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Dan Filcek Apr 2015
Electromagnetism and electrochemistry added to the expanse of erudition.
Central calculations comprised of charged consecration
Diamagnetism and also electrolysis
Took in little of the ritual pedagogy
Most influential of archaic scientists.

The base for the conceptualization of the dynamic sphere.
Introduced the physics of ensconced enthrallment
Affecting rays of light
To say nothing of the underlying relationships there
Two phenomena, both similarly discovered

Inventions: Electromagnetic induction, diamagnetism, and the laws of electrolysis.
the form of electromagnetic rotary devices
Foundation of electric motors
Truly technology was largely due to his effort
Electricity became practical for use

Scientific knowledge increased: investigating as an alchemist, discovered benzene.
Inventor of Clathrate hydrate of chlorine,
In its early form
the system of oxidation numbers, and the burner
Popularized terminology such as anode, cathode

Ultimately became the first and foremost, ultimate, and respected .
Chemistry Professor at the Institution
Position of a lifetime
He was an excellent experimentalist of conveyed ideas
Mathematical abilities in simple language  

His powers did also extend as far as trigonometry.
Took any but the simplest algebra
And worked around it
And also summarized it in sets of equations
The basis of modern theories
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. source - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Faraday
Jackie Mead Dec 2017
Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie lived a regal life.

Slaying dragons and battling witches by day, monsters and zombies by night.

Each day brought adventures new, trips on boats and to the zoo.

One particular day when feeling bored, Prince Simon decided to explore.

Down to the basement, he slowly sneaked, quietly to take a peek.  New adventures he did seek.  
Simon decided to explore.
A rickety old wardrobe he did find and suddenly an adventure sprang to mind

Searching in the wardrobe what do you think he found…

“Come on Prince Jason, Princess Sophie too, come into the wardrobe and look what I have found
A snow globe, all beautiful and round”, “shake it Princess Sophie what do you see a festive setting with us three.”

Climb into the wardrobe pull your dress in tight, we are about to take flight.
Into the wardrobe all three did climb, and soon the wardrobe started to rock and shake, getting higher and higher and faster and faster it suddenly left the ground.

“Where are we going” shouted Princess Sophie, “destination unknown” said Prince Simon, “no change of clothes” Prince Jason asked, “not this time” said Prince Simon, “we are fine as we are, I’m not sure if were going that far”.

Soon enough the trip had ended, and the wardrobe landed on the floor, Prince Simon, Prince Jason & Princess Sophie opened the door and set off to explore.

This new land they had found, had lots of white snow all over the ground and white snow in all the trees.
Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie fell to their knees, delighted to see such a lot of snow they started to make snowballs and began to throw them at each other, laughing and wheezing with delight, they took aim and threw with all their might.
30mins later and wet through they weren’t sure where they had landed or what they had come to do.

They began to start looking around when on the floor Prince Jason found some footprints that looked quite small, not as big as horse or as small as a mouse, Prince Jason thought they belonged to a reindeer, all three of them began to cheer.

They set off following the small footprints until they found themselves on top of a small hill looking down the hill they could see a Fairyland Grotto, sparkling and white a sheer picture of pure delight.
They looked around to see if they could find a map, which would show where all the stalls were at.

Princess Sophie was the first to shout, “let’s take a tumble down the hill and check under the mat of the first Chalet to see if that is where the map is at”

All three agreed and tumbling to their bellies did roly poly down the hill, the first to come to a standstill was Prince Simon who looked under the mat and found the map was exactly where they'd thought it was at.

Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie looked excitedly, the very first stop was at the Toy Factory.

Situated to their left they entered the doors very slowly, then took a deep breath as they did see hundreds of Elves making toys in all their glory.
Working hard to make toys of wood and of metal too, from board games to cars, puzzles to bikes the Princes and Princess could not believe their eyes.
The Elves were working very fast and all the toys they made were sure to last.
The Elves were delighted to have company and agreed to stop and have a cup of tea, with all three.
Cups of tea and plates of cakes, mince pies and scones were soon assembled, and hurriedly eaten. The children were delighted to be having tea with the Elves, couldn’t help themselves but ask, do you know if we three are on the Good List or the Naughty?

Ha! Ha! Said the Elves wouldn’t you like to know but we still have several weeks to go.
It isn’t until the last minute the decision is made, so Santa asks that you are good all year round and not just today.

Once tea was over the Elves did say that they could move on to the next stop which was to groom the reindeers, feed them too and clean the stable of their smelly poo.

The children laughed and giggled they really were excited they exited the Toy Factory and went next door, the reindeers were in a stable and the children started to explore.
They were joined by the Head Groomsman a very elderly Elf who had a long white beard, moustache and hair and a pointed hat upon his head.

Prince Jason asked the Groomsman if they “could feed the reindeers please?” Princess Sophie was so excited she started to shout and wheeze “Please Mr Groomsman, Please?” “Can we feed the reindeer a carrot and some milk too? I don’t mind if I have to clean up his smelly poo”

Prince Jason and Prince Simon were not too sure and began to walk backwards towards the door, ready to make their escape should it occur that they had to clean the stables for the reindeers.

Mr Groomsman began to laugh, his belly began to shake, “it is OK young children please come in, you can feed the reindeers a carrot and milk, then brush them clean, you don’t need to clean up anything else, that is the work of the younger Elves”

The children were delighted and ran into the stables, first the Head Groomsman gave them a brush and showed them how to groom.
Next the children gave each of the reindeer a carrot and saucer of milk, smoothed the reindeer some more then the Head Groomsman said, “I hear that the three of you are expected next door, where Santa awaits to hear your list, don’t keep him waiting you do not want to miss the chance to speak” “Today will be the last day for a while, as he is working hard to bring a smile to every child’s face on Christmas Day”.

