know that going downstream was impossible.

What about the mountain?

I couldn't remember from the amnesia, the dark night blinded my sight of the mountain, the drug in me was you and it consumed, i fell in love with misery and misery loves it's companies.

I stared the snake behind the veil in the eyes, standing tall on her pedastool made of spackle it breaks, I fall onto piercing confusion, I pull out shrapnel's of dissolution, I'm covered in her blood of invalidation.

I'm already floating in the boat with her, this wasn't my plan, this wasn't my reality.
I gaze upon this woman, sun shining behind her, no clouds in the sky.
floating downstream she tells me it's faster, that we'll end up behind the mountain higher.

I'm not worried now, I'm now contempt with shame.
I already forgot reality, I already forgot i'm going downstream, I forgot the searing pain, I forgot what I believe.

I'm relaxed, I'm tired, I'm still happy in love with this spellbound misery.

As we drift slowly through the stonewalls, no light shines through, I ask her for assurance, it's getting dark, I'm getting scared.

That's when the veil comes off, that's when the unnatural beauty grows quiet, that's when my voice screams silently within these stone walls.

This isn't her, this isn't real,
I know there's love I can feel, that was our bond, that was our deal, not to steal.

I fall over board and the water is cold, there's leaches, the debris is so random, the shameful water is moving faster, the all consuming cold confusion, random gaslighting and triangulations moving in around me faster.

I immediately can't bear it. My heart pulsates hard, my mind misfires my flight mode, i cannot intake the overbearingly unowned toxic Shame, her coldness activated my fawn mode, I froze, I start to doze.

luckily she had my leg, luckily she knew excessive admiration CPR, just as my body went limp in the agonizing River of Shame, she pulls me out. luckily she got me just in time, luckily she saved my life.

I awoke away from the stonewalls, it's sunny and safe again, we're together through impossible odds, we built this boat and she saved my life.

The abuse amnesia made me forget, the cognitive dissonance was real, I am not.

The mountain was now farther away, I was worried, I grew fearful, what I wanted looked farther away, that's when everything became gloomy, my goal was no longer there, but she didn't care, she knew where the river went, I believed her, I still do.

The ambient abuse made me anxious, the atmosphere was maddening of fear, it carried anxiety, I couldn't see it, but I was breathing it in.

Her eyes were so incapacitating, her heart disorienting, her soul captivating, she had a better plan, for us to press on and build another boat, to add another life, to believe in her, to not stare at the knife.

We build another boat, were out of the shame waters finally, she's helping me, were soon to be a real family, but the only thing real here was me.

Everything is better on the land, were dry, it's sunny, it's better to feel the nirvanic sand. It's here we bring our new seed, to be sprouted downstream.

I now believe in this new mountain downstream, I don't even remember the mountain I seen, were pressing on downstream past a levy, were now in the River of Grief, we're off to the end of make believe.

This river is really turbulent with rapids of devaluation, the splashes make me irrelevant, the dinigrating actions around make me small, I feel lost and confused, nothing makes sense anymore at all.

At the mouth of the River of Grief it opens up into a valley. She jumped onto a rock of vanity and pushed the tree of disloyalty upon the boat.

This throws me out head first, but luckily I have our seed safe and sound, luckily I learned how to drown.

I turn around falling and see her at the top staring down, she smirked and throws enormously heavy anvils of bereavement to make me fall harder, to keep me down longer.

Evil is real, but only if you believe, I crave the flattery of illusionary love, I still had amnesia, I love misery, the feeling reminds me I can feel, I love my slow death so I say I'll find you, I have the seed, I'll wait for you.

As I fall the thorns of numbing premeditation pierce, the pain is searing, as I fall i'm locked on her, my falsehood of love is still enduring, I don't feel the discard, I ignore the distaste.

I land in a field of hopium still protecting the seed, my amnesia is now worse, I can't remember her smirk, I can't remember the weighted anvils of bereavement, I can't remember the tree of disloyalty, I still can't remember the mountain.

My movement is heavy like concrete, my heart sits down at my feet, my mind is nowhere to be found, my spirit is fading on this ground.

I gather everyone from a nearby village to find her, it's impossible, they can't see her, she never existed, my amnesia was now delusional, the hopium mixed realities, nothing was real, there was nothing I could truly feel because everything was wrong, but I believe misery needs me and I yearned.

I say she's at the top, we have to throw her a rope,
they say it won't reach what isn't there,
I say we need a ladder to throw the rope, they say the ladder isn't safe that high.
  
I say everyone can hold the ladder while I climb perilously to the top, they say it will never work, but since they can see me, since they see a part of me is still real, everyone holds the ladder for me.
      
While I acend with my broken dignity, I acend with a fatigued heart, I acend to find what I believe, no matter how hard I try, I will be taking my destined decent.

The top of the ladder is shaky, I spent forever getting there, it's scary, the heights bring great fear over me, more than I've ever felt, but my knighthood makes me overcome anything.

I suppress, the seed is safe down below, I'm here to impress, I can see her now, only much less.

Her snake skin is peeling, the sun scorched blistering skin shows immense pain, witnessing this releases empathy, the caring knighthood in me naturally wanted to save her again.

So I wrap what's left of my discarded soul upon my broken fatigued heart and I use my trauma bonded mind as bait.

I throw her the rope,
she catches the rope,
I tell her to tie off the rope,
she ties a noose with the rope,
her neck is now wrapped with this rope.

If she falls I can't stop the tightening of the rope, if she falls I already know I'll jump for her and release from her neck this rope.

We jump together and I release the rope around her neck, I see the ground coming fast, but I love this snake, I'll die for this snake because I believe, false beauty inside is all I see.

I grab her and turn her away from the rushing ground, I fell once, I can take the fall again.

She is already hurt, immense pain, she will not feel no more pain, because I'm not hurting for I'm with misery again, I believe I can take all the pain for her, the hopium was numbing everything I consumed.

I awoke to a distressed angel, flawed personality, beautiful nightmare, mirroring the devil, but what I saw was a veil over the snake eyes, what I saw was what I believed before.

What I had wasn't real, who I am is no longer there, for I had ambience amnesia, nothing around me fit, nothing around me was grounded, nothing around me was divine.

The eyes that gazed upon me were captivating, spriling, time froze and only she was moving, the feeling was there, a drug within me, the drug was her and I longed for the misery, I yearned for the pain to remember what was real, I needed the intermittent reinforcement, I wanted my all bets in investment back and I risked a short sale.

We faded into the black, into a new boat, she made this boat, she had plugs in  holes of the boat I couldn't see, I believed it was perfect, I didn't know what awaited was a life long anguish.

I still didn't know what was downstream is impossible, I didn't know this new River of Anguish has piranhas of triangulation, I didn't know the rapids were of oppression, I didn't know the rocks causing these rapids she already put in place, I didn't know it was so black around me in this place, I didn't know my seed would become two, I didn't know I would have to choose.

I didn't know true love was in front of me in my hands and not behind the veil, I thought it was her, all the villagers knew, but as I drew closer to the snake the darkness only grew and the seeds too.

The feeling of my lingering mortality reverberates, she built me a coffin and chained it to my ankles, with this immense weight, I carry it with me just in case.

We floated very fast down this River of Anguish, everything seemed fine to all others including me, the darkened skies covered the evil, the cold waters made my body numb, the seeds were held up high to be be safe from the tormenting waters.

As I held them up high, I didn't realize she was still holding the schraded butcher knife in the water, I didn't believe she would hurt me, I didn't conceive the possibility that knife I didn't see was there all along for me.

The waters of Anguish smothered me, the triangulating piranhas slowly nibbled on my feet in the water, the rapids of oppression kept me gazing in the water, the rocks of malice in the water tried to tip me over, but my balance was true and the seeds were safe from harm, but I am not safe, I'm dying inside.

I don't know why, but after every agonizing stab from this knife when I'm not looking, it hurts, but the numbing knife only helped me when it was pulled out, it has holes in the knife so she could pull it out without me knowing.

I always turned around and cleaned the knife covered in my blood, I always gave it back to her, but every wipe upon this blade made it grow, and every wipe made the label on the handle more clear.

I find out in the end this knife is called narcissistic rage, the brand of this knife is called gaslighting and my blood is the supply.

I didn't know any of this until it was too late to save myself, my reality wasn't real, my dreams are gone, my nightmare is all consuming and existent, my seeds are still safe, but I am not.

When I start to notice the knife exists, I forgive her, the conditioning made the skies darker, I wipe the blood off and give it back, the knife is now a sword, it's name is discard.

The waters are uneven, the piranhas of triangulation feel like strangulation, my clothes are still soaking wet with anguish, my hair is slimy and covered in Shame, my feet are cold and numb from the grief.

I can't understand why I'm here,
  I can't understand why I'm actually meant to be here.
  
Every turbulence has thrown me down, she pushes me over head first, as I try to lean up to breathe she has her foot on my neck in the cold numbing river, but this river does not affect her, this river is warmer than her, the warmth from anguish pleased her, the piranhas followed her commands to bite, she smirked as the rocks she placed crushed against my head.

