A long, long time ago, I can still remember when,
Junk food made me smile,
And I knew if had my chance,
That I could make my fatness dance,
And maybe I was happy for a while.

But McDonald's made me shiver,
With every burger they'd deliver,
Bad news on their doorstep,
I couldn't take one more step.

I can't remember if I cried,
When  I passed size twenty-five,
But something touched me deep inside,
The day I knocked back obesity fries,
CHORUS.
So, bye, bye McDonald's French fries,
Drove my  chevy away from McDonald's,
didn't have a bevy,
I said goodbye to whiskey and rye,
Singing no more apple pies,
That's the end of obesity fries.....

Did you  go to McDonald's biomes?
Did you know you're  changing your genomes?
Eating all those pesticides?
Now do believe they love you, guys?
Might as well eat dead flies!
And can you change evolution in real time?

Well, I know you're addicted to them,
You'll need more than treadmills in the gym,
Now can't even put on your shoes,
Man, you'll dig the obesity blues,

CHORUS.

I was an obese teenage bronco buck.
Driving to McDonald's in a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day I ate landfill in those French fries...

I started singing bye, bye obesity fries,
Drove my chevy, had no bevies,
And the burgers were dry,
This is the day I knock back French fries.

CHORUS.
I met a girl who sang the blues,
She'd passed turning size twenty-two,
I asked her if she ate junk food too,
She just smiled and drove away,
I drove down to the store no more,
Where I ate additives years before,
But the junk food store didn't care anyway...

CHORUS
CHORUS....

Gratitude always falls short of intention,
leaving only a fiction of our meaning,
when silence descends blinking neon emotions
and a void, rather than a hoped for event horizon of joy.

But, it's how you transcend that shimmers humanity,
makes doubt ephemera and avoids conclusion.
No longer a skulker in spiky weeds,
you emerge radiant in a woman's wisdom.

Likely, it comes from a mother's nurture,
but the solitude of silence, these your father's whispers.
So, you've escaped both superficial and awkward,
arisen the womb unscathed --- Proceed to middle age!

Though perception often baffles understanding,
human genomes revel in such challenge.

Procorus was going back to his cell by the path of stairs, through configurations of Spiritual Intelligence, revealing his anti-material genetic funeral to him, thus opening himself to his evolutionary expiration charisma. It is conceived in the speed of fusion of the material gene with that of its anti-material, and with the speed disambiguation of Gen with its ancestry information, being closer than the portions that distanced it from its unquantifiable differences, which only lay insubordination in the block of his Faith forbidding him. The linkage of its endogenous source and of the speed of its genetics, evolved into inclusive after the unknown steps of its immaterial ascending obstacle, which appeared in its bed, as a physiological and living conscious-attractive macro between what is off balance and not le is an organic analog. Molecularly its streets among atmospheres of devotional transgenetic, became regressive, where Procurus walked resigning desecrated immaculate footsteps, with lines that merged into navel genomes in the cups of Hydrias and Stamnos with defined characteristics to transship his spiritual micro substance as Procurus water, and in aquatic debris with torn remains inherited from heaven and earth, dispensed along the way and fitting him in his cacles, where each piece of his will was housed in an intermediate material fraction, characterized by linear pieces that brought him closer to his room waiting for Saint John The Theologian. When he continued walking, his evolution followed him, distributing itself accompanied by his ideo-tendencies and his changing degenerative emotionality between the reaches of his insurmountable contained recapitulation, in conjunctural codons that differed from transformed enzymatic modalities, capturing the alignment from a careful apocalyptic event of the gene, in speed and hyper propulsion. Coexisting in silent locution that arrived at the dawn of his third ear, invaded by phono-auditory and pro-organic regions that began from a general temptation of his empty clairvoyant memorial, which appeased the pseudo traffic of dysfunctional structures and channeling traced in its origin and of its cloistered final destination, with the precision of this temporal space that was of extreme physical exactitude but of extreme and erratic physical laterality. Procorus was imminently traveling in the tunnel of the Apocalypse at high speed between disinherited non-physical genes, traveling through Eucharistic bases in lower universes, nitrogenous among unborn beings, and turning green in one hundred and fifteen pulsations on the underside of other equal pairs, but with non-biological reading frames that They passed in materiality and immaterialized uncertainties, which were linked by their intangible prayers, of frame materiality and irrational reading in the same distance between the elements that were rapidly approaching from their nascent aerial, spun and immaterial state, which was moving in the human contradiction. , in irreconcilable liturgical union and in apocalyptic passages to be rewritten certainly under a eucharistic dogmatic polymorphism, and cybernetic savagery, for those who try to disconnect from Vernarth's parapsychological regression.