“A few rules before you go:
“Talk quietly and real slow, if you talk too fast or begin to shout you will not make sense and then you may miss out.
“Ask for Toys or Books or sweets, maybe socks for your feet but do not ask to solve world peace, Santa is always working on this, but it is very hard as you can imagine and takes more than one person.”
Ask for things for your mummy and daddy, your brother and sister, thinking of others is a good trait and will please Santa, now run along be good children and don't be late”
One last thing before you go Rudolph is looking forward to meeting you today, but his Red Nose is poorly and won’t come out to play, so please don’t tease or laugh or wheeze when Rudolph Nose does not come shiny and bright “

The children promised the Head Groomsman they would behave, said farewell and went on their way.

Next door to the Stable Hut resided Santa’s hut before they knocked on the door Prince Simon looked at Prince Jason and Princess Sophie and began to implore “let’s think about what we are going to ask, we don’t want to fail this task”

The three children stopped and put their heads together and slowly they began to say which each thought would be a nice surprise for their Parents to open on Christmas Day.

Prince Simon said, “for Mummy that’s easy she likes dressing up a new scarf and gloves to match her coat”
Prince Jason declared “for Daddy a book or cd for the car”
Princes Sophie sighed and said, “for Granny and Nanny a new duvet for their beds”

All three agreed it was a good list, Prince Simon stepped up to knock on the door.
Slowly the door opened and revealed the room inside. Santa was sat on a chair with Rudolph by his side.
“Welcome, welcome, children” Santa cried, “come in, come in don’t be shy, don't stand there  it’s awfully cold outside”.
The children entered and dutifully closed the door, waiting patiently for Santa to speak.
Santa called them by their names and asked if they had a special gift they would like on Christmas day.  
The children became quite shy and uncertain what to say.
Again, Prince Simon, Prince Jason and Princess Sophie put their heads together to agree what would be best when Santa laughed and said, “I was only putting you to the test”
Of course, I know what each of you would like but it depends on whether you’ve been Good or Bad
The children started to pull a face and looked very Sad, they weren’t sure if they had behaved well enough throughout the year.

Santa decided to put them out of their misery turned to each of them and said:

Prince Simon – you have attended school every day you could, you’ve completed your Maths Homework, made a book rack out of wood and in addition your Teacher has been pleased to say that you are cheerful every day.  

Prince Jason – you too have attended school every day that you could, you’ve excelled in English and Sports.
Your Teacher is delighted to have you in her class and you can easily cheer everyone up with one of your hearty laughs.

Princess Sophie – finally you have attended school every day excel in English and Ballet
Your Teacher is happy to have you in her class and trusts you to help new pupils orient their way around the school on their first day.

These are very good reports, but we give the final say to your Parents, so let’s see what they have to say:

Prince Simon – our eldest son makes us very proud he studies heartily and never is too loud.  
He looks after his brother and sister and includes them in his fun, he really is a very well-behaved number one son.

Prince Jason – our middle child is fun to be around, he never gets too angry, always makes his bed and doesn’t let his intelligence go to his head.
He takes his studies at school seriously and hands his work in on time, he really is a well-behaved middle child.

Princess Sophie – our youngest child, has a little bit of wild but not too much, just enough to keep us on our toes that is for sure, she makes friends easily and always has a smile for everyone to see. she really is a well behaved youngest child.


Santa sighed, “I wished all children had these same reports, for certain if you do nothing naughty in the next 10 days your names will be on the Good List come Christmas Day”.

The three children cheered and wanted to ask what presents Santa had in mind but decided to decline, the three children decided to wait and be surprised.

All this time Rudolph had sat quietly by Santa’s side not saying a word and trying not to look at the children he really didn’t want to be noticed or heard, he wasn’t feeling right, his usually very Red nose did not come shiny and bright.
Princess Sophie noticed him out of the corner of her eye, ran to kneel by his side and put her hand around his neck lovingly declared “You are our very favourite reindeer”  
The Two Princes joined Princess Sophie and sighed and said “Rudolph have no fear that your nose is not Red at this time of year, there’s ten days to go before your nose is required to light up the way for Santa on Christmas Day”
If you rest and hydrate it is not too late and your nose will be right and shiny and bright for Santa on Christmas Eve night”

Rudolph was delighted and gave the children a nudge and a sloppy kiss to their ears, all three children giggled sillily.

“Now, now”, Santa said, “you have been gone a long time, you really should return home, your Mummy will be worried about you and that will never do”

They climbed into the rocket and, set the destination to their home not quite a million miles below.
As they approached their home, the roof started to open wide and the rocket began to slow, the ride was nearly over they did not have far to go.
Very soon the wardrobe landed safely on the floor, the children were exhausted and ran to open the door; out they fell full of excitement and looking for their mummy, The Queen.
Princess Sophie ran out first excitedly shouting “Mummy you never guess where we have been, we’ve been to Lapland to See Santa’s Hut and Rudolphs Nose which did not light and a Head Groomsman who was a real delight, plus all the Elves took tea with us too, we really did have fun, can we go again next year”.
“Slow down” Mummy smiled and said, “it’s getting late, it’s almost time for bed”.
If you run along to your room, get dressed for bed and clean your teeth, I will be along in a while to read you a story and you can tell me all about your trip to Lapland today, I can’t wait to hear what you all have to say”
Mummy closed the door and said “Good Night sweet children, sleep tight, say your wishes with all of your might, may all your wishes and dreams come true for you on Christmas Day”
A big thank you if you read this to the end, I hope you enjoy this seasonal story, it's a work in progress but let me know what you think.
Merry Christmas everyone ☓
Lora Lee Jan 2018
There is a storm
gathering in
            my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
          knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
           curl into
                      smoky
                 rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
                          deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
           to heavy rains
                    that liquefy
                           my desert
                 hydrate my
           bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips
All these emotions move in waves
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6TP-M3dKcY
Left Foot Poet Nov 2017
for the 111 yr. old young lady from Mars
<•>

fluids in, fluids out  

wake up at midnight, lips, throat, even eyes, California Death Valley parched, white crusted-stuck together,
it takes Poland Spring water from the Northeast to unlock the throat, ****** not sipped, from a plastic gourd  the chilling wetness slap to the body and brain screams metaphor, poem in there somewhere,

so what if it's spat-past midnight,
isn't this one of those soul-criticality's,
staying hydrated, (is) disco staying alive  

