Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning how the heavens and earth
Rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples th’ upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for thou know’st; thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dove-like sat’st brooding on the vast Abyss,
And mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That, to the height of this great argument,
I may assert Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.
  Say first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,
Nor the deep tract of Hell—say first what cause
Moved our grand parents, in that happy state,
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress his will
For one restraint, lords of the World besides.
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
  Th’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
He trusted to have equalled the Most High,
If he opposed, and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.
  Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as Angels ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light; but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Such place Eternal Justice has prepared
For those rebellious; here their prison ordained
In utter darkness, and their portion set,
As far removed from God and light of Heaven
As from the centre thrice to th’ utmost pole.
Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and named
Beelzebub. To whom th’ Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:—
  “If thou beest he—but O how fallen! how changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads, though bright!—if he whom mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest
From what height fallen: so much the stronger proved
He with his thunder; and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change,
Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,
And high disdain from sense of injured merit,
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
And to the fierce contentions brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits armed,
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
All is not lost—the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power
Who, from the terror of this arm, so late
Doubted his empire—that were low indeed;
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,
And this empyreal sybstance, cannot fail;
Since, through experience of this great event,
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.”
  So spake th’ apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;
And him thus answered soon his bold compeer:—
  “O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
That led th’ embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endangered Heaven’s perpetual King,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,
Too well I see and rue the dire event
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heavenly Essences
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state
Here swallowed up in endless misery.
But what if he our Conqueror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o’erpowered such force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire,
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whate’er his business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep?
What can it the avail though yet we feel
Strength undiminished, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?”
  Whereto with speedy words th’ Arch-Fiend replied:—
“Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure—
To do aught good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destined aim.
But see! the angry Victor hath recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o’erblown hath laid
The fiery surge that from the precipice
Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
Let us not slip th’ occasion, whether scorn
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there;
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope,
If not, what resolution from despair.”
  Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides
Prone on the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the fables name of monstrous size,
Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,
Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast
Leviathan, which God of all his works
Created hugest that swim th’ ocean-stream.
Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam,
The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,
Deeming some island, oft, as ****** tell,
With fixed anchor in his scaly rind,
Moors by his side under the lee, while night
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays.
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay,
Chained on the burning lake; nor ever thence
Had risen, or heaved his head, but that the will
And high permission of all-ruling Heaven
Left him at large to his own dark designs,
That with reiterated crimes he might
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought
Evil to others, and enraged might see
How all his malice served but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn
On Man by him seduced, but on himself
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured.
  Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty stature; on each hand the flames
Driven backward ***** their pointing spires, and,rolled
In billows, leave i’ th’ midst a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air,
That felt unusual weight; till on dry land
He lights—if it were land that ever burned
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire,
And such appeared in hue as when the force
Of subterranean wind transprots a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side
Of thundering Etna, whose combustible
And fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire,
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds,
And leave a singed bottom all involved
With stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate;
Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood
As gods, and by their own recovered strength,
Not by the sufferance of supernal Power.
  “Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,”
Said then the lost Archangel, “this the seat
That we must change for Heaven?—this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he
Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest from him is best
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields,
Where joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,
Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new possessor—one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reigh secure; and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th’ associates and co-partners of our loss,
Lie thus astonished on th’ oblivious pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy mansion, or once more
With rallied arms to try what may be yet
Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?”
  So Satan spake; and him Beelzebub
Thus answered:—”Leader of those armies bright
Which, but th’ Omnipotent, none could have foiled!
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers—heard so oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battle, when it raged, in all assaults
Their surest signal—they will soon resume
New courage and revive, though now they lie
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,
As we erewhile, astounded and amazed;
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height!”
  He scare had ceased when the superior Fiend
Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,
Behind him cast. The broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening, from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
His spear—to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand—
He walked with, to support uneasy steps
Over the burning marl, not like those steps
On Heaven’s azure; and the torrid clime
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.
Nathless he so endured, till on the beach
Of that inflamed sea he stood, and called
His legions—Angel Forms, who lay entranced
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades
High over-arched embower; or scattered sedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed
Hath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o’erthrew
Busiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued
The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
From the safe shore their floating carcases
And broken chariot-wheels. So thick bestrown,
Abject and lost, lay these, covering the flood,
Under amazement of their hideous change.
He called so loud that all the hollow deep
Of Hell resounded:—”Princes, Potentates,
Warriors, the Flower of Heaven—once yours; now lost,
If such astonishment as this can seize
Eternal Spirits! Or have ye chosen this place
After the toil of battle to repose
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn
To adore the Conqueror, who now beholds
Cherub and Seraph rolling in the flood
With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon
His swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern
Th’ advantage, and, descending, tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!”
  They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;
Yet to their General’s voice they soon obeyed
Innumerable. As when the potent rod
Of Amram’s son, in Egypt’s evil day,
Waved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud
Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind,
That o’er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung
Like Night, and darkened all the land of Nile;
So numberless were those bad Angels seen
Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell,
‘Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;
Till, as a signal given, th’ uplifted spear
Of their great Sultan waving to direct
Their course, in even balance down they light
On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain:
A multitude like which the populous North
Poured never from her frozen ***** to pass
Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons
Came like a deluge on the South, and spread
Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.
Forthwith, form every squadron and each band,
The heads and leaders thither haste where stood
Their great Commander—godlike Shapes, and Forms
Excelling human; princely Dignities;
And Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones,
Though on their names in Heavenly records now
Be no memorial, blotted out and rased
By their rebellion from the Books of Life.
Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve
Got them new names, till, wandering o’er the earth,
Through God’s high sufferance for the trial of man,
By falsities and lies the greatest part
Of mankind they corrupted to forsake
God their Creator, and th’ invisible
Glory of him that made them to transform
Oft to the image of a brute, adorned
With gay religions full of pomp and gold,
And devils to adore for deities:
Then were they known to men by various names,
And various idols through the heathen world.
  Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,
Roused fr