The maladjustment is a reclusive source of the speed gene, which argues erroneous genetic routes, reimplantations, and mutants of spaces of matter and transience, causing dogmatic vocational asphyxia and of its faith, therefore in its grasp and vague cellular existentialism, tons of disorders they flow in pernicious comparative pro-genetic precocities, before new ****** species of the neural-emotional, already three-dimensional, erecting itself in its physics, also with the projection of Procorus reaching the boundary of a provisional irresolution, under an image of a future ancestor that shared its vigor of future ancestors who centrally ran out of outraged genomes, which were intrinsically dwarfed upon entering the monastery. Being neutralist in its sequence of speciation, its arboreal genus split into its great molecular caste that was already conferred in a few steps before arriving from the leafy unconscious phylogenetics and reissuing from its componence. Procorus emphasizes its procedural human sequence, scrutinizing its rest in itself, rather than self-seclusion from all the keys of its differentiated, anatomical and psychic numeral duplicate, in more common expectations equations and results in it ..., to exile itself from its analog diversity and Christian bite, taking him where no duplication of the same can continue with another, without regretting going backward neither in symmetrical pairs nor in its parallel biological base, the key to obscurantism and the subconscious that flees by deserting, even achieving successful orderings in falls decoding, showing him the creation of his entity and an anti-Procurus anchoring behind the hominid world, in millions of sequences that are interviewed in dissonant bundles of knowledge by thousands in which it is not contained.

(Procorus, undoubtedly by numbers of thousands of combinations, becomes greater in the encodings of all the compositions that are going to be reproduced from the distance of their matter, with immemorial and portentous that align the authority of its vital activity, as instantaneous reproductive matter and antimaterial entity, as causal and recessive sequence commutations, creating Procurus personalities that exceed their cell, not first… but a few minutes before…, and in their future ancestors a little later…)

There is something before the words,
Before the light of labels
Descends from the sun of thought
To name her yawn:
Cute,
Precious,
Important.

There is some knowing
Prior to calling it a “yawn”.
Say the word “yawn” repeatedly
And it will lose all meaning
And fall down a technicolor faucet
Towards ridiculousness.

So what is this fracture in time?
This single extra slide
Spliced in before the movie begins,
Displaying more meaning
Than the entire film that follows.

Perhaps it is instinct.
We are (grateful) slaves to the genomes
Of our ancestors.
Do the graceful notes Jerry hands to me
Dance through the synapses of my mind,
To remind me that community means safety?
And success in our endeavors once meant:
Food
****
Sleep
Repeat

Or is it emotion?
Testosterone rising up to battle butterflies in my gut
Because the romantic in me knows
This one
Is worth the wait
This one
Is worth the risk

Is it God?
Fighting with all her might
To tear into our consciousness,
But turned away
At the inhale
That precedes the sweetest of songs.
Sorry God –
Life is short
No time to think about it.

And here is the kicker.

It’s none of these things.
How could it be?
How can words describe
That which comes before words?

It isn’t anything
It just is.

VERNARTH
Monastic  Cell

Vernarth begins to describe:
"This magnificent monastic complex dominates the island, and the old settlement of Chorá, associated with it, is home to many religious and secular buildings, where the famous pressurization of the inspiring forces of the Beloved Disciple is present, in this place he will reside in the sacred year 95 AD. AD, with his Gospel and the Apocalypse. A monastery dedicated to the "beloved disciple" was founded there in 1088 by Hosios Christodoulos Latrinos and has been a place of Greek Orthodox pilgrimage and teaching ever since.