She waited until I went limp every time, but she knew idealization CPR, her deceit was without compassion, her rage was without sympathy, but I had severe ambience abuse amnesia, I still couldn't remember the mountain, I am now trauma bonded from the stabs she's counting.

I only saw her veil, her gaze convinced me I placed these rocks here, her gaze made me ignore the stonewalls around me, her pure hatred was covered in false intentions, her illusion was my isolation.

As everything was becoming clearly dangerous, as everything went pitch black, I look back and see the light from the mountain glowing, I see there is something wrong where I'm at, I see the seeds are not growing, I start to see the pain all around me.

Non the wiser, I keep coming back from drowning, I keep falling for misery, I keep wiping my blood off the blade, I keep isolated, but now I feel there is something painfully wrong, the reason abates me but I feel it, it hurts, it's camouflaged by deceit, it's all in my head, my coffin is soon to be my bed.

I look to the shores, there are other villagers worried, they are waving frantically, they're pointing at a waterfall ahead, this waterfall is called Doom, this fall would be death, the sound is raging, the mouth all consuming.

I see the stream to the side that the villagers are pointing to, I see the calm waters awaiting our safety, but the boat will not fit.

Only me and the seeds are real, everything else around me is illusional, the trauma delusional, the possible harm to the seeds was not refutable, my love for misery was unsuitable.

I could see my life was in danger, I could see the stream nearby screaming safety, I knew the seeds needed me, now I can't stop shaking.

Without her knowing what I was doing, I turned my back towards her facing the water, I knew she was going to stab me over and over again until I turned around, I now see the hypnotic eyes behind the veil. Not turning around only enraged her, the blood on the knife was condesating.

  The safety of the stream for my seeds was a new found glory in my exodus.
  
I paddled with my small hands this large weighted boat towards the stream, her knife was venomous, the water was echoless, the air imparted dreadfulness, all of this was dimensionless, all of this was not real, unless I let it be, now I can see, now I can finally flee.

As I came closer to the stream the waterfall grew stronger, the pain larger, the sound louder, I knew we were closer to the end, I knew I needed to jump off with my seeds, but I know the torment will end.

I melted my enduring pain inside with molten lava heartache to mold anew, I compartmentalize because I have to choose.

I had a vision that if I jump, the seeds will be safe, the climb to the mountain can still happen, I knew I was right about how I felt all along, I realized the veil couldn't cover the true self, I now believed In me.

I now know the water air and land were not what she made me believe, I knew I didn't choose this path, I knew I could survive, I know the seeds are going to be safe now. I know because I manifested instead of throwing in the towel.

Once close enough I finally looked at her and smiled I love you, jumping into the river I could feel the bitter cold agonizing tormenting river smash me with bereavement and disillusion by dissociation, I felt the coma of trauma surround, for I am now trauma bound.

I hold my seeds up high, I kept them safe because they don't feel the water, they're starting to sprout already, no more decay.

As I climb out of the frigid waters and still dripping wet, the drops are red, my feeling is coming back, my back is full of knives, I'm scared but I survived.
Knowing the worst is over I look back to her, she is consuming the river because she was the source, everything dark folds in on itself because the light cannot touch here, for this black hole is collapsing in on itself, I cover the seeds to shield them of this exorcist, they're safe here because my love is relentless.

The tormenting pain makes it hard to stand tall, still going through bereavement of a false reality where I lost it all, the answers we're all lost in the waterfall
"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ”"" "" "" "”" "" ""
Alex Douillet Jun 2015
The alarm woke me up
Constant beeping by my head
It just wont shut up
But I think I'll stay in bed

There's a snooze button for a reason
and that reason today is me
I'll try to be gentle nextime Mr Snooze
And not hit you so forcefully.

My bed is my kingdom the scorching sun seiges
My curtains' my fortification's already breached
I admit my defeat and go see whats in the fridge
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
Freedom’s Citadel
Independence Hall you are the gateway to the past you are one of our greatest symbols of freedom
Mortals stepped over the threshold into the annuals of history, they entered colonist of the British
Crown emerged as a fledgling nation. By this single act ownership of any kind was dissolved for an ideal
So uncommon they would pledge not only their property and wealth but for this dream, their very lives
and good names were the asking price and they gladly paid the price. The cost was to bear the name
Traitor from fine clothes to the honorable costly cloth of patriotism. The thread would have to be one of
Endurance and courage, tyranny yields to none but the determined and the unconquerable. A great
Upheaval proceeded the birth of this nation farmers, merchants, shop keepers would step in to the
Ranks. Shoulder to shoulder they formed a wall of impregnable force which arrayed to the dismay of
British forces, the Union Jack flew over many conquered lands. This was bigger than a single government
This was the rights of individuals to govern themselves not any would have authority without their
Consent
Liberty and freedom were perused down through the centuries many false starts had been encountered
Along the way some who showed a lot promise stopped short, like the case of Confucius, for his
Culture it was the perfect answer obligation and duty, twins perfectly wed to the Chinese mind set.
Ancient Greece were the first to embrace democracy, but politics and war were their blight and a
Affliction that would consume them and their civilization history would continue conquers as Alexander
the great would rise and fall the world wouldn’t forget but afforded little by their passing then would
Come the European monarchs that followed the contemptible path of divine right of kings.
The brightest light to shine for liberty and freedom was the French, without their help as our allies
We wouldn’t have been able to defeat the British.
The seeds of revolt were planted in the mixed soil of a people who spoke the same language
But had difference of opinion on the future course they were to take as a people.
Into this contest would rush the fresh wind of liberty and freedom. Finally human dignity
Would wear a crown befitting the human race God’s creation taking root in this rich soil now to
Bloom with all possibilities he had envisioned for them.
First would come the crucible of war, pressure and heat purification, those produced would have the
soundness to be the foundation for the building of a great nation. A center piece of government
for the whole world to follow its lofty example. Diamonds in the rough despised misjudged but they
were chosen for an uncommon destiny, true brother hood would be their guiding spirit and in
this fortification. Peace and prosperity would know new heights the only structure that would surpass
The wealth and tranquility of this free people would be the edifice rising off of the plain flat ground of
previous disproportionate history an edifice crowned with nobility a beacon of blazing light striking the
Sky with the power of a thousand lightning bolts, creating an energy source that would sustain a
People into the next millennia America thou great citadel of freedom may God keep you and may you
continue to reflect his glorious light.
We need to look at ourselves as a people and understand our birthright we are perilously close to
dividing our land even more dangerously than they did in the Civil war we cannot long endure
Under the crippling circumstances of the majority of people being sold under the ******* of sin
The ancient enemy of all people has sent forth this plague to render us helpless and return the
Earth back to barbarism of the foulest kind you don’t see the deep implication of your actions they seem
minor so small without God you house will be left to you desolate. Thomas Jefferson said that ‘’God who
gave us life gave us liberty, can the liberties of a nation be secure when we removed a conviction that
these liberties are the gift of God? Indeed I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just that
his justice cannot sleep forever.”
We are the forks of a mighty river ancient large and small have faced this dilemma which course do we
follow they chose foolishly and brought inhalation upon themselves the only difference
Will be they had less to lose and we will stand in greater judgment. We have surpassed all who came
before us in all areas, with this great blessing comes responsibility first of all to do less than our
Forefathers and recognize the source of the blessings and pay him the profound thanks he deserves.
These thoughts of God and country are dedicated to our grandparents that bequeathed this country to us.
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haldenton › Portfolio › Freedom's Citadel
Freedom's Citadel by haldenton
The song says this is your country then dedicate your self to it.