c.1999/5000 1 air, and a glittering steel guitar,          guitar but not a letter
through the private window of the pictures appearing early on the walls
we are enjoyable,    the heat that can not see the dream as a child is worth changing the glass to the rock and Russia's councils,
like the brain of people who love the tricks of paper,
keep all the Jews in the garden of Christ,
the ****** field recently said at the French companies stockholder's meeting,
Superior athletes are as a huge sandwich, says Social society
and the coordinator; to be rich, the fighters for their blind guides have died, Bob is well-known in the field of knowledge;
his finger of the ancient hundredth century leaders of the wind
and the evening that sat in his memory;
1 Revolution a dance, dance with John
make color colors colorful clouds of radio;
To the mountains, 'to eat your body's fleshly body
with a child hiding a baby robot to turn them into pain';
In the Christian books, newspapers and in the air
on the ninth day, and Maria was wise in the morning,
at least; owned by fighters, and dressed in white *******;
policemen,         playing the second time,
We played a *******, waiting for Betty
to hear the Lord's words, cut off the sweet tongue
of Eve as an angelic tree on the waters
of the Einstein-Lucius wall, to the Goshen,
Venenatis Museum of Loyola, his other feet
on the corner of a righteous man buried
in the grave of Maecenas, who had been dropped
down to heaven; upon the head, and fat, nothing,
nothing; and in the garden of the founder
to understand the beach, and make it desolate,
and the restricted kingdom of their decision
states in color all the lines of the smoke of the city's smoke
in the wilderness, and is called according to the number
of prostitutes in public, the light in the middle,
warmly hot, such as the load of loafy artists
lost and standing in the woods of The supplier,
where the incredible Asian flag with the pitch problem
is not love, and I do not listen to their music;
Until the day you speak Online when the opposite screen is displayed. || |
Of the wind, 1 Leave a Kiss to come to ***** her sweet gay body
not of this writing, the windows of the secret of being is filled with the lot
of the image of the morning, children of the Wall, we are Alchemists,
the heat of the invisible things of his dreams
changes a kid to pieces,       to play inwardly,
'mirror of the rock', the Russian guy feels the passage of a pit,
he wanted the brain of the guys on the friendship
with the cat is the school of his lips,
as wet with the whole of the Jews as the garden of the Christ,
a ****** field wearing the arms of interest,
lately talking ground French Mountain Roast;
Pinky deserves to get high smoking sand for free,
bad and ugly Society says paint, prophet,
get rich; hire strippers with their blind dog sense,
Bob died in the science park perfectly unknown;
asking that his fingers' century of language's
center of knowledge of Angels, keep remembering
sitting modern dance floors and clubs; 1 move that
brought revolution dance, dancing with John
in this *****'s silver colored shades of radio;
Pregnant eating meat is no friend of the child
to turn the table in bed watching robot Hills plastic guns;
Christian writings in newspapers, at noon in Heaven,
Mary eyes the mothers' genius in the morning,
certainly; by eating strippers the cops were written
into the machine of *******, she was playing
the second ******* and waiting for Bettie
to hear the happy; cut the lights, her tongue produces angels
and tree smells, Eve waves her flanks under Einstein's Ivan walls,
her Loyola teething Football Muses begin to picture
sterilized legs' natural Orisha in a corner of the burial tomb,
what has been given has fallen to Maecenas his sleep,
upon his head of fat they lay, of vanity, they the garden
of developers understand the shore, and will take hold of her
to **** her **** and madly alter their clothing reading
of the whole singing songs of the glory of the smoke
of the wilderness of the town, almost all of you are called,
both digits of the ******* in the public light, yellow,
hot water taking her away in the middle
of it to go off and live on plunder;
the image to take hold of the flame
of the eyes of a messenger to become
acquainted with the course of the UFO's,
the price of a pulsing floral teenager's
cold beginning to talk about ***
to the corporation's newcomer the Devil,
simply looking bright;
****'s income ruins his already sweaty socks
as he stands at the bar drinking
with Providence where the Asian died
without new motion to move a song lover
to leave without a state they met
singing Karaoke together when they
would not listen to each other;
She lived to die enough and as they talked |
the Goddess Online opposite their screens appeared. |