Spilaion Apokalypseos (Cave of the Apocalypse) Many architectural changes have undergone over 900 years, adapting to changing political and economic circumstances. It has the outward appearance of a polygonal castle with battlements flanked by towers. It also houses a remarkable collection of manuscripts, icons, and liturgical objects and works. The primitive elements, which date back to the 11th century, are the catholicon (main church) of the monastery, the chapel of Panagia and the refectory. The north and west sides of the inner courtyard are surrounded by the white walls of the cells, and on the south side stands the Tzafara, a two-tier arcade in dressed stone, built in 1698. The outer narthex of the catholicon forms the east side. . Halfway up the steep path from Skalá to Chorá is the Cave of the Apocalypse (Spilaion Apokalypseos), where, according to tradition, Saint John dictated the Book of Revelations and his gospel to his disciple Prochoros. This sacred place attracted several small churches, chapels and monastic cells, thus creating an interesting architectural ensemble. ”
They continue in this set of phenomena towards the definitive mediation of the cavern by means of the inspirational illumination of the conduit of the ****** of the hundred doors or church of the hundred doors, declaiming the Panagia with the hermit and his disciple Prochoros, with remarkable whispers of the Blue Cormorant that he brought from La garriga; from a nearby ecoregion with plant formations emerging in the biomes of the Mediterranean forests, to incense all the white walls of the cells where the hermit led them walking together with two monumental candle torches. From here this cormorant will transport all the bioclimatic zones of the ecosystem, to constrain the Tytillinus embryo to be swallowed by it, predominantly to forget about its concept of egg as an oviparous generation of temptation and to be anchored to the plant site as an original species. . This blue cormorant is a superlative factor in the context of changing the cephalization of this demon-monster in the collective consciousness of the grotto and its shed.

They transpose the Tzafara, where the cormorant perches lavishly moving its head like a spasm in its neck to the northern north, illuminating its crimson green eyes. Destining his penances for the narthex as an open portico until the exonarthex, here the multiplied figure of Tytillinus would increase, appearing to be dominant before them, but all remained cohesive and closely united in paleo Christian rosaries, to re-infuse the forces of fear transferred to this invader.

Thus being able to reach the hemisphere of the mound that comes from Skalá, in front of them the Spilaion Apokalypseos grotto in Katapausis. You could see how the crystals of unhappiness turned into high-grade psalms of translucent stained-glass crystals of extremely shameful colors. Vernarth carried in his hand a Sheesham box with purisms and essences of the temple earth that he was building, he carried his magnificent thoughts inside the catholicon tied in his arms of the quarterdeck, where the raw solvents of the past wars as Military Commander oozed.
In front of the cave they all perch. Vernarth will inaugurate the Quadrivium whose four paths; They would group disciplines related to mathematics, geometry, astronomy and music as a study curriculum for the uprising of species and their preservation for centuries and centuries. Linked to the tracks or roads; grouping grammar eloquence and helping to speak, with dialectics to help search for the truth, and rhetoric coloring the words. Thus they understood the grammar, dialectic, rhetoric and its elementary figures and the three Trivium routes attached as a whole on this pilgrimage as they were already in front of the hermitage of the Saint. Raeder, Petrobus and Eurydice move their anxious feet with a few bars of Laziko, thus throwing from the ground with their feet the particles of thousands of years inseminated by the adjacent atmosphere towards the theological philosophical goal of the spirits satisfied to join them in the masses in proportion to the weight of their mobile talents, applying makeup like millennia to each other ..., parading before them.

Orpheons of the lowlands of Patmos were felt entering through the holes of the roof of the cavern, in communion to join them in the compas of this beautiful melody that diverged from all the original immaculate accents of the gifts along with the original of the Holy disciple. The petrified lotophagous mushrooms walked swiftly along the walls through the deviant Trojan ships, towards where the Trinidadian music descended from the roof, bruising the oversized apricots of the candlesticks, dazzling the other walls full of figurative tapestries of conceptual and iconographic images. Vernarth sang the Almara, an insistent retrograde song that invoked the entire community of Skalá and surroundings to join them through the arena sliding down the face-to-face gorge of the Katapausis, imbued in the mega center of the redoubled canticos of their own gorges, cloning the flat voices of the unknown mezzo vocal origin. Saint John only Vernarth allows him to enter his monastic cell, the others remain in the anteroom, pouring holy water and touching the hyper-curled walls of Chytridiomycota mushrooms that became voluminous in the immortal reflections of the vivid glow, to gather them to follow his insistent pastoral voice to a meadow of prominent demarcation step with its dynamic Laziko. Vernarth places in his hands a thick and heavy sacred medal, which will allow him to cease his lamentations and processes of Excessive occultism, before the heavy solitude procreated on his new face in rictus of joy and smiles in rounds of healing, beyond all predictions of his avatars and proselytes.