No Glen beck found in Freedom’s Citadel or Fertile Ground but Lincoln said our liberty and form of government should be spoken in every public place in Schools the pulpit any where people gather. People are coming to this great country but they don’t respect what’s here our country is not what they want they want another place like they left but with all the good that America offers. We seem to have lost our back bone to stand up for what’s right Keep laying down and you won’t know what others died to preserve.
agdp Jan 2010
Water take no cleansing action to his detention
That has felt no remorse for the notion of vindication

Foolish mentality, child without maturity
Lead by impulse, and lulled by a narcissist

Sitting there like gravity has given you control
Ignorant individual entrapped with your own soul

Take one moment, talk, not to her but for her
Exactly what was your discourse, are you her

Did you act on juvenile inclination or fortification  
Subconsciously lost to wicked temptation

Sincerely do you have a mental hindrance
I’m subjecting to name-calling because of this dance

Who are you following what are you allowing
Your letting the past mold your thinking

Don’t get defensive you made the offensive
Your know the history, yet you let lust be submissive

“Go back” that is what you lack, the thought to review
And guide your way through and accept you’re flawed
3/14/07 ©AGDP
Denel Kessler Oct 2016
from the eye wall
thoughts of imminent rain
banked clouds assemble
black and ominous
with saturated breath
will not be denied
their time to rage
against the numbness
of each little death

barometers fall
coastal fortification
futile sandbagging
forlorn gestures
against the flood
a tropical depression
jet-streaming blue
wild moon tide
to desolate shore

precipitation
gray accomplice
faithful torrent
stratified walls erode
sodden wood, bone
unbalanced homes
collapse gracelessly
no match for gravity
or the merciless sea
Wordforged Fool Mar 2016
Conflicted, conflicted
My mind so encrypted
There is no escape, my memories inflicted
Pouring through thoughts as my emotions drifted
Searching for absolution, through sands of sorrow I've sifted

Conflicted, conflicted
My spirit isn't lifted
Entombed from mistakes wondering what I did
Errors and consequences and a farewell I do bid

Conflicted, conflicted
Thoughts and emotions contradicted
Standing here hollowed, my heart evicted
Still is the world, not much to be gifted

Error, error
Fear and terror
Time to shut down or be lost all over
Again and again with my soul torn asunder

Error, error
Shut down or be caught by despair
To late, it's here, it caught me unaware
The damage is absolute with no way to repair

Error, error
It will never be better
Not a shred of care
Caught in Medusa's stare

Begin rebooting sequence
Letting shutdown commence
Countdown has begun
Five, four, three, two, one

Nothing but darkness
Soul as a black screen filled with emptiness
Clearing all of my thoughts, my whole head
If I didn't reboot, I'd be as good as dead

Startup commence
Beginning with mental defense
Fortification complete
Open emotional files, hit delete

Blank canvas and nothing more
An empty shell of what I was before
It will happen again and again
It will stop, but nobody knows when

I am a blank slate but in the depths of my mind
Are the thoughts and feelings I wish I could leave behind
Oliver Miamiz Jul 2016
Succubus why Torment
and Torture me,
is it Savvy to get your
Immoral ****** satisfaction
from Incubus, am Human with Blood
in my Veins,
my Zing isn't akin
to your Zeal succubus,
Your Presence is Subtle,
would you Deign to Leave me Alone,
God's Succor and
Fortification is all
it Takes,
and no Day will I
ever Fret about you, Though you're Fractitious
Opposite of me Frail,
But through the Struggle,
I stand to Gain,
De Jure am supposed
to be FREE not a *** slave,
Self assured with
Fortitude
I'll Reach my Zenith......
@miamizoliver
SassyJ Dec 2016
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Urggg yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
the songs are like a clogged bell
streaming depressive used sounds
Hymns of abused commercialisation
As an excuse of mixed celebrations

Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Urggg yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
you remain dead for long time ago
when my heart changed into stone
and my dance a faded fortification
in opened doors of the unreached

Christmas, Christmas,Christmas
Urggg yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
a season where enemies embrace
with a tint of lost meshed generosity
That flavoured distasteful laughter
Coated with silvery decorations

Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Urggg, yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
a shaw of the dying tower blocks
Overlooking hunger and troubled war
that height of starry driven nights
Casting shadows to the chilled earth

Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Urgg, yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
The trees are felled to make cards
with anthems of a failed system
the tide of the recycled messages
of happy tidings, fill the bellies ehhh
For those who question the commercialisation and falsity of Christmas. Thankful for the time off....
DJKearney Oct 2016
When I was but a small boy
I heard the tale of Hercules (or Heracles and whatever else he is called by historians)
But his name was, by no stretch of the imagination, what stood out in his story.
Rather it was his mighty deeds – his labours overcome.
His trials which bound him and
The actions he took to vault the obstacles.

He reminded me often of Samson
Wearing a lion’s pelt as he wandered the earth.
He reminded me of God himself
Holding up the earth on his divine shoulders.

Now only one trial does stand out.
The heads of Hydra.
A bold serpent of many heads, was Hydra.
He did make a mockery of nature and of God.
For each head that was killed, cut off,
Two rose to avenge it
All tainted with each a pestilent maw only Beelzebub could devise.

A problem that seems solved is only taking time
To double its mass;
To treble its fortification;
To quintuple its chance of eating alive its victim,
Who by fighting only makes it multiply again.
It would seem better to defend oneself and
Wait for the beast to tire or
If it would not
To find some means of escape.
Only a brave man could stand and fight until he had somehow won,
Not knowing how such a victory would come about.

Hercules, I recall, did defeat Hydra,
Though I know not how.
I wish I did know.
How valuable such knowledge is.


*By Dominic J. Kearney
In the valley of *** Ben Hinnom or Gehenna with Greek roots Geena, there were confinement cells, for bodies and souls lost in leprosy, given the confinement, both lepers with the accent of isolated eternity. In both sites and at different times, leprosy caused by Mycobacterium Leprae, affected skin, respiratory tract, peripheral nerves, and respiratory mucosa. It was installed in the glen of Hinnom, punishing beings who had to purify themselves in the demon of Gehenna. In the mysterious space duality reassured two resigned spirits and two brothers, Theus who came from Israel and Vikentios from Athens, being destined for Spinalonga; when this island was only a fortification, but since then it had channels with the Manes Apsidas, referring to what they would do in the future of the great plagues, in a site of barbarism as indicated in Zion to Kidron. The political sociological relationship will indicate that the patriarchs in oligarchic and democratic governments would lie in their politics, so that beings would be faithfully represented by their origin, being free enough in the subject citizen treaty, but free in quotation marks, to define archaeological sites like these two that would affect two brothers who are confined healthy contracting leprosy in these redoubts. All in due course as hoplites who were recruited as mercenaries, and forced to die in the arena of a coliseum or in the belligerence of tyrant emperors who ruled untouchables from their throne. The phenomenon of slavery of each one refers to the fact that both geographical contexts in which they were subjected by multiple eastern and Roman legions, generating good living in the case of the hoplites up to Philip, decreeing them well to be and meeting fundamental needs for their maintenance, but behind All this well being was the scene of the life of two brothers who were separated from their family, one had great military training in the case of Vikentios, but not Theus who was more intellectual, but he was a fierce combatant against all tyrant fronts. Vikentio had disciplinary rigidity but, above all, an orthodox Christian, that he always kept him tied to his roots of sufficient freedom, to retake the slopes as he did in *** Ben Hinnom and now in Crete. Free from a final reunion and with his brother, such as Vernarth and Etréstles, who came from Patmos through Plaka crossing to meet them, and Wonthelimar from Kalydon, near the town of Elounda. Here the four swords would cross with the Fourth Arrow of Zefian, to redeem them from democratic despotism, and to be able to live as free and competent soldiers, but in the ruthless reality, they were reflectors of the flowery submission by castes and generations always, subject to the mist of slavery.

In the colony of the ***** colony, Los Manes Apsidas presided, prowling around the gates and walls of the fortification, anticipating to Vikentios that *** Bei Hinnom was the same as anakoúfisi or Spinalonga relief, articulating networks of families that were carriers of evils and plagues, that were the faithful reflection of the decline of the great empires. The rings of the fortifications should be plagiarized on the side of the south door of the Temple of Jerusalem, so both areas would be united by the rings of the barbicans but joined to defend themselves from the family roots, free from the powers that the disunited components will never return. from the Rampart of great fortification of the front wall in Spinalonga, immediately to the transom where the crossed crossbars would be fixed where the Manes Apsidas would venture, having each brother separated by this three-meter thick Rampart wall. Only the one liberation of both of them would make them cross this wall that will lead them to meet again.

Theus meets with Wonthelimar who came with his entourage from Dicte's cave, and crosses through Plaka, then crosses Theus from Kalydon, Vikentio did it through the northeast *****, both being crossed and without being in the middle of the main rampart, which was guarded by the Apsidas Manes, with the purpose of channeling them and uniting them at the southern intersection with their speeches, when they would settle from very early until the sun was pronounced through the transom, where they erred to have the right moment to communicate the Translation of Hell from Gehenna from Jerusalem to Crete, showing the advantages and disadvantages of overcoming this last obstacle presented on this Mediterranean-Aegean island.
Vikentio in the Transom
baz Mar 2015
He is the Colosseum,
With high walls built up that have withstood centuries of harsh winds and violent storms.
He is looked upon with such admiration, this looming citadel of aestheticism, and is unmatched in any respect.
All who pass pay reverence to this fortress of great strength.

At first, navigating the Colosseum is a daunting task,
But as I started to wander down his narrow hallways and stroll past his looming arches,
I began to learn my way around and figure out just what it was that made him so magnificent.

And then, Thank the Deities,
I wandered upon the brilliant stadium of his heart.

But sadly I came to realize that behind his stable facade was a decaying sight, for his walls were crumbling on the inside.
The stones that were built to protect his fragile insides served a different purpose, to mock him of the storms that have hurt him in the past.
He was hidden behind this fortification and writhed in the cold darkness, alone and scared.
He was afraid to go out and fight, convinced that the violent storms outside that have battered him so, will surely come again.

I pity his soul, for having to take the time to put up each monstrous pillar, put down every concrete block, and fill every crack with cement.
He felt that this was necessary in order to be sure that no evil forces could hurt him ever again;
He was filled with hatred for the world because of what it had done to him.