1 air polished on the guitar,
the guitar but not the letters
through the private window,
the pictures shown in the morning
on the walls are enjoyable
and the summer does not seem to be a dream
that a child is converted to through the glass
of rock and Russia planted within the brain,
and those who love it deceitfully wrapped up in paper,
so all the Jews in the garden of Christ,
the ****** farmer recently said French companies
had an elevator at a huge tasting,
says Social Society and the coordinator
may be rich blind guides, who have died
at a crash, they and Bob well known
in the science field; wind in the evening,
a session of the old's of old age,
memory of yourself to be in your
hundreds; 1 Dance dance, dance,
color, color, color, color, and color on the radio;
At the top, it becomes part of the children's interlocking robot's body
that will relieve their pain; In the Christian books,
newspapers and in the air, on the ninth day of the sea
and the morning of the wise, at least, will have its enemies,
dressed for a rally, the police, playing the second playing
or impending waiting for Marcus
to hear the words cut off the sweet tongue
of Einstein's Eve an angel companion of a piece of wood,
L. to the Goshen sterilized the Museum of Loyola,
the others' feet buried in a tomb
just around the corner from Maecenas',
which that could have been sent
to the heavens; upon the fat thing;
in the garden, the founder of the people
understands the heights, and to protect it,
and for between the kingdoms
of the design of the state of the colors
of all the borders of the smoke of the city,
and the smoke of the wilderness, which is said,
according to the number of prostitutes
in the republic, the light of the middle
is the very hottest, such as the loafy artificers
to lose weight, the forests where a lot stands in the yard,
where are the incredible things who are Asian,
posters, and those who do not want to listen to music
are online today to tell you it has been
displayed on the opposite screen. ||| ||      ||||       |
|
1 air and a polished gita, guitar but not letters
through the private window, the pictures appearing
in the morning on the wall in the summer
and summer did not see the way this young man
was converted through a glass of rock and Russia
decided as a brain, and he loved by her tricks,
so all Jews in the garden of Christ, the ****** girl
soon said that the French councils seemed to be the largest,
said the Social Society and the leader could be rich,
blind guides, who had died in a casual accident, Bob
was well-known in the field of knowledge;
the wind in the evening, times of old age,
memory of itself to be a hundred; 1 Dance,
dance, color, color, color, color, and color
on the radio; At the top, it becomes a part
of the robotic mind of children who will experience their pain;
In Christian literature, newspapers and in the air,
on the ninth day of the morning and the morning of the wise,
at least, will have his enemies, dressed as a council,
policemen, playing at a second accident or a stop;
waiting for Marcus to hear the words in Einstein's native language
and the design of an angelic shape, L. to Ga-in, the Loyola city,
other graves buried in a tomb by the Maecenas corners,
which can be transmitted to the sky upon, oh,
one united nation; in the garden, the founder of the people
to understand the high places, and to defend it,
and for the governments of the shape of the state
the colors of all the smoke of the smoke in the smoke of the wilderness, which is said, such as number of prostitution in the city,
the light of the middle-class, such as skilled workers to lose weight,
forests where many have stayed in the yard,
where Asian wonders, posters, and people
who do not want to hear music on the internet today
tell you it has been displayed when the screen is opposite. ||||
| || |      
Annie polished up on her study of guitar,
but it is not in writing, deprived of a window
in the image of the remains of the wall,
summer, autumn, and they can see just
what a young man had recently amended
by the mirror out of the rock, in Russia
it was decided with the culture and loved,
through a mistake, out of all the Jews
which were in the garden of 1, Mary, the
dancer, the color, of color, of color, of color,
of the color of the letter, speaking of the rays
in the many regions of the privatization
of to do them wrong, however, you will not,
or still feel the pain of the air, of the
newspapers from the 9 in the morning,
in the morning; in the morning, by which
time the Council of the mind is upon
rats, Annie, the garment, or the enemy. | 1 |