make sense to you?
the older I get, thirstier I am, could be I'm drying/dying out from the inside out,  
doctors clueless, but then again they don't reveal all they see out of poetic professional courtesy and they are tired of
yeah yeah yeah,
my professional courtesy answer to their  dire warnings repetitious  

tonight tho the metaphor runs strong like a mountain stream,
a Mt. Marcy beginning trickle growing into a mighty Hudson,
and the driving urge to drink, simple replenishment, birth fluid  
is strong transformed into words

water is words, the water is wide, the poems hydrate what's left on the inside, and the metaphor transforms itself again

water is words, words are water,  
the difference huge, the difference minuscule,
both pour, both refresh like a mother's body fluids,
all for one, one for all, and as closing time grows nigh,
staying-hydrated is primate

place a new cold bottle in readiness for my
3 o'clock feeding
11/14/17 12:04am
parched tongue
please
mister
cola
carmex
these cracked lips
it's time
to hydrate
this carbo
bi-
sickling
through vacant streets
for a cure
my tummy
is like this town
a desiccant cactus
it's 12 a.m.
in stockton
12 amens
spew
from dry desert gums
i sea
liquor store
icee
soda
this is
no mirage
i found
atlantis
at the bottom
of a coke bottle

peddling back home
         peddling
                 peddling
stop
I dropped


My holy grail
He stops
Is he thirsty?
He pulls knife
Like a sleeved playing card
“give me your ****”
Poor minus poor
0-0
=0
Or X0
After he cheapshots me
Fist meet face
Face meet fist
obliged
Profit
10 cents
Gym membership
Fuzzy lint *****
But not my soda
Or my sweat
Or my tears
Or my blood
It’s time
To hydrate
Damaré M Jul 2013
Dear Arjana,
Isis told me that you left your paradise for love in disguise 
Camouflage love 
Erroneous love 
Inaccurate love 
Artificial love 
Mimic love 
Man-made love 
...
Substitute love
...
I can't trust the "fact" that you wanna desert me only to hydrate a man who's life is so sparse with affection 
Can't you tell by how devoid his life is of women? 
He can't storm into your life and bring forth lush 
He can't be your sunshine and make you feel tropic 
He can't have you sprung and spring you out of your glacial phase 
...Smh 
Bottom line Arjana babe 
Is that he cannot draw the line between your north and south poles where it's typically warm when I'm around and rock your equator wild as a 200 miles per hour cyclone Lol!!!
...
He just can't 
And I could 
So why do you even give G-Gwa-Gwala a chance? 
However you say his name! 
You need to come back home to your paradise 
Before you end up a dystopian 
Please reply =-|
Sincerely Masika "Zola" Oluchi
Name meanings:
Arjana- Paradise
Isis- goddess
Gwala- coward
Masika "Zola" Oluchi- one who was born during a monsoon "to love" work of god
Vernarth says: "Give me some milk, and I will be the son of Zeus, perhaps as a means in everything and not a whole of which I never thought...!"

Wonthelimar from the Boedromion brought the arrows that Zefian brought, they brought the sleeping bodies of winter to the lap of the spring Boedromion, crossing the lines from spring to winter in the cycle that went directly to the Mercurial Ambrosia of the Cinnabar. Were they discreet detached arrows that he had thrown into the sky and did not return? but if in the rooms, and in the animalism stages that made the duty of rejoicing at the ****** of the Telesterion.  Wonthelimar being once more re-looted, before starting the works of the temple of the Megaron Áullos Kósmos, he returns to the cavern of Chauvet Wonthelimar. It distanced itself from the contravention of Apollo and Artemis towards an olive tree, originating in the arrows of Zefian, to mark the new cardinal points of the zenith, starting with the first two arrows that are placed in the bowstring, each one belonging to trajectories from north to south and the other two that were again violated with the arc of the stormy East, to launch the arrows from east-west with limits of southern magnetism. He carried in his belongings "The Iberian Rings", which would be the migration to the cardinals and points where the Megaron of Vernarth would be exactly, arguing that the phalanges of Zefian would be ordered in Syntropia and organic chaos in Patmos, Pythagorean proportions would be made, in essences of numbers that idly advanced in the temporal steps of Wonthelimar that mobile became of religious arrows and of the Mercurial Ambrosia of the Cinnabar, to help him with the most insightful points of the Constellation of Capricornus.  Zefian's tendency was one of evident delight after the bowstring being pulled, for phantasmagoric existence; presuming that where they fell would be the beginning of the storms that would originate the Állos Kósmos Megarón, for late courts imposed from a cosmos, which was directed by committing itself to its will and from a doubtful Vestal god advocating to associate with hospitable Canephores, such as Vestal Virgins of Roman bilocation, and quantum parapsychology of the dreaded in-between-tale alive that boils back in the arrows that had not yet fallen, and did not know their whereabouts. Like plates or serial hosts that were evoked from where the origin of the Universe was broken, to open towards the Duoverso contravened organic, vigorous and in anti-scorch to the divine celestial origin as a parameter of *****-ovule, rather in eonic instances in the fireplace of Hestia, running in eternities to vast volumes of light-years.

From the medrones that grow in the Nyons massifs, the Seven Ibic Rings were established.

Ibic 1: "The first was from the initiation of Wonthelimar and brought purity, for all who needed him and were visiting in the dark, and then he would find the light when he left the cave alive if he was accepted."
Ibic 2:” He was guided by Vlad Strigoi in the priesthood center on his shelves with the Chiroptera, and in excess of the mercurial ambrosia for the purpose of energizing the Tsambika Cinnabar.  Having all the protocol of Transylvania and eternity with the waters of Antiphon Benedicts”.
Ibic 3: "From the Eygues, the waters evaporated for healings of the tormented initiatory processes of raising the four Arrows of Zefian, to indicate the zenith of the Megaron."
Ibic 4: “This ring was from the antlers of Wonthelimar, here they wore the oikos or threads of Gold from Orphi, for the Himation and investiture to anoint the body of Vernarth, bringing the aerial atmospheres of the Alps and Ida as a complement to Mycenae- Aldaine ”.
Ibic 5: "This piece of metal speaks of the fifth plasmic element that would contract the universe and the Hyperdisis galaxy, to elevate it to Vernarth's neurological and Duoversal hyper brain twinned to the Mashiach."
Ibic 6: "It is the sixth piece of crowns of Kafersesuh, bringing the pollinations of the Lepidoptera, for the central stage of the investiture under the gloom of Hellenika and Theoskepasti."
Ibic 7: “It is the grave voice of the Cinnabar and the Antiphon Benedictus, together with the Lenten fast of all the hoarse voices, which inquire about the true phoneme and photon of divine mass light, to build the Áullos Kósmos. From here the purification will go up in synchrony through the final growth medron, up to the millimeter shoulder of the square meters assembly, which will illustrate the Megaron´s Acrotera  "