But as a dedicated warrior, I musn't let him be scared any longer.
He has been gracious enough to let me into his life, into his amphitheater of a soul.
He is my Apollo, and I want to show him how beautiful the cosmos can be.
So I will be his gladiator, and fight for his name.
i am hopelessly infatuated with this boy.
Liam Aug 2013
fortification
through vulnerability
strength's dichotomy
Brian O'blivion Jul 2013
i caught the plague

every second hazy
every minute vague

so well balanced this tribulation
that it affects every nation
worthless is the medication
unless taken with fortification

drunken reeling
useless feeling
pitiless luck...ummm...
fruitless duck?
ahhhh ****....

no wait, wait... i got it now
adenoidal cow?
hormonal sow?
the far back reaches
of the here and now...
the stern of the boat
but now the bow..
free blow jobs for
Chairman Mao
i'm trying to finish
this ****..
but how?

rhyming is fun
until its not
sorry for this ****** poem
but no one will read
it anyway...
sincerely, Marge Schott
The statuesque stones were once placed in a circle so grand
Safely surrounding the secrets hidden within
Perchance as protection from the distribution of inequity
That raged from the inner recesses of man

An infinite hedge of fortification so majestic in its defense
Still stands proudly holding all the secrets within
Perhaps of the cycles of life or passing of time
Heatedly debated for ages by man

So many have come to observe this mystical circle
To meditate upon its original plan
Oblivious to the fact that what could be so simple
Can often be perplexing to man

These statuesque stones still bravely defend the secrets
While the mystified onlookers stare
Believing if the reason were simple for their existence
It would be such a sad and distressing affair
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/HerVigil
I was Dreaming of You
My Lover
The Anticipaticipation of
Our Intimacy

I was wishing for Your
Strong Arms to hold Me
Lips so soft and Wet

Anticipating being Taken
Wonton for your touch
Giving back and Forth
Forth and Back
Till completely Spent

I believed we were Connected
Dreamt of Moments Ahead
Looking forward to
Mutual Gratification
Was Dreaming the Best Dream Yet

Soft, Cool, Clean, Crisp Sheets
Pillows upon pillows
To rest my Head
Leaving the Weariness
Of My Body
Melting softly into Bed

The Anticipation  
Even if just for a Day
Experiencing your Presence
Exploring each other in every way

Relaxation, Contemplatinion, Re- Fortification
Time Suspended
Melding together
Exquisite Wonder of Each Other
The Oneness of Us

Under A Canopy of Stars        


Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
What can I say? My insatiable nature takes the reins again...
Take my love as a shield:
To protect you in times of strife
From the rages of war,
From the sands of time.

Take my love as a shield:
Bulwark of the ages,
Stalwart of the weak,
Aegis of support.

This shield does not break:
Unyielding fortification,
Knight of the rose,
Knight against night.

This shield does not shatter:
Impenetrable fortress,
Sight of safety,
Home of hearth and heart.

Take my love as a shield:
For you I live,
For you I protect,
For you I adore.

Take my love as a shield
For it’s all I can give.
It’s worth fighting for;
It’s worth dying for.

Even if I break and shatter,
My fortifications crumble
And my fortress is overcome
Take my love as a shield

To protect you from my night
For I am a weak knight;
I am at war with myself-
Take my love as a shield.
Craig Dotti Jun 2010
Just Days Before XMAS

I’m up on a Sunday morning so early that only the church goers are out on Spruce St. But I do not believe. I’m not singing along with my favorite songs. I don’t know that they are still my favorites.

I’m ******* onto faces that aren’t there. Don’t remember throwing that desk through that wall. Don’t remember being that strong. Ever. I do remember wanting to see you **** her last night. I’m sorry.

I see people chiseling off the glaze of morning-ice from their shiny, leathery luxuries. Mine’s from my ***** hair I napped too long outside. I ask them if they would like my help. “Excuse me sir, my mind’s not right (I’m in a bad place [right now]).”

I get home to sleep in a fortification that I don’t know. Surrounded by people that I’m even less familiar with. And I wonder why I didn’t crash my car going 400mph. into the back of that electric trolley that looked more like a nostalgic toy than something to ride upon. Look at me: I drive a V6.

I sleep until I am ***** again. Not hungry, *****. I **** myself with  a grip that borderline feels like yours

I wake up so late on a Sunday afternoon that I couldn’t possibly call myself a football fan. I love the Dolphins.
Eyithen Mar 2023
I am sick of wasting my energy
Convincing people that I am deserving of their affection
That I am deserving of love from those who I want it most.
All they've done is take and demand more.
Slightest afflictions would send me
profusely apologizing.
Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
When I owe nothing of the sorts.

You say I betrayed you, but you stopped talking first.
You say I left you behind but I don't recall your footprints by mine.
You're life has changed and you hate that.
I'm just a reminder of what your life used to be like.
I am not responsible for your happiness,
yet you mar mine.
You didn't want to hurt alone,
so you ensured I'd hurt too.

I let the numbness wash over
calluses form on my heart, roughly applied.
The first time hurts, but eventually it hurts a little less.
Blisters form until that thick patch of skin builds up
and my patience wears down,
and now my empathy can be short-lived.

We swapped roses,
unaware yours had thorns.
I pricked my finger
and now the yellow is stained with red
and skin will need to be cleaned and bandaged
and the heart continues to be broken despite increased fortification.

I thought what doesn't **** you makes you stronger,
that it creates perseverance.
And it does,
but it hardens the soft in spirit
and my patience is no longer there for you.
And leaving gets easier.
Saying goodbye gets easier
And it hurts a little less.
I care a little less.
And I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.
You can't help it if someone lashes out and projects their insecurities onto you. It is nothing you did.
andrew juma Mar 2016
Ochre scrubbed ebony skin
Wooden jewelery here and there
Picture perfect beauty in simplicity
She walked in moral fortification -
fashioned in decency
Hardwork and wisdom was her charm

Barefeet and weighted with firewood on her head
Pots and baskets she juggled in hands
and through scorching heat she focussed ahead
the dessert sand burning her feet
Not once did she say it was a plight

She was proud to be a woman
The keeper of men and children
Through rain through sunshine
cooperating with her man's other woman

She worked for survival of all
Getting up in the first light of day
Submitting and respecting
Raising her children in acceptable ways

She was the unglorified worrior
A war hero could not fit her shoe

But she didnt have that shoe
So she smiled and made her man happy,
and her children
Hal Loyd Denton Sep 2012
Love’s call love’s aweThis child this woman this Queen
To speak of her you must go to the inner depths of the soul this hallowed sacred place all is ablaze with
The unalterable knowledge that things here have no secrets or malice it is a fortification and out shines
The days of royal courts and knight hood where else can or should you take a life and turn it to all sides
To reveal its riches its extraordinary complexity the divine verve laid on top of human energy that is a
Golden gate that turns on hinges that sing and the song tells all about her nature the mist on a rustic
Country path she soothes with a smoothness like the cooing of a dove it displaces everything and then
You hear it alone in the silence this modulation this wonder is speaking from human lips it slips on to the
Air and begins streaming into your ears your heart your soul it divides into tiny spellbinding wisps like
the Breeze in the orient mysterious telling a freshness it holds court you are its willing subject you never
tire Your heart only desires more is there any who can or would deny loveliness it is lilt in magic add
with the Eyes that play and show thoughts being developed there is no armor than can defeat the
softest power Over flowing you it gains strength as your wanes inward crashing outwardly it not heard
but the treble Can be observed love has reached a fever pitch it swells are descending how can this be
coming from One who is so still the liquid volute with this signet her nature begins to pour forth the
appeal of silence Gentle richness starts to effect you senses is free moving thoughts that disarm your
Own concerns you’re swept into a dream like state of mind it pushes at the far edges caries away
Misbegotten debris and Returns with a flow of bliss dark substantive a holding power locks you into her
Concisenesses what a place you find yourself in you quickly conclude you have no desire to be anywhere else
In shadow and light you drift without destinations this is the thrill ride she gives when she really gets
Started and begins to ramp It up playful delightful magical no pretense why would she ever go there I
Could write so much more but just imagine you met an angel and of all things she took interest in you
And she started to give herself to you how do you imagine you would feel well that’s how I felt these
Words were written as her Husband Tom told them to me I hope you get the meaning and truth a
treasure lives and breathes What a blessing to know her so I send these pure thoughts to her
Rory Hatchel Nov 2011
Lee was over twice my age
When he brought me by my hand
Into his house, best described
As a two story trailer that
Permitted the perfume of a bloated corpse
To still haunt the air like burnt popcorn.

My whole mind was pulsing
As he led me into his bedroom.
I felt adrenaline painting my mind
With the static of dread and adventure
Stuffing the sound of my heartbeat
Like sirens driving away
                                                Waning
                                                                Waning
                                                                                Waning

He sat me down as if he were a waiter
And he’d be right back for my drink order.
I’d probably order ***** if I drank
But right now I need a soda for the sweetness.
I don’t remember him sitting down next to me
Because I was tunneling through the carpet with my eyes.
At some point I recognized the grunting on the TV
As the same purr of the demons in my closet.