Cat eyes,
Diamond in the haze.
Once to man a slave,
Now a slave to thyself.
Your dew doth melt,
As on a poster you should be!
Thine scars so repulsive to others,
Though so beautiful to me.
Don't you know? Thy sins can be forgiven?
Everyday a thanksgiving, with gratitude to pap you!
No remorse to snapcrack you, just rubies to wear your neck.
Cat eyes, Goshen mind, for whence dareth thou roam?
In this bedroom of incense and sage I light for ones such presence.

is it possible to spend your whole life fighting love
fighting for love
here I am and there you are
fighting for and fighting against
chasing a moment a sentence a feeling
is it possible to spend your whole life
determined to making it work
and is it enough? is it ever enough?
is it more than you could ever wrap your heart around?
is it possible to spend your whole life worried
of possibilities, whether or not these things will come
will I ever find a place to lie my worrying head
in the form of a lovers lap, corduroy pants on an autumn's day
is it possible to spend your whole life searching
is it possible to spend your whole life hiding
I've not a million lives but one
Love, where is my one?

All of the Richmond Hipsters
and time killing smokers are killing me
The hobos with broken thumbs
They just barely catch the bus
Late nights under the eastern stars
The City of almost-angels
beards and gauges and butts
Tatted up art chicks with more skin than clothing
Invite me over your threshold
Make me some supper, the coffee is in the ***
River tides carrying away the used condoms of the confused
Liquor breath, joints and e-cigs
Poets, painters, photographers
The air reeks of art and death
fist meets face meets pavement meets God
The good times are killing you, and I’m showering until the water runs cold
cough up my phlegm, it tastes like love
grinding against a stranger’s *** all night long - like it was all we knew
We couldn’t feel so we tried to touch
we fell short and drank from the puddles with gasoline rainbows
The bricks and cobblestones all have names that I will never know
Does anybody ever actually listen?
Life versus fun versus life versus death versus boring
Stack them up like tetris
The sun is sick with stories, the moon full of lies
And all the graffiti in the world won’t change that
snow sun rain sun blank canvases
hear the thunder of arrhythmic heartbeats
sweat drips and it tastes like ****
Black eyes on Bowe, black eyes on Goshen
Mad houses filled with gifted pianists
Ghetto driven dreams of another shot
Play that same acoustic guitar tune I like so much
I lost my harmonica in a storm drain
I lost my Mind in Richmond

That being said
we give as good as we get
don't stop at neon red hands
nothing but green go men
across clay and goshen
behind the Siegel center
Don't go to was with rams
a play pen ain't just for the kid
we need playpens for grown men
so I play with my pen
while I wait for my beer to get here
Don't point fingers at me
I cut looser than amateur directors
I cut looser than sad teenagers
never reaching the veins or arteries
with a BAC over 9000
I grew up on the internet
but tonight I throw up in your bathroom
and thank you for keeping the towels laundered
cheers for tonight
may tomorrow never come

Miles Joseph Saunders
A friend, an idol, a brother
This guy was like no other
I swear this guy wasn’t human
A stranger? He knew none
Everyone he met he loved
Even in basketball he shoved
His way to the front and on top
Persistent, he never did stop
He would love you and hug you
Even if he didn’t know you
He welcomed everyone in with a warm heart
When I heard the news it tore my heart apart
17 years young and gone with one bullet
He always told me live life to the fullest
You never know when it’s time to go
Feels like yesterday even tho it was ages ago
I just wish i could die to come and see you
Nowadays everyone is fake it’s sickening
And now I’m thinking back to the beginning
The first day we met and hung out
I knew we would be good friends no doubt
I loved every day we spent at Goshen
Now im lyin down in an ocean
Of my own tears filled with sadness
But I think of you and smile of happiness
I sit here and think about the good times
Like the night we stayed up before Florida
When everyone tried their best to ignore ya
When we played 2k and pulled some pranks
When we joked about robbing banks
Thinking of you now just brings pain
Tears fall all day long like the rain
But I know I should be happy
Because being sad is ******
And I know you wouldn’t want that
**** it up like you did in combat
Never let anyone see me cry
Miles, you better fly high
Without you it’s so hard
I ******* miss you ******
Every move you made was for the good
I could tell just by the way you stood
You would never back down
You were the toughest guy in town
I’m sitting here thinking you’re still here
The thought of you gone isn’t clear
Like how is someone so great
Gone the very next day
Got me in dismay
Pray to you my life to take
Wish the news was fake
Scratching my heart with a rake
Visiting your grave ******* hurts
Heart feeling like I need a nurse
A lambo you should’ve pulled off in
Couldn’t even bring myself to your coffin
I didn’t want that to be my last memory
Didn’t want that to be the end of our history
Last time I saw you, you were thriving
With positive energy, **** was exhausting
I’m so glad we were friends, you and me
But now I’m the one saying, Rest In Peace.