Vernarth goes on to describe:
A large amount of stress accumulated due to damage to the mitochondria that respond to the DNA that preserved the genetic material niche itself in a different way from that of the nucleus in the cavern, managing to dissipate after auscultating with the Quadrivium, detecting that a large part of the volumes manuscripts and iconographies were reactivated to other books as guests, to make them a living portrait for the tissue of the organism that parasitically inhabited the cavern walls. Inquiring an organized mitoconuclear communication. If they fail to resolve the mitochonuclear mtDNA breaks, before the radiosities of the celestial diaphragm, a dysfunction will be triggered that will affect the cells and tissues of the host, on all manuscripts and iconographies. These mitochondrial genomes will examine their function in the area of organic cellular spatiality, therefore the ideas obtained of incompatibility will remove all the saprophytic material from the rough trails of the demon granule Tytillinus, to exile it to the confines of its eco-region, where it lives unnaturally abandoned.

An evanescent canonical source alluding to this stay in Patmos will reveal to them through the roofs of all the houses of Skalá, mentioning through the mouth of the Eremita: “I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation, in the kingdom and in the patience of Jesus I was on the island called Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. I was in spirit on Sunday when I heard behind me a great voice like a trumpet saying: '' Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches (Rev 1: 9-11). Moist winds licked all the roofs changing the nuances and morning faces, proclaiming the new secular kingdom. ” The most detailed source, continues to deny his parchment although already in late popular event, on his stay in Patmos are the apocryphal Acts of John, attributed to his disciple Prochorus. In them it is told how Juan and his disciple looked for a quiet place with a cave where they spent ten days of fasting. Subsequently, John sent Procorus to buy papyri and ink, and for two days dictated to his disciple the text of the revelation. Later the saint would entrust his disciple with a noble copy on parchment. The Golden Legend makes practically no reference to these moments, except for a mention that "he was entrusted with having confidentially known some arcane and profound things, such as the divinity of Jesus Christ and the end of the world".

The apostle appears on the spot presenting Vernarth with writing as a sacred office, also to commission future parchments for his future prophecies, and ink on a scroll or codex resting on his knees or on a desk. He also boasts showing him the writing tools (calamus, inkwell, rasorius, cornua) that are usually also reflected in considerable detail in the decals of his fingered golden fingers, accompanying the eagle, symbolically within the set of the tetramorphs of the old testament. Here Vernarth takes his face in compassion when he learns that his hermit master acquired the appearance of an octogenarian appearing accompanied by his disciple Prochorus, showing him the streaks, singing to them with the ninety years since he was exiled. It is a subject of late consolidation, very frequent in the late medieval manuscripts that contain this book or fragments of it, especially the books of hours where the image of the saint abounds on the island accompanied by the eagle, allusion to the apocalyptic living, and with much Frequently, of an imp that throws the inkpot or hides the calamus and that many authors have identified with Titivillus, a medieval demon who was credited with spelling errors in books and mistakes in prayers in order to win souls for Lucifer. The first reference that is had of this terrible demon is in the Tractatus of Penitentia of John of Wales, which dates from the year 1285, which will be evidenced in the framework of this stratagem entrenched in Vernarth's career as a Macedonian warrior, and that he would bring with this odeón the detuned song that would rule those who cultivate the art of sound near luminous beings prone to lose faith, as well as those who represent here as Tytillinus, vast evil oppressor of those who look at sacred scriptures affecting their eyes, as a sign of peeling of degraded human eye skin.
The others appearing were outside in a shed, all very close to each other, just waiting for the order to leave. Suddenly they see a brilliant blue waving light, which was coming down on them, it was an eagle coming towards them as a signal to tell them that Vernarth was coming back, to go to go with them to their rooms and continue with their daily tasks.

Under edit / continue

Zefian; Butler of the greater demon, he would be forced to make the main stained glass window of the Castello del Horcondising, he will continue to put himself on the posts in each hermit tree to recruit from the horsemen lordships of the autumnal massif, towards an eternal wailing of birches in harmony. Pay attention to the words and challenges of presence in the Vernarthian Sub Mythology in Horcondising. Everything will be for the creative principle of a new world, where the materiality that will be useless on the surface, is of value and prosperity ubiquitously in any space where the human race degrades to eternity levels of consciousness.

Biological goal, codes of life, material works beyond a life that reconciles organic life and ethereal life. The evolutionary codes of life go further from the super existence, creating transformations that alternate life in spiritual memory, based on multidimensional spiritual intelligence. The consequence and serial of future ideas or captures of fruitive life,  which will be continued in storage links of gospels of remembrance, to preserve our bio-evolutionary trajectory codes. Super microscopic particles will be decomplexed by Zefián, more withdrawn from the demonicity that is rooted in our faith codes, procreating from there to our filtering mechanics of the dogma of existence, to be applied as perfectible memorization tools, allelomorphic from Tsambika to Horcondising. Creating codes of life and experiences between the creation of God and the creation of the superficial world, in such a way that between both canons, the emergent and fleeting guideline of experience contained in the threshold of death is issued. To go further away from the light itself that does not invade us with diseases correlative to the decomposition and corruptibility of the human born and steely spirit, heading towards an ethereal biological goal. .