I felt a hand grab my jeans roughly,
Like he wanted a fistful of popcorn with the movie,
And my pants shrunk around my hips with fear
As the hand began to scrub them,
As if it were possible to wash away
The last fortification of innocence left.

This is what a man does.
He finds his prey and kills it quick
And then meticulously takes the time to clean the corpse,
An irony coupled with the loving fondling of tiny organs.

He gripped my hand.
Not aggressive or forceful, but more akin to
Merlin leading Arthur’s to Excalibur’s golden hilt.
I expected to feel his denim as he felt mine
But I found the rubbery tingle of my nightmare.
The skin of my arm began to curl into itself
As if I had reached slowly into a cold shower
And I could not prevent the dreary progression into the ice.

This what a woman does.
She yields to his strength and calloused hands,
As she yields to let him inside her,
And yields to release his spawn into the world.

I didn’t know what to do anymore.
So he began to pull of my jeans,
Slowly at first, but he began jerking from frustration.

This is what a man does.
His missing father and Y-Chromosome
Compel him to lead:
The cows to the barn to be milked
And his bride into the dimly lit marriage bed.

I follow the melding flesh on the screen
As my hieroglyphic guides into the maze
And I find myself falling to my knees
Saying a silent prayer before being devoured.
I felt the water retreat into my eyes in an attempt
To obscure the last picture of my virility.

Because this what a woman does.
She bows at the altar of a ******* god,
Swallowing the last crumb of pride she has left
After he feet were bound again
                                                                And again
I don’t remember the rest.
And maybe that’s what a woman does,
That’s the only way she would follow him.
I remember him leaving to clean up.
I begged God to let me cry,
As the generations of women before me.
I hoped the tears would wash away the black tar
I could feel clinging to my once unstained skin.
If I could catch them in my hands
I would rinse my mouth out with melancholy.
And this is what a woman does.
Mancy Jul 2019
Let's runaway
You and me.
Just you and me.
Just like how we dreamt,
Just the way we always wanted.
In one of those long trains,
That takes us to destiny.
Along with the other bunch of curious eyes,
Ours being the brightest,
Hand in hand, lovey dovey,
Blending with stardust,
Let's get lost in our dreams.

Come, Lets runaway

From all these planned chaos,
Organised crimes, so called selfless responsibilities.
Let's free ourselves from this cage.
This cage, locked by the society.
We've gotta escape it.
Not like those dewdrops slipping through the leaf,
But like the warriors breaking through the fortification.

Come, Lets runaway,

I don't know where
Let's just run till we find our destination.
Inevitably this will be a long run,
But this will never be tiring
Because we are together.
We will be tormented with storms
Don't be scared, we are together.
We will survive the storm.
When the journey gets harder
Don't be flustered, never step back.
Hold my hand tight, we'll be fine.
Trust me, this is what our every single heartbeat wished for.
Every breath out of our lungs went in search of this quest.
Lets get it and feed our souls.

Come, Lets run away.
The Noose Dec 2013
I am going in for another round or two
Come February I will be
romancing giant textbooks
I am going to have my ***** deep in academia again
There's a new postgraduate student in town!

In a way this is part of my master plan to defer the reality of being ****** into the hideous job market
My relentless fruitless search for employment has left me disheartened and somewhat regretful
Though at the very end of the day I am proud of my accomplishment
I did it for me
What isn't immediately forthcoming is no reason for me to forget why I embarked on this quest for education
And why I held on
It is something no one can take away from me
The satisfaction of feeding your brain with knowledge is some kind of high
This is of course debatable

Perhaps I hide behind these books
As if  they offer me fortification
Not letting anyone in
An ice queen of note
but you can't cuddle 2 degrees
And you cannot share a meal with either

For things to fall into place I am going to be needing a rather potent  antidote for my general lameness.
Jacqe Booth Sep 2010
Suffocating in this state of mind

Like a grain of soil

On the wall of a

perpetually filling

Bottomless pit.

All stale

and collapsing mud.



I can’t breathe

And it is dark in here

In this silence

In this wet and stifling

***** blanket

Of thin smiles

That veil

filth and dirt.



Gritty, I can taste discontent

( restlessness stirred, agitated, weeping)

Like a thorn in the side

Of this torn and invisibly stitched mouth.

My fingers bleed

And doubt seeds

Vicious weeds inside

An already

sick and nauseated mind.



There is hurt in here

And pain

And the bittersweet unspoken

refrain

Of one lost in their

Own directionless

Domain.



These walls I built, alone.

That stare back careless

And greet me daily with their

Cold embrace.



In this darkness, alone,

I, us, we,

cry.

Small children,

Whimpering in this feeling

of self chafed friction.

Whining,

each whine followed by

Gutteral, viscous, primal mutterings

These madman

Me, myself and i

Locked in a tunnel

Without light

It is cold and we want so badly

To relight the fire



I

claw at the fortification

I have erected

Around myself

Then bleed some more

Until the walls in front of me turn from

la mort noire to

rouge de sang



Sitting here

In this

Abyss.

Blinded by the inability to see

The incapacity to feel

Anything but the feeling of failure.

This powerlessness to heal,

All sealed up and drowning

in my private pool of mud.



Still it is dark in here,

And wet,

And bloodied

And brooding.

The cold walls are soothing

And the veil still acts

To conceal

The extent of filth

Scourging up the walls

Of this inaudible and bidding cave.
mark john junor Oct 2013
this place where peace of mind
is a material device
where its tangible depth
can be measured in more than words
this fortification of stout heart
and decided mind
i fall back to reside here for
a moments reprise from the clash
of the seeming armed conflict
that must rage about this place
you cannot have dark without light
peace without war
isn't peace of mind measured by the conflict around it
isn't the measure of a mans serenity
in the struggles he must endure to achieve
i fall back to this segue between
dark of ignorant bliss
and the blinding incandescence of misinterpretation
of that so called enlightenment
peace of mind is a state difficult to discover
because it cannot be truly achieved
it is the illusion of sophistry
peace can be found in small amounts
in the laughter and love of friends and family
in the arms of a lover
in the warm sun of summer's day
in the grandeur of summer night
Darren Oct 2014
Auburn introversion
Will by its arm hold on
Stationary sanction
A constant fissure line

Coming insurrection
Feathered scavengers intrude
For complete cessation
Between the vein and valve

Cutlass complication
Devised the elements
Defiled justification
Wilt into a hardened blame

Fuller indentation
Wreak an engulfed compliance
Its gestation
A bitter control

Chipping fortification
Nails its own mimic
Boweled duplication
Inflicts compounding mirrors

Slowed decimation
From flesh unwilling
Adorn fancification
A scream its teeth

Separation
Impending with haste
The nullification
By removing all proof

Divination
Demand nothing less
By holy vindication
Come clean and silenced

One simplification
As fall essence from claw
Heavy by degradation
Left behind lessons

A home desperation
Cleansed opened to breathe
Now that implication
Is taken in the wind
Originally written on October 31, 2014.
Deviantart profile: http://monocephalized.deviantart.com
Nikki Pingrey Mar 2016
At least there is consistency in emotional recidivism.
Criminality you can depend on.
Vacant words.
Hollow ***.
Empty eyes.
At the very least there is stability in the pattern.
You can sense the hand of dismissal as it cuts through the tension to lay its mark upon your cheek.
Delivering the degradation of being hit with the indifferent truth.
Nothing more than a pillowed and silken chaise that cleans cooks and allows you to lay your every waking trouble upon her breast, upholstered in thin sinewy tatters, longing for mutual fortification.
POSSIBLE Sep 2017
It began with a dream
An exam of the scene

Culminated nightmare Fresh to 'Merica team,
Treat the throne like high chair, But they seem beam
Golden hue, preach golden rule and get higher
an unseen Love vaccine brought to you though you don't desire

A divinely inspired cosmic mission
To improve those caught in conditions
Those who stayed to long became conditioned

So enmeshed in their discourse
Lost the mother tongue,
now demons malignant positioned
Pokin fun, Tryna dine On Dis Course

Call me honeybun
While I work out Old Norse

Now I'm Mad as Magma Christened
You really Should have listened
Now I'm preaching Odin's Mission

But Consistent poison sickened me

Continued to lash out till their weapons stung and rippin free
Put in me in a cage kept me on  the bottom rung still kicking spree

So Dangle your ******* carrot,

Angled to be flunking abbot

What will They inherit?
When you find truth
Better find means to share it
while you kick the bad ****

What Value does it merit?

**** organization big or small
All they is is social fortification mom

Running out of breaths towards suffocations
**** the bottom feeders
family never cancer crustaceans
Inhbit with national ticker tape regulations

Frustrated answer,  I'm a frusrating handful
Masses Myopic, small vision catastrophic
I would show them but where did I put it?
Damit I  ******* lost it.