Ellipsis - Parapsychological Regression Marielle Quentinnais year of the Lord 1617

Wonthelimar was transmigrating to Chauvet, but the Pontias wind carried him from Nyons to Avignon, encountering filigree by Raymond Bragasse; a Former Dominican priest of Cathar descent. He always drenched himself in the estuaries of the Rhone, which came from the Saint Gotthard massif; being master and lord of dreams and of the breaking curses of the despicable administrators of the house of God, and of the Antipopes in Avignon.
Wonthelimar heard voices from some parapets babbling in the parapsychological regression of Vetnarth, on August 4, 1617, when Klauss Ritkke was found cleaning the main stained glass window; he heard heated dialogues between a Friar and a Gentleman, who was once an assistant to the clergy. Klauss could come closer and hear his conversation more clearly, until Friar Andrés, muttering, demanded indulgence from Raymond Bragasse, one or the other.

Raymond Bragasse Says: “My lord Wonthelimar; what grace has brought us together here in the middle of the Pontias, between hopes and reforms!”

Wonthelimar responds: "Your flight is a spell of the grace of André Panguiette, who will find us again. How many times with hope I fought to reform you Raymond... Oh Virga ac Diadema  sed Diabolus...!! Oh, ****** the devil smiled...!!

Raymond replies: “It is a major question to live if in something I have failed, take me to the sulfurous emanations of Hell. But my faith lies moldy at the bottom of the sea, a sacred myth of my truth..., and of my beloved Marielle...! There are fifteen thousand demons that possess my body... fifteen thousand demons for attacking the sacred mystery of the Holy Rosary...! Marielle was my light, my Edenic Eve, an admirable land. Now, she is my spell, my stubbornness or my constant sharp bleeding, without knowing where it has to pass...? I still remember that night, that gloomy night, renouncing my final vows of faith and the consecration of my soul. I broke my ties and ecclesiastical chores, all for Marielle, a noble descendant of the Quentinnais. I would never believe such regret in my destiny. I did love her, but her misfortune knew me. When I approached the edge of her house that night, I entered through the kitchen window. All were asleep, except for the albiceleste reflection of the last death throes of the deadly round of Quentinnais Mansion. I was thinking of rescuing her and saving something from those cheeks kissed by me, but her heart disease dried up his heart and her lungs. It is still possible to recall the last roses that I brought into her hands, they danced with her along with the hymn and the old dirge of the sleight of hand made by the monk, along with the cartomancy plays settling the minute of taking her into darkness, with her beautiful bare feet. What a pain, I could not rescue her from her, and death was dispossessing her! Her parents hated the mere fact of having her heart ruled by an impious priest, so I turned to the pagan and dark gods, to heal Marielle, and her heart to transplant it for mine. Since that day, I continue to burn in a polysatanic hell, to take out the little breath of goodness, and seize the transparent liquids that plague her existence and her serene metallic Diadem..."

Friar André Panguiette upon learning that his great friend possessed by the Devil would fall into some endemic evil infection...; Evil endemic to his love, he crossed himself when he saw that he became a horrible being. The jumbled leaves in the garden were transformed into Bible sheets torn from their bindings and fillings, the wrinkled ***** Saints slid down their columns, the sky proclaimed hemorrhages and the wind oozed foul gases, which in the firmament sprouted in clots of clots on the Papal House of Avignon. Fray Andrés, threw the rosary on the neck of the possessed person, and asked the Demons who were they most afraid of...? The demons answered this question, screaming and falling vertically down the central nave... they went down and flew!

Wonthelimar induces: “From that moment, you and Marielle would cross their gazes closely and love each other. In the following minutes of Pentecost, the two of them went alone to sit on the bench on the banks of the blessed wind that caressed their profiles, as if plotting to unite one with the other. Raymond effusively kissed her; he drew her to him, believing he sensed an eventual and sacrilegious separation from her. This is how it happened when François Quentinnais surprised them...:

François Quentinnais: With this example, you have provoked my anger Marielle...! Hundreds of men like me would react like this when they saw my daughter in the arms of whom until recently, she was hugging God!

Marielle: Father, I beg you for mercy, Raymond of precept sent a letter renouncing his vows!

When the soul of Marielle was entrusted, Raymond escaped seconds before shattered, he did not tolerate the nonexistence of Marielle; vegetating rotten grass of the estuary, emerald swallowed by fire. In a purely inorganic state, Raymond walked away from the mansion, walked through the leaden mountains, and on the cruise he walked through the walnut trees in whose scarlet pods the intense cold of the esplanade howled. The almond trees cracked a baritone muezzin, which one day he wanted to go there, but could never reach the east. His beard reddened, his nails were like ram's horns, and his also reddish hair at the ends of it had black tulips. His clothes turned gray just like his eyebrows, and his breath smelled of nurse sewers of the black plague, the dry flow of his voice announced monosyllables, thus he purged his pain from town to town, from house to house, everyone quarreled with him, and then they were exasperated by kicking him out. Until in June 1617, caravans of people started from the southern town of Avignon, escaping the flames of angry soldiers of the crusades. The fleeting townspeople carried on their banners the inscription... INRI. On the other side, they carried the cross and a colorful coat of arms that in the lower corner said Siccidemy. Then, there Raymond opened his bruised eyes, unable to contain the recovered memory of him, between gunshots, screams, sobs, and screams, the hundreds of steps that were heard around him, led him to tear and save his life. In an instant of stillness, he found himself surrounded by people until one of them took him into his arms to hydrate his mouth. We are Albigensian, and you... Who are you?