Says Leiak: “As the spirit of the Vernarth forest in Horcondising, I have been a multi-parasitic organism in the barks of hyper-spaced oaks, beyond all vanity of large volumes of knowledge and extensions of knowledge. My possible genomes change, each time I blink for a longer time, than the short time I have when resources mutate in such a silent time, which I have been able to measure mathematically. The adaptations of nature to threatening changes also endorse the soul of plants, endowing them with the property of resurrection. The comparative sequences make the evolution of the divine being go beyond the biodegradable sequence, to the point of biological balance of constituting a new life, in the plane of selectivity proper to the particles that carry and attract towards the receptacle of a new life, under the code of a transition from one to one that is reborn in another. Each microscopic element functions as a totalitarian entity in Vernarth submythology, harmoniously linking the chaos and concretion of the world of Genesis with the world of the polytheistic worldview.

Says Borker: “My vaporous voice of the curse, guide that heralds a new one that is leading in Tsambika. Everything bad tends to resurrect in the arms of goodness, where it provides nourishment for those who need to incubate new chains of organic and inorganic adaptability, evangelized and not evangelized, because the light that carries them from the top of the oaks that I pass through the mornings, they always greet me, to proceed like Borker, son of nothing and father of nobody. Here I will be to lead together with Vernarth, the emancipation of the stagnant eco-systemic chains that are stranded in the mud of the administrative power of the supposed super intelligence, which relativizes everything and intervenes. Not knowing that the great super reason by itself recreates itself, making new chaos or riddles, overcome by itself”
Zefián says: “Originally, thousands of cells have been condemned to encompass the density of matter and life on the planet of the experiments called Earth. What is between heaven and earth is in the sub mythology of both poles. Eurydice was in the Orphic world given her romanticism with Orpheus Himself, now she is in our tracóntero, in the mask where she leads the forces between heaven and earth. Right here the Horcondising, which fills us with high associative density. Our populations have to live in the temples of evolutionary austerity and meekness, after events of three-dimensional changes, ours here in Horcondiing has already been mentioned, which is the same as now in Tsambika, for all the parishioners decomposing, but biologically mutating to reborn in a useful life reborn from the seed of sweet death "
  
The Vernarthian sub mythology is the one that perfectly communes with the genesis of the first light and sound, amplifying each other, adapting nobly with the amplitude of momentum exerted, to settle in plans of management of history in thick episodes that have not written by mortal hands in real or fictitious transition which we also conform. Each character that intervenes in the Verthian world ..., here something or someone has complementarity with all the heroes and titans that have existed in our collective memories, making them the anti-heroes or titans that still do not know each other.

Ingratia mol de petal says: “even after being purified, everything must be re-purified; we all owe it to thanks to the constant variability of the notes of the cosmos and its generation. The auras of action surpassed those that add up by thousands of years. I am a liquidator of cancer circles of carcinoma and sainete nodules”

Spermazoid fable is presented to everyone: “Serous plasma runs through the grasslands, before the supra-human count in Horcondising. We are all invisible liquid, that speaks crawling and feeding back its wounds, that do not fit with words that speak further of the rigor of well-being. As a heretical pro, he advanced in the roughness of all the ravines and abandoned reliefs, but when he advanced I do not retreat! I am more vile than time, because time passes and retraces the protozoan memory, moving me away to memories that live and are avant-garde of a mortal, but I have nothing everything. When I have these roughness, I am time and its atomic mass dimension stops time, and attached me to its extermination and nihilistic empty concavity”

Orfilia and Aranhis say while dancing: “a sylph and a naiad appear dressed in white, auguring the feminine aspect of the majesty of the elements. They dance through all the co-rugosities of Verthian sub-mythology, with the support of annulling the hieratic intervention of the spermatozoid fable, for this purpose of relativizing the chromatics of the mythological beings that made a dialogue wheel, peripatetic, even being actors having only audience of those who do not know each other. They dance and dance through all the estuaries and stands of the aristocratic families, who went more than three thousand meters to be judged by themselves, to be redistributed to the chilling of the simile *** bei Hinnom, which is at the top of Horcondising, where all the hallucinating timid flashes of all the re-born flowers of the spring of love whistle fiercely contained in the rosy tones of the Trisolate "