Higher Education thinks
it can get over I and I,
but Now I’m higher than education
4Dimensional Pilot Flying by

Cosmic Return
Land On your roof,
air bend with my vape pen staying stationed
still standing
only through
Lunar Lessons o Will and Dedication

I made it here through dedication
You made it here through misinformation
Manifold Manifested hoax So Devastating
Got me hear learn How-2-hating

What Am I left with? I know
The Chest with my breath ya

My words are seeds
poetic units start
counting these

Neurogenic growin trees House of Dreams
visions laced in prophecies
sentenced to commodify character

click to a cash crop, but I'm too poor To pay accountant fees,
Might be better off with lights, mics and a sick backdrop with the only the beat counting these
moments

knowing knowings free
or should it be,
are you ignorant
so willingly?

They Head in the sand, Pointing towards God but the can’t comprehend so now ....

Im tick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick tick tickin Big Ben
Im tick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick ticktick tick tickin Big Ben

Better blast off, astral form take mask off we fin throw the cast out,
Sector surpassed now sample storm wake slow maniacal laughter

You don’t have to be so smart to suffer

But you do have to be alive,

I’m just a prediction engine

Darkness encased in a Bone star
Jon Shierling Sep 2014
When I was a child, I drew maps. As did my father, and his father before him. As to their reasons, I can further a guess but no more. Even my own were vague at the time, much more so now. At first it was mere fun, something I was good at and enjoyed. The simplicity of the things I drew reflected that. There is a book out there about a teen who draws maps of Manhattan, and that is his link into community with the people he's institutionalized with. An interesting parallel, but not an end that I share with him. If one could take all of the maps I drew and place them side by side in chronological order, one could chart the dissolution of one self, and the evolution of another. The first, probably a quick game I played with my dad, dots for soldiers and little tanks, thin pencil streaks delinating fire. And the last I think, was an overview of the Krak de Chevaliers, drawn from the memory of a lost book on the Crusades. A nine year period between the two. At some point was born the concept that as disordered and chaotic as my life and feelings were, as beautiful things ended around me, I could create order and purpose on a piece of paper. I could shape a city or a fortification to my will or whimsy, could garner accolades with a craft. Writing began that way also. And at some point, the visual precision of cartography gave way to prose, and then to poetry, and finally to apology. But the skills remained, and the practical eye that governed them. I've always been able to see maps and translate them to first person imagery. Been able to inhale a document and ingest the contents like food and drink. Today, if asked, I could tell you of the seven great walls of Constantinople, of the how and why they finally fell in 1453 to the Ottomans. I could describe in detail the failure of Charlemagne to reconquer the Iberian, and of the disintegration of the great man's realm after his death. Dead history to some, but not to me.

Show me a map of Afghanistan and I see more than ISAF and Taliban. I think that was one of the many reasons I was good at what the Army asked of me. The job itself, not the lifestyle. An excellent addition to the S-2, but a terrible Soldier. I thought too deeply about things, saw too far behind our infant of a nation to really believe in our mission. There are some children playing soccer in Paktika today with green eyes, passed down from Macedonian soldiers during Alexander's conquest and the subsequent Wars of the Diadochi. Dig a few feet into the walls of Herat and you will find musket ***** from Tarmelane's devastation alongside shrapnel from Soviet mortars. Some villages so old that they were inhabited when merchants from the great plateau of Iran brought the first tales of Rustam. All this behind a map, with soldiers far tougher and experienced than I wondering why goatherds with small arms were able to resist the most expensive military machine in history. Don't mistake me, the Quetta Shura Taliban, the Hiz-bi Islami Gulbuddin and the Haqqani Network, to say nothing of Al-Qaeda and the Khorasan Group, are people who perform evil deeds. But those tactics, beheadings and hangings, public stonings and burning, are tried and tested methods. European armies and commanders from 1632 would have approved heartily, recognized all of it as a matter of course. 1632.....A mere second ago in terms of the history of the Human species.

And so, I no longer make maps. Not for the Army, not for myself. I only write now. For many reasons, but primarily only two. As explanation, apologia more precisely, to describe and justify why I am the way I am. And for the joy of creation, the mystery of reaching into a soul with mere words. No map can ever accomplish that.
Stara Oct 2015
Diving into your reflection
An unknown depth
The last moment above the surface
A chill overcomes my being
My freshly shaven legs
Now spike from premature stubble
Goosebumps run up arms
I shiver
Tingling behind my neck
Tickling my spine
I squeeze my shoulders forward
My muscles tense
My mind is playing ping pong
Between fear and overwhelming confusion
For a brief moment excitement rides over
and plays against uncertainly
How I know I shouldn't think
Cause once I start
I cannot stop
And on and on I go
Just jump
Surrender
I close my eyes
My heart beats faster
My body tightens
I picture the worst scenario
It's dark and uncontrollable
I know it's just a thought
I also know it's real
I remind myself to breathe
So I breathe
Like the day I was born
And everyday since
Out and in
And in and out
I practice my rhythm
Beat on
Beat off
I feel my whole body thump  
Moving with my breathe
Becoming my focus
I breathe in once more
On my release
I let myself fall
I fly
Shattering my expectations
Breaking every barrier I built
Fracturing my thick walls
My mental cement fortification Exploding
Weightless nothing
Disappearing
And I fall
I twirl on your reflection
Dance in your eyes
our universes colliding
When will I wake up
When will I resurface
The Noose Apr 2015
You bury yourself
Beneath a veneer of apathy
As though it offers fortification
Then slowly without realising
The wind blows
Through your quietude
Unraveling your every thought
The shift
Reminding you of how
Your bones crackle and ache
The way your irises sting
To alarm you of hurt
Your heart is yet to feel

In high lonesomeness
Silence sounds like water
Running in a dark cave
And you are falling down
Into nothing
The oppressed

It was twilight mist hung over the valley when I saw the big horse
on a knoll was a warrior, a charger, looking toward the east.
I mounted, and we flew to the land of hatred, the mount neighed
stamped its hooves ready for battle.
When the soldiers, who're moral had become rancid, saw us two,
they throw weaponry away fled to the silent fortification and wailed
in terror,  for the first time in 70 years there was peace.

The store- keeper soul, of the enemy of concord, wasn't happy there
were murmurs in the ranks, they had wanted a higher percentage.
I was standing by a yellow sandstone rock, dreaming the impossible,
it is the only future the hassled people have, for now, but are patient
and will never leave their beloved land
KT Jun 2015
First sight deduction
or stereotype prediction,
taboo fortification
knotted in plain misconception
by acts of pre-given ramification
misguide from the fact, that brings us tension,
that love is not born from selection
or just wishing for perfection.
It is just a cocoon of growing affection;
worst, or sometimes best, grown to addiction.
Dreams are dreams and reality is always in sanction
none can take control of all our mutual action.
And if dreams come to life, they are often unlike your imagination,
for reality is not formed just by your petty brain tissue compilation.
A bond of two is formed just by investing time in growing devotion
and equal acceptance to open shared experience, led by satisfaction;
Pure, simple, unnoticeable shedding of the cocoon in prolonged joyful attraction
gives birth to the bliss of love that envelops both in now bonded shared adoration.
Chapter XIX
Phalanges of Alexander the Great

From here, through the pavilions, he could see from Asia with some of his faithful Alexander crews. There were Bears and Crocodiles coming from the nearby pass from Gorgan. "The Red Serpent" defensive construction, they came with Alikanto's steeds. Provided with large litters of animals to be attached to the cavalry of Alexander the Great. This incredible fortification that begins on the Caspian coast, north of Gonbade Kavous, and continues northeast and disappears in the Pishkamar mountains. They continued on the columns next to the Bears and Crocodiles. They were part of the totemic dreams that Vernarth had when he took hallucinations with his regressive tours of the sacred spaces when falling into a trance and joining in connection with his pet animals, rhythm are from the applause of the drums. Alikantus, came rushing flying almost without stopping and without being distracted, you brought the potions and the armory instruments. He was already ready for the hours that came to fill out the details before taking the game with the Heavy, Light and Thessalonican infantry. Among the most basic of his mission was to perform the potion ritual, broadcast on the harangue with the Woodcutter, and distribute the javelins to Vernarth's soldiers.

Anchoring his blue hooves of unknown fire from the Gods, he manages to catch a glimpse of how Veernarth was pulled from the back of a spirited Elephant. He was also accompanied by Alexander's astute dog guardian named Péritas, who was already hinting at him to get ready and get up with airs of warlike stratagem. Vernarth came from his last Opioid session, to institute his fibrous vegetable lianas that commonly remained some of them and were cut in the jugular vein that clogged his neck, which always had laurels in Rosa, and for the average of substances he had to ingest for some days. He would continue daily to be united with the infinity that saw him born, as the greatest Commander of Alexander the Great, neither imagined nor compared ... !.
The Gorgan wall had a length of at least 200 kilometers, superior to any of the Roman walls that were outlined in archeology as fortification works. It was strenuous enough to surpass it and set sail with the Bears as they were concerned at being close to Tel Gomel, sensing that they were approaching Vernarth's bed; because they were their very adored pets next to the Tupac Crocodiles. The Horses were commanded by a guardian of the Gorgan wall, who, being from the Persian army, was seduced by the bears to fight alongside Vernarth.