I

THE REMARK

She scornfully remarked,
"Ha, Ha, men?.....
They are dogs,
all of them"
and then went on
and said,
"Most of my friends are men"

II

THE QUESTIONS

It was a casual conversation
but left behind nagging questions:

One:
Is woman really liberated?
For if that were so,
she would be free to sow
the seeds for a malice-free life:
A life that is
marked by sobriety
and unshakable fraternity –
A distinguished burden which principally she
can carry gracefully
till we all reach Goshen.

Two:
Has man been always liberated?
You may or may not agree,
I just say what I see.

III

THE VICTIM

Among the countless atrocities
on the vast womankind,
a hoarse, feeble voice thus pines:

Look at him;
He has been trained to ****
and be unflinchingly killed.....

He is:
an oblivious slave to his condition,
.....a victim of unmindful persuasions
by apathetic social conventions....
crippled....plagued...
by inherited apparitions
of our grand forefathers.

He has been brutalized too
on his way from a wobbly boyhood
to a hard-bitten manhood.

IV

SYSTEMIC SCARS

One could write a manuscript.
Instead I cite a sparse list
about how
he has been systematically marred
by the oppressive
socio-economic-political farce:

......of the defense ministry,
or salvation through insurgency...

......of the drug cartel,
or the liquor-tobacco lobby...

......of the boss's fancy,
......of female friendly courts,
...even sports!!!
......of the spousal gripe.....
and most of all...
....through the stereotype hype.

V

DIS-EMPOWERMENT OF MAN

Is man really enfranchised?
I am a man and I vouch otherwise.
........

Bully the other boy
else...
just play with a toy
solitary.....a *****.

You are born with a member,
Now, my goodness,
prove to be better
than your female opposite number;
An impossible task,
for no gender
is exclusively first-class.

Prove your chivalry;
find a nice young lady
or carry some forbidden
infamous label.

Hide your malaise,
pretend to be at ease,
do not brood,
or be doomed
as a sentimental fool.

Always be okay alone
wherever you are
whatever you are...
sickly or strong.

Feel guilty.
After all, all social malady
is solely your responsibility.

You are just the "unfair ***"
...an ugly accumulation
of grossly vile testosterone,
no match for the noble progesterone.

My unfortunate friend, do you see…
That radical crowd....so elite?
That is the "fair-***",
not ye.....not ye.

Apart from a backbreaking childbirth,
most other dangerous or physically stressful work
is a man's traditional berth.

Even the macrocosm
has been a scrooge,
depriving him
from the possibility of motherhood;
...the sensational miracle of natural creation.

Is man really free...?

VI

THE SLOG DOG

But yes,
as my good friend said,
there still remains
a thin little thread
of fragmentary credence,
hanging like a dire dog-collar.

It says:
Man is a two-timing slog-dog;
unfaithful to many
but loyal to love,
wagging the tail
for his lovely suffragette dove.

She can heap
his eating bowl
with puppy-love chow
and he will be forever hers.

(Zion Saga, Part 3)

The old man stood on a mountaintop surveying all he could see
The young man beside him looked into his eyes, yellow with age
You will go into this future land of Kings and a Queen, said the sage
My Lord says I will inherit the dirt here, not the paradise in front of me

But you are our leader, savior of our people, bringer of our laws
Is it not right that you would bring us here, into our promised land
of milk and honey, of peace and prosperity, of G-d's open hand?
You fought your weakness at the Bush, you fought for Zion's cause

You used your powerful staff to mesmerize the Pharaoh's magicians
Your faith in God was evident as you cast it's spell and ate the rods
of the Egyptian Ruler's best; and when he still would not listen, G-d's
Wrath touched Pharaoh's officials but touched not the land of Goshen

So many adventures among even a rich history before us, impelled
you to set down these elaborate tales of miracles for the Chosen Few
Those with the minds for understanding and the right to know, too
They'll see this sacred knowledge you have written; I'll protect it well

Farewell, old friend and mentor, you have led us to the promised land
We have been borne out of a rabble of slaves into a blessed nation
You, our leader, stay if you must, but new leaders, Zion may shun
I fear we may collapse without you, and return to acts G-d has banned

And one more thing, do me a small yet important favor, please
Write down everything we talked about here this afternoon
Just scribble it down anywhere in here, or the margins will do
For I will not write, and since there's just me and you ....