Trisolate: “I am and will be the great conductivity of great energy. Symbolism with a premise today to not think and know words with symbolism of speaking oak barks, where this oak says in itself (I say, later you say), the pronoun must be mutated to the sixth plane, where now we will say or that has never been heard. Only by naming the one that is no longer in the associative language of linguistic clans subject to the sixth pronoun of oaks that live and will live with the code of the language that we have never heard, but starting today if, as a point of reference already bet in the ears of the tree and not the deixis protozoan man! "
  
Vernarth says: “When I try to sleep at night resting my head on the understory of oaks, I sleep painlessly because of the vertebrae that urge to rearrange me, because the roots of his ego on the sixth plane make me consciously independent of the references of my fantasies, It will not be long before my wing comes around the metaphysical corner. Here at the Castello del Horcondising the blocks are not square, they are baldons of the memory of the natural ego, which takes the tram through which my shoes came without clothes that condition it or allow it to express itself tetraplegically handicapped, rather more validated by being trapped by the ghostly essence of oak that is never born or dies, but knowing that it has no Ego”

Yo
Fil -Am I am
Tho' that Uncle Sam
Is a pilfering kind of uncle,

I still believe in Love
Of Freedom rides
Of Lady Liberty's symbolic
Light
Burning brightest
A united flame...

Yo! Bro'
There's no need (yet so many do)
Have - nots hafta
Feed
         All Walks
                            Long Roads
Home.

The seeds will sprout
                   Great roots / Evergreen

When we quench every thirst
        With poetic Justice
Logic / Science / Reasoning

Truth.

Yo!
Now, Says we
No Underground or miners' sky of coal
Cuz hearth is home
Where the heart is strong,
(Where resides living souls)

A coat of amor of many hues

Of cotton--chain gang--rainbows
Of our bodies
Electric / this sojourn railroad
We dance
       Deep down getting down
Blues / rhythm/ love on high
Every kind
Spectrums of hot jungles and purest light.
Sun tan and showers
Brought to you by the Maker
Of Sky...

Yo!
Joe, my bro', is not
No ******,
G's / Living Proof
Peeps this
White wigs
My All American is multinational
(A Hero)

Youths
And fountains

A World of many nations
Toward one republic :
Mans Fire and Golden worth
(The future points to moot)

From soot or steep
Great Walls and Mountains'
Sherpa Buddhist peace
Rise from our only Earth
As we bask beneath
with all
The bounties of the Sun

We are Sam / I am you
And we are
One
      together

Here the same
We are
American genomes

As for me, half breed
A Filipino and green
With Irish flame
"O-oh"
No shame in my game.

Yo! Americans
            
Be Thankful / you thinkers in kind

Mankind / Human
Down to the last
Past
Suffering,
Sufferage and Tribunes,
From melting pots
A succotash

What kind of American are you?

___________

*African American
Native American / Indian American-Hindi
Asian American
Irish / Italian American
Spanish speaking Mexican American
Japanese and Chinese American
Korean American
European / Candian / French American
Siberian / Slavic American
Middle Eastern / Arab American
All American Russian / Serian American

A cohabitat of all of us.
(A world of beautiful Mutts)

Undoubted, this level of worship,
Reaching above pulling currents
That justifies imposing torment
And yet drips blood of the calcified.
"It is inherent," I'm o'er told,
"To find and end your searching,
To seek but one thing to love."
What if I hate everything?
What if I'd be one with death,
What if I strive for your lament?
Perhaps I lust for some psychosis
Perchance to wake in your nightmares,
How is it, my dear, so far from belief,
That I would see this whole world burn?
Swallowed with plague,
Tyranny falls,
Dictatorships topple,
Monarchy crawls,
Your loved ones suffer,
Your friends all die,
Words become acid,
Tears are suicide,
Encrypted genomes
Now unlocked with instinctual bliss,
The inner beast assumes power,
The concious mind now sleeps,
Crime is objective,
A pure outlook of opinion,
Flayed heads on pikes,
The sentries of deception,
I want apocalypse in all forms
Spared of all deities' protection
I want the human mistake erased,
I want requiem and revelation.

Drop the *** and stomp it out,
we don't need no more forest fires,
respect the courage that should be admired,
cause wild winds bleed in closets
like back draft flames fighting for air.