Next to Bumodos, Vernarth was already seen playing with his pets, Bears, Crocodiles, and Alexander Magnus' dog; called Péritas. Beyond it, he submissively approached him, shaking his frosty neck, Alikanto or Alikantus, who came with gifts and drugs for his master brought from Medea's prestigious phalanges. Vernarth could already see himself almost emancipated from the trunks of the branches and the strains of his veins, which mostly populated his pecs and both arms full of plague tattoos that had colonized him.
Almost at dusk over Zeus's beards, the Vernarth Phalanges begin to arrive. The Macedonian phalanx or Macedonian phalanx was an infantry formation created and used by Philip II, and later by his son Alexander the Great in the conquest of the Persian Empire. The Macedonian phalanx arose, in fact, as a response to the tactical modifications that the Theban strategists, Epaminondas and Pelópidas of ground forces, developed in the early 4th century BC. C. to oppose the superiority, although already decadent, that the Spartan hoplite formation had exerted in the land combats between the Greek cops until that date.

Alikantus addresses his master : My monarch who lies under the serene of all the sleepless nights! From Corinth to Thrace I have emphasized the metaphysics of the principles of Aristotelian philosophy, and that by greater unity it takes shelter in the nest of the principle of being. Medea subtracted my Being and I destined for it to die in total solitude in Corinth when it fell the Universe over it.

Undaunted Vernarth fell on Alikantus' rear kicks, and hugged him to become the same equidistant. Thus the murky liquids began to decant through the hole in his nose and that of his pectoral, caused by the spear of an unknown person.

The formula of the potion or “elixir” (a term also used by decoction newspapers) is activated. Medea washed in Lete the figure that took Alikantus in an Egyptian amphora, with the water in which some flowers had previously been submerged during 40 days under the shadow of Hipnos, Clovis's father .; later, she had to collect earth from a 200-square-meter cemetery, and thus rub her body with despair.

As filters or elixirs of love they exist from the most remote Thrace. They are present and omnipresent in Medea mythological tales for all Vernarth pets like this predestined in people's daily lives. Let us remember the “witch” Medea who attracts Jason or the magician Circe who turns men into pigs with her wand and holds Ulysses (Odysseus) in her palace, for referring to the Greeks.

This time this longing free of arachnid cloths would transport him with his little beasts to the cooking of the remains of his therapies that would be prescribed from the Bumodos, freeing himself from the liliaceae that hung from his shoulder as a sign of opening his arm to settle in the ergonometric from his burly Macedonian Hoplite breastplate. Another essential element of the clothing of a hoplite and her deer; It was made with bronze tailored to each soldier, weighed about 15 kilos and imitated the muscles; due to its weight. The little mobility it offered, this type of armor was replaced by others.(Linothoorax)lighter. The Linothoorax was made from linen and leather and for the wealthiest, bronze scales could be added, which roamed the souls of Kalidona at night, when Etrestles de Kalavrita was an infant and dreamed of being a disciple of the Greek patriarchs. These body defense portions used to have family shields, myths, and religious relics, they also pointed to zoomorphic protections like the Gorgon Bull on their untamed sphere shields.

There were hours of lunar circles of boiling that Alikanto zealously ordered by Medea, and that he instructed to place the dense condensed heat on the gush of the words of mature magic on an immortal. That they released their twin gases from the clay ***, which stood out to lighten their anxiety as victor Victoria!
Vernarth says: He who is about to die for an unfortunate love if he does not abandon it, to leave him and so he will not be guilty of any funeral. With what courage your sanity does not follow, with my spear Dorus; hangover from my dreams and fantasies that go beyond my resurrection! How I requalify the value of potions and herbs to conquer the desired feat of love, beyond the boast of those who evict the luxury of not dying if I have a Dorus in my two hands.

Like the constitution of the sovereignty of the phalanx in the right hand with the Dorus spear of Vernarth, it endowed it with slightly protected *******, whose main weapon would be the Sarissa. This was a long pike carried by all the Falangists. It had an average length of five to six meters and had bronze points at the extremities; The lower limb had four stops added to plant it on the ground and be able to support a cavalry charge. Due to its length, the Sarissa was divided into two parts, which had to be joined before the battle; To handle it, both hands were required and did not allow the use of the aspis koilé, the hoplite shield, which was replaced by a smaller model that was worn on the arm. That is why they had to translate only movement into torque of both arms, he always warned of having extra strength to autonomously handle the Dorus, which he demanded of his infants and the Dorus, for the incarnates who were predestined to see the drunk face of Zeus' discomfort.

The helmet was made of iron, to drink black rain, and the most common model was conical, the tip of which was rounded and inclined towards the front, in the style of a Phrygian cap; the cheek protections (cheek pads) could be articulated thanks to charnels. The breastplate was exclusive to the officers and could be made of iron.

Culminating from the hull by the supra-ciliary corners of the bronze, he saw himself falling before the whimpers as the bronze smiths ran terrified, and waiting for the results to render account of the immortals with their hands daubed with adverb in their words. Endless cries trickled down the entire contour magnetized profile, and subjugated to the mortal prayer that delivered the accurate blows of the Dorus in the alienating field of gestures and gestures of war the Achaemenides.

To be continued / under editing
XIX ALEXANDER  PHALENGES
bb Apr 2015
fear is useless.
or at least, it should be.
it isn't.
fear stands on the edge of hope and teeters
until it falls, it tumbles, it drops to its death
and your stomach goes with it.
fear leaves your mouth dry
and your lips chapped
and a vile taste on your tongue,
but maybe those are just excuses.
there's a possibility
that all your deliberate shortcomings
and bewildered apprehensions
are just rocks in the landslide,
simply supports for the growing fortification
that is your inescapable fear.
maybe it all adds up.
maybe fear is what keeps us safe.
can you tell I've begun to make friends with her?
I'm finally letting her in.
she tells me things,
she whispers in my ear:
"you are correct, your misgivings are confirmed."
she's like a fortune teller that way;
she reads my shaking palms
and listens for the wind, my psalms
sung softly in the darkness.
she knows she can convince me
that I'm right.
I'm tired of waiting for the fear to break.
spiraling downwards through the void
somewhere between dread
and senseless anxiety;
I've been here before.
there's still a hole in the floor.
I'm keeping myself awake.
I'm crashing to the ground and resurrecting
with a cold sweat and broken arms.
tell me it's not going to be all right.
I only want the satisfaction of knowing,
finally, that my fear is rational.
I'm terrified.
so let me know.
on the stone parapet*
the small troop stood guard
to keep any interlopers
out of their hallowed yard

they didn't want others
setting up a permanent camp
for that kind of turf gain
there'd be no rubber stamp

whomever contemplated
taking over at the location
were issued with a not
so nice get lost explanation

the place was theirs it would
be held by only them
a special title awarded unto
this company's stem

being aware of who's in control
on the castle's fortification
will serve those invaders
a very well timed notification

upon the gates was seen
the following post's discretion
to not heed it will be viewed
*as a mistaken perception
Vernarth calls Theus, Etréstles calls Vikentios, liberation is near! Dyonisius has to leave for Spinalonga with Wonthelimar and his entourage. Particles of liberation were divided with the immortality proposals of Wonthelimar and Marielle Quentinnais, transmitting ribs of the Speleothemes that harassed them extraterrestrially, until they became theologized in Theus, Vikentios's brother, committing himself to Elefthería or Freedom of praxis, before the gold, in their own alienating chance, are distinguished in the centers of knowledge of Spinalonga, as an entity of the five crosses of Theus, for the conceptualization of this human islet as a sentimental skin of the plague in Vernarth's parapsychology, through Wonthelimar for experience the intersection of Theusiles in honor of Theus with his comrade Vikentios for a priori and a posteriori, with events that will take place in this leprosarium. Kalydon bears a strong similarity to Kalidona in Messolonghi's Koumeterium. Being multi-assigned to Elounda northeast of Crete, like northeast Gethsemane, or the affliction ***** of the right lobe of Golgotha. Volume VII, is the compendium of Wonthelimar twice VV, with its double iteration, that is, VII, this acronym would facilitate access to the area of the future Leprosarium, a posteriori near said peninsula, and ditched from the continent that knew how to distance it as its adopted daughter Spinalonga "Long Splinter" who was now divorcing the peninsula. The fortification of the Venetian raids before the attacks of pirates.