Raymond replied: “I fled in search of a miracle that could save a beloved being. I used to call myself Raymond, now I don't know what name to go by. I fled, but I had to face the situation, even having acted behind the back of the Church”. An Albigensian says: “The clergy have also believed that our sect has acted behind the back of the Church. However, his powers and his government have registered absolutism within Christendom”. Another Albigensian says; “We seek the establishment of ancient Christianity, we deny the existence of purgatory, the importance of rituals, clerical organizations and the possession of goods by the clergy. And for this reason, we have been expelled from our lands, from our homes, our children have paid for the Sacred Inquisition, in the hands of those who one day... baptized with blessed water”.

It was on June 18, 1617, the Albigensian fugitives were besieged in Montlimar. The Argentine crosses gleamed like dogs eager to bite the enemy. The open-minded Albigensians gathered together with Luzbel, who floated on a calypsigenic cloud. Raymond and the others piled up essences in the fuels to start the pact, after this event François Quentinnais answered negatively, and strongly took her daughter by her hand, pulling her sharply to the float. The horses slip their hooves before the sloping pastures carpeted by tiny Calypso flowers; the mayoral pressed his thin lips, also raising his shoulders, so as not to hear the despotic cries of Monsieur François. As for Reverend Raymond, he could be seen crying silently, accompanied by late halos of the luminosity of the final and sad day. Sorrows and regrets dislodged his bones that underwent violent arthrosis, populating his body in a sedentary lifestyle and irritation. I myself say Wonthelimar, I am the one who carries Marielle's love in me, I am your Raymond. Remember that night that...: "When the monk retired to pray, you stormed the bedroom, and uttered Marielle..., Marielle:," wake up, in vain I fear to leave without your divine voice. Marielle, what do you have...? I don't think your father's impure will blind your eyes to not see me, or he ripped your sweet voice to not name me...? ".

The Albigenses resigned to the spell, their adherents had largely been reduced, only ten or twelve remained. That later they fled from Montelimar escaping to the west, crossing the enchanted Rhone. The Siccidemy troops mutilated the last demonized Albigensians; nothing would help for their lives, everyone would bleed except the group that fled with Raymond. For several days they wandered the Cevennes plateau, provisioned themselves in Montpellier, and arrived in Carcassonne on July 20, 1617. Little could they remain here, since the congregation of Santo Domingo, without distinction, attacked the population decimated by the crusaders? What a regrettable exodus for Raymond with his black flock fleeing from where his feet laid hope! Twenty-two days of bitter flight, and everywhere the crosses, until Raymond decides to separate and go back to Avignon. He takes a  sailboat off the shores of Narbonne in the middle of a stormy gray day, in his bitter journey he dreams of being born again and having Bethlehem as a lineage, on July 23 of the same year, he lands in the waters of Marseille. When he was discharged from the port, he undertook a light journey to Avignon, near Arles, thousands of fellow citizens started from the hosts of King Godfred of Bouillon, the nobles cooperated by revealing the mobs that gathered in the city, the Hussites, and the Waldensians; Iconoclast heretics, fighting fierce battles. The crusaders took the offensive and tried to prevent them from burning their sacred images, which had already been torn to pieces throughout Gaul. Raymond, distant, helped the most serious, he was afraid of being confused by one of them, it was better to hide in the Cathedral of Arles. Upon entering, he felt a dizzy ***** that shone timidly in the hands of his performer... it was a little girl who, when looking at him, named him Dionysus..., demi-god, save us! Raymond fell into a daze, and falling into a dream that told him of barbaric actions, with masked fellow citizens lying neutral in their gestures, and suddenly angels revealed to him that they were looting the pantheons of Avignon, to burn the rosaries of the saints. Bereaved in their graves, some Albigenses exhumed the bodies of relatives related to the Clergy.

Raymond was sweating his hands and forehead, he struggled to get to the Quentinnais mausoleum, straining his precognition, he crossed the interdepartmental courtyard, he continued to haunt the packed pyramidal cypress trees and suddenly a lion-faced him dealing with a snake; with the symbolic image of the Quentinnais. He saw the slab desecrated, on whose horizon his Beloved Marielle slept. His skin prickled... it was the Iconoclasts avenging their own, with strong breaths he squeezed his hand, wanting to wake up... so it happened, he got up pushing the crowds that were holding him back, but his strength was growing. He rode a roan steed, in three bridles that he gave him he flew towards Avignon; his mount seemed to be a hot air balloon that flew with great dynamism. Raymond in his own painful station would moan his hand, his eyes; his legs creaked like the legs of the Pegasus that carried him fast.

Ellipsis Second Sequence Mausoleum Quentinnais

Finally, he arrives in the second parapsychological sequence, noting that Avignon was in ashes, takes the reins and immediately goes to the Quentinnais mausoleum, upon arrival, he appreciates several Albigenses committing crimes, dismounts, and runs screaming towards the defilers; he faced them with stakes, some demonized had to cut their throats, arriving in time to defend the remains of Marielle. For long hours he was with her alone, thinking about what to do, Raymond knew that he could not revive her, so he had no more redress than to invoke Luzbel, who this time revealed her true and evil personality as ruler of the evil spirits.

Raymond: Dear Luzbel, millions of Canaanites looked up at the altitude representing you; today I will do the same from here and beyond the solid roof of the mausoleum! Bring Marielle to life, come and twist her cheeks, since without her! I have had to live all this to protect myself from suffering. Since Pentecost, he hadn't been physically close to her. Now I need her... well, I lynched her...! Beelzebub making him believe that she was Luzbel, ordered him to extract her heart!