Crack the door and welcome with yellow roses,
from ash colored clouds come rainbow stares,
**** phone gossip, this breeze needs to roam,
the future is bright with flamboyant genomes.

Let the black dogs run wild,
sharpen the knives for
some real back stabbing,
roundup the usual suspects,
the mystery is about to begin.

The cardigan teen with
his nose buried in his iPhone-
he’s a suspect- murderous thoughts
sprouting his blood-brain barrier.

The neglected son tethered
to a high ranking, paying
position in the family business
with nothing burdens-
he’s a suspect too.

Eight others are robbing
Peter to pay Paul
to pay Mary to pay Martha
to pay the extorting genomes,
on the verge of being exposed,
all dangling near disinheritance.

The old codger with the money
whose always leaving clean knives out,
knowing they will forever thirst
for meat and blood, the ******
that will do the work for him,
the job his lawyers failed to do

until the whole ***** gang
finds him splayed on the calico rug,
a Chuka Bocho clever in his stomach,
a Wusthof stuck in a vertebrae-
well, he was a prime suspect,
but now, obviously he is not.

Patricide is not always a family crime.
Point the finger at the mother,
daughter, sister, son, brother
but also the heart, soul, brain
of all others inflicted with hate
that makes everyone suspects too.

Paleovirology and the study
of endogenous viral elements (EVEs),
corresponding
to ancient viral sequence insertions
in eukaryotic genomes, (these)
are unveiling the long and rich interactions viruses
have entertained
with their host
{sssssspluralized)
From <https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3758193/>

A fine story, we may imagine it being read
by two minds as this computer-carnal mind
bios has accepted the upgrade…

Let us all hear the cheer, GO COOKIE MONSTOR
prepare the way before us,
make straight our path,
HA a joke
already we have insider yokes tugging religatory story
threads,

who has a hell we can **** time with?
who gots hangups from way back?

c'mon, ******* you, take me to your bossssssss
so I can say I know the snake lick trick,
I kiss the snake, I listen to the lizard, squeeze the toad
and croak
like I am the magic fish, being treated
dry and salted, for pre
servation. Later.

Blessed is the eye that read… you know what it said
and here you remember,
you felt alien… in all the way, familiar.

I saw attraction before I knew beauty,
it was not beauty I saw, it was bait,

I took it,
didn't I? Come up from deep worthless, light as air,
no lighter.

Think a friend, at gnosis level, I know you know me level.
Edge-wise, plane
existence, look on any vector, I'm this near,
yet you do not notice, until I touch your
nerve tuned to me, in the re-cog circuit.

-- it is the idea from field of dreams, used.
but it works, gets to those daddy shames,
and mommy blames, and social order error blames
that become shames in one generation,
if the hero goes mad in the process of maturing.

----
History. Today, we arrived  in this dry and empty place.

Lead to believe, that is all any told tale does. Led be.
The first rule of any story is be three parts,
Begin middle end
and those have common courses set for various outcomes,

now - on all the levels we have measured
mankind are of many minds on things that are mono polar
gut level direct control-
no free will after the taste test,
or the pleasure sense note is struck,
sequence
look it up,
after the hallelujah, comes the sequence of events
in order of meaning
in order of sense

intense the feeling men say they feel,
so big they feel the rapturous joy of knowing finally,
I see,
she is naked.

On that same day Adam discovered fleas.

--- how could he not know?

Chocolate, if I lacked the word,
would you know I had eaten it when we kiss?

Would you think I taste good, or I had tasted good?
---
Knowledge taken from trees in the forest,
where the fruit of life is living in order
for now,
we think,
we think everything, so far,
had no option in the math-gravity given.

The beginning we have, middle we got,
the book of life with my name in it,
seems to enfold along the ending edge and stretch.

Rumors of wars,
those are in all never ending stories, if we, a we,
I mean, I'm not

well.
I am. I am imagining that actual happy
is a state and state is still not settled
so we accept cookies and cash.

In case. Case meaning some literal thing,
this case, we are making up or for
all we can or may imagine we
are worth, just me and my innards.

Writing from the gut, unbalanced, pickled
pretty much hooked on dissolved carbon,
long before the duodenum - doncha
'magine, major blockages must form
to extend a gut enough to live on grass.