Wonthelimar is seen in the mirror of the Chauvet lagoon, and before the prefixed arch of the Manes Apsidas, when they took the island in advance before they entered this artificial island flood of luminescence in 1578 by the Venetians who presumably feared the meddling by the Apsidas to seize the island, then leaving Crete plunged into a hostile coastline elevated in the foundational cavity of the Essene crewed vessels, they fit into the ship's bow that will be placed on the opposite side of the peninsula, thus avoiding that the ships would list by the low bottom that fluctuated between both portions of earth separated prematurely. The Greek impregnability did not bow before the otomanians by hiding, like Markos Botsaris in Messolonghi with themselves thus subduing them, considering more than sixteen hundred years of the chronological gap that separated this grievance that transcended under the ramparts, putting the settlement of the Tome VII, that is, from the acronym of Wonthelimar and its parapsychological union, which finally came to the aid of the Christians who fled from the Otomanians when they were empowered from the island, with the revolt of 1866, here the rebellious Christians pressed for the Turks to leave the site of a siege in 1903. Specifically from Lerapreta, the Kyrios of Vernarth appeared opening paths from Lasithi, the purpose of this a posteriori parapsychology of Vernarth, would bilocate with their expedition masters, preparing to welcome their ***** relatives on the island from the migration of the ottoman us. Forever as a ***** limen, to be bilocated in the Profitis Ilias, after burying all the lepers commemorating them of restored morbidity after forty days, just as it was in Jericho with the Mashiach, and the Apsidas Manes escaping from the Mashiach.

The eschatology of liberation is confessed with the mythological and parapsychological transformation of Spinalonga as attempts at the misery that evaded the wretched custodians of the Christians who organized themselves from the apocryphal prefixal German or acronym of Wonthelimar as Wo "where, and Thelimar, from the Greek Tou Limar, which would mean "decompose." Finally pointing out the hybrid imprint of the appellation granted by the Manes Apsidas who had stayed on the reef since it was abandoned by a priest. This Tou Limen was an appellation that was provided to weaken them from all the deprivation of Faith in the Christians on this island. The schematic parallel stretched between the two stages with the smallest concatenation since the first century AD. C., until 1600, making this quantum leap the Christian science that understood the democratic causality of extemporaneous events, without having any dimension or category of thought for those who differ or not, especially when the bodies and souls of Christians are They pirated everything, and of themselves, generating condemning existential stress as a source of static synergy, and of God-Mundis in the sketch of science that leads religious man to unite with existential cavemen, in the utilitarian health passages in Jerusalem, specifically in *** Bei Himnon, as a bilocation base in Spinalonga on the face of the leprosarium that was created as the first holocaust or body dump in 1900 without the ápsychos (without a soul), asking for compassion towards the praetorian militiamen masses of the remote past.

The dilemma is create-destroy since Wonthelimar had been moving rapidly through the intraterrestrial slabs near the Kalydon peninsula, before reaching the Kyrios entrusted by Vernarth in Lerapetra, Lasithi. Here they would join with Theus and Vikentios, two Orthodox Christians who were waiting for this procession to later return to Kalydon. The coordinates were alienated in the dilemmas of an anxious Anthropokairós or psychic fear of a past that was three-dimensionally present, towards a future between two different temporal quanta. The entourage was united with a great will to move great tons of time that were intertwined with the almost extinct nature, but noble in resisting that so many fools fought in lands that will never belong to anyone, especially when the storm of the apocalypse thunders the primeval. that Atlas sustains so as not to sink us with his pole, and save all unconverted humanity, making servitudes towards the land of putrid leaf and not the other way around, after so many failed attempts of a Hyletica, or usurpations of matters that are alien to him. certain improper uses such as the mantle of the precious ozone of Eden. The enthronement of the creator will be on the created and will be present, and yes it will be! De Spinalonga with his holocaust of matter will magnetize the mutuality of perished matter in the paw of evils that could not understand his soul matter.

Theus enthroned in Kalydon, here he waited for Wonthelimar before crossing to the islet. His brother Vikéntiko was objectifying himself with his spur scientist in the opening of a new rebirth, in this navel that will seek to untie the aphonia that was difficult with the smallest ellipsis that it implies, by intimidating the miserable prospect that nothing will be redeemable, even later to raise the standards of truly real and not virtual freedom, when the Vexillum that Wonthelimar brought to institute the Genius Loci of Spinalonga appeared. He came along with Marielle, Dyonisius, and Vlad Strigoi. The ethical debate from now on will focus on how to exalt the lepers and *** Bei Himnon and Spinalonga after the Manes Apsidas disassociated themselves from the ethical debate on the island after the departure of the Otomaniacs. The critical evolution will be for the hopeless of a definitive residence that conceptualizes the abandoned, and totally destitute of the chamber or convalescence session, taking them to the Mysterium Ecclesiae, carrying in themselves doctrinals that have supremacy and predominance of the relief of the drama of an existence gray and dark, of those who lie under dire diseases, with advanced duels and an exempt dogmatic formula.

The astrophysics of Spinalonga shows here a universe that distances itself from inextricable nothing, and nothing that alludes to navigating or discovering the point of a ba-ab point, with astrophysical interlocutors that emanate from the realities of stories, which occur more prone to whom be able to resist morbidity with total Christian doctrine, although still asserting itself in coming cycles where Christians are observed fleeing the formulations of a great theologian astrophysicist named Mashiach, who will unite them with the lipoid of Orion, or with the two quantum bracers of *** Bei Himnom and Spinalonga. The quantum record can be cited with immaterial alchemy that emerges from a retrograde biological evolution, for those who believe in archaeology as a state and complement of the logic of the omnipresent-bilocated God in Vernarth parapsychologies, going back to times that passed, passed and they will pass in any dimension of the common man, and whoever is added in the impersonal value in a dynasty of Christian thought, which accommodates the Lodging Ghost of Theus, together with the Mashiach, for a holistic with new body prototypes and souls, which would redesign a paradise definitive. The gaps will give guessed…! And the whole will be to create supposed voids under the law of the conjectured whole, here the continents will pilgrim, containing the same Rabbi co-responsible for all dualism that is ingratiated with divine omnipotence.

Low are freedoms as a final cause, an efficient cause that brings together greater merits of acquiring the personal vote, by acquiring inimitable tenors throughout the cosmos and archetype of man, which does not end with its used prototype substance, relating as one created after the creator told him that he would never abandon him, perhaps being Theus? Spinalonga, a city of the leprosarium, was distinguished from the apprehensions of the Anthropokairos and from the privations of the Apsidas Manes, without pain or fears that will redouble the rudders that unite it to this geomantic duplicity, uncreating mutations that would not appear in the limited collective imagination, rather in the existence that everything is at once, especially when the verb recovers the creative act, towards divine infinity, in Vernarth's kenosis or empty will, purging all of humanity ... It will be more meat on Patmos.
Volume VII - Spinalonga, Manes Apsídas
STLR Nov 2016
This is not for the Internet
Nor for the people with small minds & intellect

I'm gonna **** this ****
Make you feel like you hearing it

Reversing the hearse awaking spirits
Flash backs of my past life
death & life in the same vision

I am well spoken, I don't have limits

Intellectuals gather round

Abusive my words,
I use them to forge a sound
Spiritually I am bound
Lyrically I embrace
I'm an outer being
sending beckons from outer space
I cascade vivid arrays

I stay a stray
no need for distractions, for actions are soon to decay, we will all fade away
If time is of your concern your mental is in the fray

Monumental are my credentials
Magnified by 1 millions typed characters
Nouns, similes, Metaphorical Caricatures

all illustrated with my thoughts so that my imagination burns

verbal fortification
this is physical & mental
ABC Fornication
i penetrate with pen & pencil

ink splashed all the way back to the past
where i pick up the pieces & write my inner thesis alas!!

Student mighty morphed to teacher in class

Letters shaped the size of titans
they clash

I'm on a different level
mediocrity passed

Weegie board turned to Beat Machine
I distorted the devils laugh

I can finally say, THIS IS MINE, i have this ****!!!

Verbal Aerial pathogens...infected cross this digital earth
cross blogs, external links an other virtual passages

Execution, is an illusion if you don't know how to handle it
I've slanted words like Asian eyes which are well applied
like store discounts or letters of acronyms

Acrobatic an Systematic Literature formed out of pure passion is
quite a feat, like defeating an
enemy or your top nemesis

Extra curricular activities
divide minds mentally

I blaze cross alliterations
An dash cross similes
Actions are of an activist
Profitable productivity

I've reached a pinnacle
Riddles do damage
like swinging outer extremities

word play causes earth quakes & shatters ribs
of my enemies

Potent Poetic Vertices's Vanquish
Villains Vicinities

Humanitarian Hustler
puncturing profitability
narcissus necromancer negotiating
aeronautical abilities

methodical mysteries
motivate yet are menacing

lateral lyricist lunging letters linguistically

dedicated design distorted with no dependencies

propelling phonics plummeting
phrases physically

catapulted curriculum,
concussions caused critically

infatuated infections infuse
with my inks incredibly

Enough words to make structures
Nouns create sound stability

Mr. Poet Freak Forever and on to
Ink-finity

— The End —