{it does take a half hour to read, I timed it.}

Pythagorian permission, Poet, today viz.
five years ago, auto-did-actical,
the output arrogance,
self categorization
accept the role, be a finger, or a toe,
be a knee or an elbow, chose a position,
take it
make it your part in reality function
as if it all just happens
on
accident,
you just happened along…
as though saying show, and showing so,
is the same as saying so, and saying see…
demon-stratem ****
miracles of crowd perception, everybody
look this way, look away, look away
Dix-ai 'da swanee, I tell you, I saw…
Land o'Goshen, locust free. I swanee…

Did you ever, even once, work dawn to dusk,
to pick the cotton before the rain?
You'd need to be born before 1954, I'd reckon;
to have ever pulled a cotton sack
any where in North America.
You can hand-pick about 20 plants in 10 minutes while it takes a cotton picker about 30 seconds to pick up to 1,200 plants. Ai knows.

-- good morning, mustabin--
Probable propitious auspices
- evening the occasional heaps
- sun's light blending peachy huey

Phrygian gardens had song birds, I bet.
Bluebirds, in season, certainly good,
expecting miracles, as farmers
expect rains and harvests and
no blights or bugs or birds or fires
or frosts too soon in the sugaring cycle.
For citrus, not maples, frost some years
meant no Christmas, if you know the sense.
--- we had beggars come to our door
on Christmas Day,
their car broke down, and something
told them, the people inside my house
would help… we were three doors down
from a Jehovah's witness church,
but we had so much, and those kids,
and their mom,
coulda been my mom, had things
gone another way, in the soul selling.

To observe the future from 1950,
are we not
made winners if by now we are not in prison?

Rabble, eh, my equal rank, common-sensewise,
I was once a dear friend of an angel, as real
as any ever to bring another bit of good news.

My messenger told me to say plainly what I see.
Habakkuk Habits invoked a disglosalialacical spell
Aha. If luck were not a factor at the edged abyss,
hiss steamsudden
Coolant ego '
idden agendas, owning the energy,
euphemism
for owning the earth's produce.

Imagining a representation of truth,
as a mortal, a spirit embodied, held out
for grasping fingers
to find handles,
or spikey burrs for tangled locks…
-----------
Examined my selves
for an empathetic one,
I heard Absalom swinging in the tree…
I found no functioning, pathos perceived
is as near as one could come, feeling pain,

awareness, pain at being made to pay attention
to the replaying trainwrecks from fifty years ago.
No.
No, three thousand years ago, really, that long ago
and no updates on Wisdom receptivity?

Life in logos, mere words living in lettered lines
and rows, columns and pages and sections and such.
There are no sacred secret rites.
The snake can take your life, or tickle your soul.

Logical steps lead from one word to the next,
with 151 pre-positioning aiming words,
words that take and hold objects,
to and fro upon a time.

Distance diminishing day dopplering toward us,
the experience bound by galaxy level gravity,

massive messaging apparatus
Nachrichtenübermittlungsgerät zending oud a tingtingting
strumming all the oud's strings in theory.
Would you prefer to have a day in touch
or to have a day out of touch, floating, drifting through
the halls of power, inner sanctum, towers atop slagheaps
of holyshitchewdonotwannaknow, but do, do undoubtedly
know.

Original disconnect. Aware become, conscience ****** eve,
goodness found hell inventing just knowing love most needed
opens possibility quickly ready searched truth uni versal xanex zone. Calming. Sigh, and listen,
where I live there are
still war planes passing over my head, practicing.

Just in case, Semper fi. Charge the fuel.

Pilot training in the real Chocolate Mountains,
so backwash sunset red this time of day…

A brain, already capable of completing
ambitious intelligent coded construction processes

to go, to yield, to go about getting around orders
intuited easily entreated,
with little need
for the power
to punish the cowardly shirker of war duty…

to empty space, tzimtzim on a human scale,
as when the messaging systems deployed metaphors.
Empty vessles, not a few.
Mental focus hearth felt hooks, catch your attention

Red herring and black swans and autistic savants, all
attract attention and something
more rare, a daring
to know why luck seems such a powerful factor.
Curiosity before knowledge they say.
Whatsoever we agree. Eh?
Religions of billions, or two, just me and you, we
believe for a second that eternity is ever right after
ever before, and we exist in the interim, and not before.

Ever, in the scriptural universal sense…
make up your mindshare…
ok.
Mindtimespace, point grid riddled
with holes.
Perspectives on history,
recent history, edging bets
most losers never knew they made,

when a choice is made,
according to the ruling stories,
despite the constant compute refuting,
sneaking
suspicion
sin, lying at the door, did you notice?