Beelzebub: “In Montlimar, I saw volcano crests arrive in such failure of my envoys. But it will not be repeated, and for it to be so, I entrust you to take out the heart of your beloved and tear the eyes from her that saw your gaze. Then open your chest with this dagger, I will draw your blood and heart, to moisten the heart of your Marielle. And finally, I ask you to bring a lip to me to enchant her lips in lilies. "

Raymond: “opinion accepted... that's the way I'll do it!
Being dominated by the spell, Raymond abided by every step dictated by the supposed that Luzbel lived difficult moments since he was a good day, but so many thousands of years of living in darkness, and in the midst of punishment that violently changed his mind. Justo Raymond carried the body in his arms so that the ritual would culminate. Luzbel snatched his beloved from him and with laughter he vanished.

Beelzebub says Mortal fool! Don't you see that I am Beelzebub; chief of the evil spirits and the guide of the Albigenses, Hussites, and Waldensians? Never invoke me in the Mausoleums, here betrayal triumphs. Now a Quentinnais will be my image on earth, giving her the doubt of doing well for many centuries.

Beelzebub took his beloved away, leaving the rosary wrapped in soft tulle next to the scapular in his hands. Raymond cringed in pain, and in an act of madness scratched his face. Poor Raymond, he told himself...!  That in himself he found no reason to live. He left the mausoleum at dawn looking around every corner in case he saw Marielle lost in his sight since recently. He was exhausted; he remained after the confession that was delayed too much because the events that took place in the Pantheon, in a way pretended to be the events that Raymond inexhaustibly narrated. And in a way, he feared for his life at that time unknown, by the mouth of some hidden place they documented his bitter inability to do well, and that he would fall under Raymond's curse. At this moment, Raymond lay lying on the banks of the Pantheon, from that day on, he did not know about the days, he only existed at night and he did not socialize with anyone, his madness sowed hatred for everything sacred and infernal, he dealt with the Holy Rosary found a magical find, until one day a new one reached her ears; she was referring to some crusaders who had intervened in Jerusalem when it was invaded by Saladin. A certain Frederick Barbarossa was drowned in Sicily by..., "Wonthelimar", who with the Diadem of a woman Seized the island of Iconium. This was the other new one that enlivened his spirit. This greatly surprised the worn Raymond, suspecting that the kidnapper of his beloved might be in cahoots. And as the news continued to hear her, it was said that her sacred beliefs allowed her to continue undercover, in order to continue for a long time, even in the other attacked city that would be Nice. He signed to the limit, for centuries that will serve us in future generations…, suffocating the iconoclasts.

The poppies moved from north to south through the Provencal regions. The oceanic eastern Gods Makara's in tumultuous pyramidal ships descended legions and escorts, to aid Raymond's farewell at Nice. At twelve o'clock at night, the prophetic edict of the Lord would be fulfilled, here the last words of that chimerical episode were received, and he feared that until then a first descendant of Raymond; he became a statue in ignitions of the reborn underworld. The Diadem will be transport and refuge, as for Wonthelimar he said doubtfully…; I think he is nothing more than the deviant Beelzebub, who with optical retractable eyes, in Montlimar disguised the initial in double V..., Wonthelimar, but I was wrong! Wonthelimar already transmigrated to Raymond, staying on the banks of a stream, with nausea he regurgitated his underlying spirit state from the lyrical crust. His mouth unsheathed the most diverse and heterogeneous chronolites; Parasitized dust in pieces of temporary stone, flowing in disciples, quarantine fragments, in marriages by sinuous water. Raymond slapped his thighs in anticipation of throwing up there. His blatant, incisive alienation took over his will, with inherent crickets singing to her in isolation from him, shining his conscience, and residing in the grace of the Holy Grail. The conquest of the earthly system amputated the Andromeda Amygdale; Constellation-illusion and spouse of Perseus, who is mysterious vehicles of the solvent Grail, kept him tied to Raymond. Deafening roars erupted from the earth pits, and the mass of the mountain hung above the trees, pseudo purple and violet rays bombarding sarcophagi all over Nice.

Wonthelimar: “Since this day I have been boiling in a polysatanic hell! The Ibex picked me up from the surroundings of the Pantheon and the Quentinnai mansion, where I have never been a human again, only an Ibex in the Chauvet cavern. Thanks to the herds of goats that adopted me that I have been able to bear their pain by taking refuge in the darkness of all times, which never transpires in the past, present, and future? Now I have come in this re-location, to reorder Vernarth's parapsychology, which you are too, and who has never been able to overcome the pains of love, even beyond pale death! "

From that moment, the shadow of Heracles is seen among them, encouraging them to be part of the gods, and of the feasts of the beautiful Ankles of Heba. Thus the words redecorated them both amid the thick fog, in Avignon. Afterward, Wonthelimar left and left Raymond to continue in Marielle's darkness to the end of the world. The blister day and the scorching night, thought one of the other in constant profit, for the good of finding them in the Kalijoron..., the well of the divine light of Eleusis, for those who rest in naive peace in the face of cunning, and the decorum of the gentle dialogues in the comedies of the exceptions, after crossing the Nile, with tributers collecting the faults of the gods, or else with horrific screams that would make them prey to an imaginary Gorgon.

Wonthelimar was now going after the “Íbics Ring”, which were left in the Chauvet cavern, by some Iberian tribes of the early Neolithic age, who were on their way out desecrated the cavern with ****** in the orbit of the Ortho Heliacal. From here, in the last goal, they reach the darkness where the vampire bats were terrified to see them with their eyes in mercurial ambrosia, which enveloped them with the gums in each one as they approached in the sound of night hunger arrests, next to the betrothal death brought by the darkness of the Strigoi, in lost wanderings of their wills following the search for the panescalm sheds, which carried human chiropterans for the regions of Transylvania, subjected to distinctions and exactions of Climate Changes. From here the bronze spear Dorus of Vernarth would go to the right hand of Wonthelimar, to shield him, and to put celery-foot feet on the ineffable Kanti steed, with certain renown of Eacid of Achilles stirring up hops and low bottoms of the mineral aquifer at the base of the den. In a quick figurative gesture of Achilles, Wonthelimar passes his right hand over his nose, noticing that lights trickled from the Auriga and the Automedon that came by order of Drestnia to provide aid to him, and to rescue the Iberian Ring Eagles, to transport them to the cove of the Mound of the Profitis Ilias.