Slow belly, soft belly - be meeting the need
a we to be, be a friend to me, your most hated
other kind of person.
Not the serial killer sadist mad role from stories,
told to provoke
some minds developed to react addict, as told,
during 10, 000 hours of cop shows,
a role, watcher, grows hero as
spirations, selves extend in hope of seeing evil,
and stopping it,
secret, no body knows. But the hero.

Won't the future be nice?
So many benefits of modern technology.
You don't have to go grocery shopping,
Heck, your fridge can order for you now!
Cameras inside the washer and dryer, 'cause yeah.
You can even order casual companionship with an app.
Won't be long before we'll be able to match genomes online,
Probably interconnected with your social media and dating sites of choice,
No need to talk, or even meet, your phone just beeps and you know:
You've found the perfect mate!
Modern convenience folks, step right u-
Oh wait, no, stay home, get married right from your couch!
What's wrong you have the perfect mate, the perfect job, perfect home(s), 1.312 kids, 2.617 pets-
Love???
There's probably an app for that...

Her every thought a dodecahedron flowering  
Creation contaminating inebriated genomes
Petty larceny
The moonlight freezes the starless creek

“I know… we’re just eternity”

Words whispering unto the sweet silence.

A shared glance as cells and genomes transpire and activate this beeting mortal chest.

Romance fills the air.
Your smell, like ambrosia; the scent to me.

I look to life once more.
Your sun beems in through the clouds.

Starring into each others eyes as I hold your hand close to me to know I'm not dreaming.

To savor and indulge these moments in deepest mellow pastures.

Speak not lest we spoil the serenity that still quells the doubt and uncertainty.

My mind wells with strong thoughts as our hearts thunder however rest assured and worry not because I love you.

Lucretius envisioned the universe
as made of atoms governed by chance,
with a "swerve" reserved in the void to
salvage some semblance of free will.

Breathtakingly, he foresaw the chief
discovery of our age: atomism, which
we harnessed for energy, genomes,
and the horror of Hiroshima.

His brilliance cannot compete
with the mushroom cloud's darkness.
He foresaw the building blocks
of reality; we deconstructed them.

Insight, wisdom and true philosophy
live of one side of the millennia.
On the other, that same wisdom
crumbles into fusion, fission and death.

Good can be used for ill, unwittingly;
ill can rarely, if ever, be used for good.
Lucretius peered into the anatomy
of the universe and beheld the atom.

Science of our age followed his vision
and beheld, unwittingly, the ferocious
power of destruction, all atoms swerving
from their path. Free will would have its day.

I started out the bottom, unlike that ****** drake.
I never seen a biracial rapper try so hard not even logic can take that cake.
Bro got merked by Pusha, then got merked by Kendrick; that ain’t even up to no debate.
Call that a double homicide, but there ain’t gonna be no roses for some jail bate!
Man, Chat gpt working more overtime than your efforts to increase the populations birth rate.
Got R Kelly jr over here; hold up, wait… where’s the police?
Perhaps them goofy goobers can’t handle the heat?
Of them, 81’s grovelling beneath a CP’s feet.
****, I’d never thought I’d see the day when gangs went against their own beliefs.
Money over everything, corrupting everybody from thugs to priests.
But at least it’s got everyone distracted, keeping their eyes off the Middle East.
Tell when I start telling lies? Only then will I take a seat!
Pa pa pa pow, rest in peace!
Pa pa pa pow, rest in peace!
**** this ****!
Bring the lyricism back; I ain’t here to make no twerking songs.
You best know Classy J grew up on that real ****, like those Shady, Biggie and Tupac songs!
I don’t have beef with ya unless you're Drake or the Diddler; we’ll probably get along.
This is usually the part I’d tell them to **** my ****.
But I know the thought of it would get them perverts salivating like some dog.
Ra, ra, ra ruff, ruff! Am I wrong?
Ra, ra, Ra, ruff, ruff! I ain't wrong!
Okay, okay, okay, for real, though.
I ain't claim to be no hero!
I ain't no villain either; I'm more like Malcolm, man; I'm something in the middle!
And these rhymes help me stay in remission,
So, that I always keep **** level.
For real, I gotta keep working to block out the lies of the devil!
Which was formed by trauma since I was very little.
Even before that, the pain was literally ingrained in my people's genomes!
A legacy of death that will take a couple of generations to heal.
Yet some still believe that it ain't no big deal or if it was even real.
The fact is, humanities ****, and we’ll eventually clog our own wheel.
Tell when I start telling lies? Only then will I take a seat!
This is my classy interlude *****; class is in session; take a seat!