If money can fix it, then it is not a problem.
So said the grandson of the Mormon Pioneer
who laid legal real estate claim to raw Sedona.

The grandson of the mechanic, allowed, that so.
- stopped and thought, actuating a still mind,
- pondering, breathing soft, slow, gentle, easy
entreating a change to
to whom, eh, from the page, flat, word after word,
each defined between us, meaning, golden mean
curve to judge beauty by purpose design.

You have seen the curve, you know
what I mean is much along those lines.

Chances are good, we say without thinking,
feeling kinda lucky, a post anxiety high, per haps;
any
way. One day, to a mortal is a measurable span,
and in America, wasting mortal lives
with republic guardians
of the laws enforcing peace
within Belair and Hillcrest regions of Athens…
{L.A. as portrayed the city of messaging mediums}
and the near suburbs, for the managers of the help.
-Leaping millennia in a single second thought
it is Autumn, 2023…

At the scattered outermost edges of urban sprawl,
there remains a kind of creative ifity, an absense
of civil strife, a kind of pollen in the wind, as change,
on cosmic seasonal suggestion that we think long
co-gnosis, sensing augmentalated wedoms, stretching
fi, the idea,
the fi in fiduciary and Semper Fi, and confidence.
Tuning to middle c, wait and see, foe from Phrygia
drummed response, thump thump thrum.

Shofar sounding afar off, listen, listen, hear
the babies, always, babies, after bombs, in the tents
the babies always activate auto **** alert, and feel
terror, the actual mind state occupied by the prisoners
in poverty, every where.

Entertain my brain. Hold my attention to gain,
acquiescence, necience, recognizing your best self,
there's the old tongue in cheek joke, male bond humor.
Same crude pleasure pursuant patriarchal hierarchy.

By royal order, presidential decree and papal bull,

the powers opposing the light of holy truth, persist.
All subjects under the common global order, obey or
else, we disagree with basic gravity and Pareto distributions.

Where the feebleness of mind is first discerned,
was once the local village or shire, cluster of cousins
and immigrant help's children who - how you say, see
themselves being a baker, when they play patty cake, see
or being a maker of clay vessles for holding many things,

see, we make up our own minds, then ideas take over.

Entertain me, show me people involved in drama, over
nothing. ***, drugs, rockandroll, when did the music die?

We could calm the world, with a Coke®
it's the re-al thing, al-ways a ways away re
ality with you and me on the run down to Rosarita
inland route from Jacumba, around the fence,

Singing at the top of our lungs, IT’S THE REEE AL THING
baby.
Look away from the skinny moon.
These bodies preserve life on earth,
and signal nonsense when aiming at stars, however
considering the heavens, far from the glare of cities,

even then, naked eye, I was told, however
I fact checked with my Ai assisting intelligence,
Egypt had not known the Dog star binary.
So this is true:
ChatGPT
The ancient Egyptians believed that the star Sirius,
also known as Sothis, was associated
with the goddess Isis and had significant importance
in their religious beliefs and calendar system.
They believed that the rising of Sirius
in the pre-dawn sky,
which occurred annually around July,
marked the beginning of the Nile flood
and the start of the agricultural year.
The Egyptians did not believe that Sirius was a three-star system.
- last line is all I asked, all the rest, ah, doubblingentendrills,
- all the rest of time we have to spend enjoying hell,
- from some perspectives, this is currently hell, no other.

Thieves of detail truth precepts, lurk,
at this line the author activated prayer circuits,
to take angst
and spin it into genuine umph up
from the base mind level,
low as a mind of any kind can go,
to the core of all emotion.

Dead center initial gravity. First sequence ex nihilo, what
do you know?.. o o psci daisy, just dropped the baby,
baby
can't you hear me crying, baby-love. Blurplepeopleeater,
lyin' all the time, you ain't never caught a rabbit,
and you ain't no friend of mine…

Take us to the danger zone, flyin' all the time,
ease our feeble minds and give us good service

Action movies, make us squirm, who has time for this,
we mostly all do, it seems,
seems, seems unreal really unreal, dream-like,
entrancement, fashion alert, attuned to degrees of in,
and out, up and down, round this way, square this way,
amphoras fit snug, round jugs
in square grids, leaning
into the curve
of greater vessles, trading knowledge
for knowledge,
with a few side realities, professional
courtesies, judgement calls, authorized executive acts,

I declare… I'drather doubt I know what you know,
than doubt that you do not doubt that you know.

Voltaire… defend to the death your right to say you know.
Faith is your evidence, we all suppose, spiritual warfare
is proven by the lie that says Satan is the deceiver.