In the eternity of the noise, Vlad Strigoi is in solidarity with him and gives him lightly from the bottom of the final flow of the bilges of his panescalm, condensing air of Gaseous Gold, in Pan-Hellenic regions, and in the Valdaine regions sixty-seven kilometers from that mountain area very close to Avignon. The infected zones of physical virtue were divided into micro-regions that were compressed before Wonthelimar merged into micro space within the cavern, to abandon the burning furnaces that came alongside his interpersonal goodness, in the metaphysical transfer of darkness, and of the wicked gentlemen drawing him towards the Parasha or Parashot of the Torah, so as not to be attracted as a human to ******-emotional implications or manipulations, who will snoop in growing voices in the voids of the cavern, and in the failing anxieties of the pompous and ancient effigy tarred from Hades. Wonthelimar limps superlatively with some nervous leave, but eager to apprehend the Ibic Rings. After the Benedictus antiphons were seen coming out of his chest, they were iridescent in magenta and mordoré for those who are ibex, always hiding under the goat epidermis, sponsoring happiness practices, one and the other after their vicissitudes in a cyclical mystery classroom. On the plains, you can only see haze and the experimental change when leaving everything in the hands of those who die without rainwater and bagel, in the most absolute solitude, amidst rocks that will never and never be reconverted, less into mid-plains giving terrifying compliments on flower baskets that stink of wandering Wonthelimar clones… not being!

Wonthelimar with Kanti, they emigrate from the cavern of Chauvet in their reminiscences, standing out from the voids and invocations of Raymond in unfinished by filling space in the hearts of both. Heading southeast towards Patmos with the Ibic Rings on his bracelets, wrapped in Vernarth's Himathion for his investiture!
Wonthelimar  Ibic Rings
David Bojay Jun 2014
it's what you do to me that makes me see that the summer isn't so bad when it comes to weather if you're around and act like the winter breeze
it's what you do that fragments and throws away my left over sadness in a hole that's feelings of the are forgotten
it's what you do that puts me to sleep at night because I know I'll wake up and know you'll be mine for the next 16 hours I'm awake
it's what you do that makes me write like I'm writing about a high power that I believe in
it's what you do that makes it seem like the sun and the moon aren't the only things that can light up my world with eternal hope when the sky resembles how I used to feel; blue, or when the sky resembles my biggest fear as an innocent minded 4 year old; the darkness
it's what you do that makes it seem like water isn't the only thing that can keep me alive, because your kisses hydrate my soul more than hydrogen and oxygen hydrate my body
it's what you do that makes me want to copy and paste my words on all that I feel about you inside a door in your heart and lock them with a key that I'll throw in the deepest area of the Atlantic ocean, not even the most powerful magnet in the universe could find it, because the sureness in my sentences I compose for you are meant to stay in your heart like well thought of tattoos without hesitations on inking your skin permanently for the rest of eternity
it's what you do that makes me run the mile in 4 minutes and 53 seconds hoping you'd be at the end of the 5,280 feet I ran
it's what you do that makes think overcoming what I think is impossible at the moment is possible
it's what you do that makes me proud to stand by your side when we're walking hallways full of shame and disappointment
it's what you do that made me realize a believer of God can love a doubter of his word, an opposition to my morals
it's what you do that made me believe some blessings are everlasting, like you
it's what you do that makes me wish I could tattoo my kisses on your face to remind you that I love every inch of what you don't like when you look in the mirror to make your insecurities irrelevant to what I admire
it's what you do that makes me see that comparing galaxies to your eyes don't do them justice
it's what you do, that makes me love you as much as I do, as much as I always have, as much as I always will.
Torn Heart Mar 2021
For you the days starts early
The sun rises fast
Hydrate hydrate hydrate
You need to last

Got to Get that asphalt melting
You Grab your mop
It Smells like money
Now Your slinging hot

Your roofing now
Its not for the weak
You must be tough
Almost a freak

As the day goes by
You are really moving now
Backs begin to ache
You persevere somehow

**** the break
The greenhorns quickly learn
We’re not going to stop
We still got hot to burn

You respect the danger
You know its real
There is beauty on the roof
Only a real roofer can feel

As the sun sets low
You start to wind it down
You put in real work
You never frowned

Be proud
Hold your head high
Your a god dam Roofer
You live in the sky!!!!
Lisa Cunningham Jul 2015
I find myself in a daydream about those lips

Slowly caressing every inch of my body down to my hips

Leaving me in such a state that I cannot control mouth

Deep moans of yes and no and baby please don’t stop

I find myself surrounded in your arms, lost in your voice

I’m not fighting the mood but it takes m y body by force

Blessing my ears with such a tone of memorization

Sending me into a ****** state of confusion

That only you control and I dare not fight the hold

Cause everything you are doing is like food to my soul

As if I need it to continue for my own survival

The thought of you stopping and leaving gives me a taste of dehydration

Hogging this glass of water to the death of me, you hydrate me

Close my eyes as I continue to steady my breath

So much water I’m drowning in my water flow

Trying desperately to keep my head above the current only to be dragged down to the bottom

The water overtaking my body granting me the pleasure of feeling every desire you have

Reaching out for your face to pull you close, gazing into those eyes

Seeing the passion you have for me only takes us to new depths of waters

Suddenly the effort to breath becomes easier as we are exchanging an never ending oxygen support

Legs wrapped around you waist, squeezing to keep you near

As my body is shaking with overwhelming pleasure from this sea we have created

Wanting to bring you to the edge of the waterfall and watch you overflow your self

Both of us deep underwater submerged in love

Suddenly floating to the surface again

It seems we overdosed on love, in our own sea we drowned.
Reworked from a shorter poem
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
without veneration for what i already censored and ensured that what Christianity venerates as holy, in curses, or oath words - in newspapers aplenty, f%&@ - and i would venerate that? why not the little censor backpacker with the tetragrammaton word forever hushed, thought about? enough fucky-fucky-sucky-sucky i'm sure - it's so much eloquent to censor speaking something sacred than something debasing - you can just claim to be speaking pardonable French - and i rather a humility be indebted to something that can take intellectual promises and fulfil them, than have to play peek-ah-boo with the murk of Cockney slang - so childish... so ****** childish i reeks of sulphur in what's to be achieved by "seeming" polite - even with oath words censored, people have no greater vocabulary - and i really do like to see a great respect of spelling.