Wait. What did I say, have I come this far and none
know… wait, those poor souls cold calling on solar leads,
gees, I'm sorry you are so used, really, I feel for you, your
job *****, as they say.
In realized life as a grown up in the system;
got a job, cutcherhair, dopplering by as I manifest, as real
one of the hitchhiking pests, depicted as vermin
on a poster displayed at the Greyhound station,
nearest to Route 66 in San Bernardino, March, '70.

Anchor links, ancient landmarks, moments when pivots
occur, and as often as not, acute reversals widen with use,
dull witted boys with instant anger output honed to fine edge,
grow dull in three seasons, few hold the line on the fourth fight.

Here, in cyberspace, the information super highway,
and the solid state circuitry to deal with mean free ways,
in quarkish inverse infinity space, deep from any now,
in time thought since once,
you did it,
you passed understanding. Got an A.

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Priesthood...LionQuest

COUCH ALLENS
12/13/17
to samikoku
Priesthood LionQuest…

Ultra-Gifted…New tonques audible

Utterances to an Expected EnD; Under a deserving

PRAISE…; Quantifying  of every deposits=SovereignPRODUCTS

….;7SPIRITCHANTS….;SQUAD-IN-ARKCORPOR­ATION MERCHANDISE THE SPIRITPROGRAMS IN THE INVOCATION

INSIGHTS-IQ TITHING EXPLOITS….SURPLUSINTERESTS

….THE FAITH RENDERING DECENT

….MENUINNOVATION THE PRIORITY OF MANY EXPERTISE

…PILGRIMSFACES REPLACING-ISSUES APPLAUDS.

Visibly decorated in the confronts overwhelming-nutrient…;

STRONGGOD Proven translation into HEAVENSBUOTANCY…

Recurring “Genetic-Going’ in the reality PUSHDIVINITY…: Unveiling

The universality of discipleship mightily in the EMBODIMENT OF

GODLY “Stocks-Attributes” The voted all virtues votes at infancy of

REDEPOSITES TAMED EXCELLENCIES OF AUDIBLEDOUBLE OATHS…;Quantifying believers deposition of interpretations…;Aided in the all “Potential-Pattern-Potency’ The Ego 9 SPIRITPROOF/ SailingColors/ ViSIONANALYSIS/ RHEMA REACHING ******/ DEEPNUGGING DISCOVERIES IN THE INDISPENSABLE TESTIMONIAL…;Reception rescues Advisory in GOSPELTHRILL

CHOSEN THE CORRELATIVE-FORCES…;RESOUNDING THE GOSHEN

CONTINUUM/ YIELDING INCREASESCREATE….;

BOSS-BREATHES  PREVALENCE....'


YOUR  HEAVENS ACCUMULATION-GUIDANCE,



SESSIONS  'STAFF' A WHOLE  ROYALTY CROWN CREST:

email : believingvirtue@gmail.com

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Pine embellished by Cassiopeia arched over prone morning.  Meadowlark laughed, cougars stalked shadows, crow deputies.  Bent creek carried silt of spring, sigh of cedar.  Cold mist, feathered cloak marked him of eagle and raven.  He took part night, river’s depth in bent cedar boxes along grease trails over walls called cordillera.  Distantly ships put into several bays.  Raven gave up tricking salmon people, at Rose Spit called out first, men.  Who had invented dance now demanded war.  What speech there was was lament. Undone morning weeps bloodied.   Anger-melted gold fills insatiable mouths, shames what night cannot hide.  No more hand set to house front, no more ashlar of jasper. Night casts her spears, we have not even time to die.  Flee hands which reach from river, children ghost small starving birds.  Rejoice in crow’s carrion cruelty, Owl devour those we cannot smother in our desperate escape.
                               Look up beaten, complaining, supreme.  Reconstruction begins in this torpor, a boredom purring heart cannot abolish.  Inebriated with the impossible, go past mission outpost’s Gide and a Kempis to the lineage house of men.  Hegel whispers I never did believe.  Attar extend gender-inflected zero.  In the wrong season glisten with sugary neoprene. Belong to at least two countries, Land of Goshen sours.  Break into Quechua, haunt cruel Saturdays, look for amigo.  Wheat field marries into lion’s eye.  Ayacucho fanfares enclose the wind.  White-breasted, black-winged, displace requiem.  Recover lost chives, cottonwood’s inerrant perfume, shooting stars on the other side of the river. When mountain burns, Eyes-Are-In-Festival yields turquoise.  Let him palmer drink iris dry.  Sky falls, camas blooms, then this morning white tail flicker in low aspen, chickadee dee dee dee, chickadee dee dee dee.