in practical terms - i sort of "lied" about how how Hebraic
schooling hides vowels - they do indeed,
hide 4... i once wrote a poem entitled *two Adams
-
prior to investigating the matter further, only
today i stumbled upon the meaning - i was intending
a story of Eden with two Adams - a homosexual
affair - perhaps Satan the surrogate mother -
so less myth including the second Eve (Lilith) -
but the Hebraic school doesn't hide all the vowels -
it has two variations of the vowel a -
aleφ (א) and ayiν (ע) - hence the premonition of
the two Adams was subconscious rested in this
observation, i've seen a Hebrew alphabet prior -
but i didn't attach much detail to it worthy of furthered
inspection - it would seem natural that out of 5 vowels
four are hidden as if diacritical marks akin to
the umlaut or acute stresses ( ¨ or ´ ) - by
hiding four vowels you are bound to get a tetra-
something, in this case a -grammaton - further details
also emerge: why are two identical vowels apparent
among the consonants? aesthetic purposes? a full-circle
effect? a closure? i was in north London today and
i was spotting orthodox Jews, i don't know why
but i seem them with their curls either side of their heads
and think of Italian Mafia - they really do look
like the Mafia - call them Dactyl Mafia (not a foot
in poetic meter, or the sons of Cybele / Rhea -
but as in that sweet fruit - a date, plenty of date trees
in the middle east) from now on, i will - so with
4 vowels hidden as diacritical marks, 1 vowel for
whatever reason ~mirror image given the cutting up
of a- from -leph and a- from -yin - yang bangs
the saucers for a symphony impromptu as if Jamaican steel -
hence i'm supposing the deja vu of the H hey'tches -
and from that you get the perfect storm for perfect
laughter: עה אה
                          עה אה
                                   עה אה! (alias of a definite article -
looking at the world, no talk of philosophical veils and
ultra-realities - it's just definitely there and you might
as well laugh about it).

3:23 until 3:58 - Muse's Stockholm Syndrome -
in my hand Milton's Paradise Lost -
that grand Greek style epic that really bit off
William Blake's tongue and ear with self-improvised
jealousy - concerning book iii - Satan's entry into
this world - indeed through t book iv -
guiltless he, for the chess piece was already made -
and what only kept it from a sacrificial bite
was the motive of the game being begun -
the nudge of a pawn could have made a rook fake
advance across the line of pawns - yet man's
pawn also took charge.

no daytime interruptions this time - 400 years by
the pyramids and 3 years in Auschwitz -
the latter: no purpose, our insider was there, Eva Braun -
my grandfather visited Auschwitz, from the stories he
recounted... none of my relatives died there,
most of them on the front, don't expect me to go,
I AIN'T GOING! i'll go to a Kosher bakery -
i'm not going out of principle, on the principle that
it wouldn't be personal, or so i heard, impersonal,
catching Pokemons in that facility - as you might
have guessed weird things are happening in the night
at times, moving stars, appearing and disappearing
without a fixed zodiac - pretty common these days -
once i watched a triangle of such rebels move across
the sky, once a Gemini variations, most of the time
one star moving... then another -
happened to me in Venice, keeps happening
in Essex, happened in Ostrowiec Św. in Poland too
(my grandfather watched with me... thought they
were satellites at first... and i was like... satellites?
really? give it a day, you'll come to your senses - we can't
see satellites from earth! look again, same size and brightness
as all the other stars in static zodiac, to the naked eye
and not a telescopic eye, the same size) -
so i'm sitting there having a beer, and giving up my
thought to the altar of what's happening -
three proofs during the night - star of Bethlehem -
the Koran - come on! total darkness - we're talking
using phonetic encoding by an illiterate person -
good at numbers when it came to being a merchant -
but in terms of letters? total caveman, Khadija (Muhammad's
first wife) must have written the first few Surahs -
Stephen Vizinczey's in praise of older women -
learning a foreign language aged 40 must be hard enough,
this is Prophet Blind-man in Reverse - it's a completely
different story being literate an being illiterate, esp. when
looking at sound encoding - less damaging for the latter,
even more damaging for the former given universal
education and the lost monopoly on literacy by the priesthood.
so, those two proofs (after 40 days in the desert without
food or water, any idiot could make water into wine -
imagine the dehydration, alcohol dehydrates, hydrate
and you'd be jumping-jack any time, esp. at a wedding,
with so much joy euphoria adding to a sip of water after
40 days in a desert).
Julie Grenness May 2016
Once there was a man called Jim,
This tale is quite maudlin,
So, what was wrong with Jim?
He received some pets from his family,
Who decided to give Jim pet therapy,
So, what was wrong with that?
Lucky they didn't give Jim a cat,
So, why, indeed is that?
Well, he had a budgie and a terrapin,
New little friends for poor old Jim,
Which he forgot to hydrate,
He forgot until it was way too late,
His terrapin turned turtle,
A desiccated shade of purple,
But, what about Jim's budgie? You ask,
Daily feeding was supposed to be Jim's task,
Poor budgie mortuus, there he lay,
Jim's family came to visit one day
Eventually, his daughter's jaws did part,
"There's nothing colder than an ex-budgie's heart!"
Feedback welcome.
ERR Nov 2010
Clouded formation of inner color control mechanism
System synesthesia pulsing eyes and dull surroundings
Float in gently woven tapestries that make the atmosphere
Dig into a solidified and nullified enigma
Decisions though no comprehension brought to life like a golem
The line that I cross between focused and lost has me open
Smooth and calm status accepted and enjoyed
Fellow interlocutors debate and compare wisdom
Rowdy and open to suggestion, I share freely
Less inclined to anxious thoughts
Like spiders creeping in the dark
Mysterious and unfamiliar persons are simply characters
As I weave a tale after my own interests
Nothing to fear in a world where I am capable
My guests are strewn about
The ruckus scattered and cluttering
Thumping walls of a thought tank desperate
Hydrate-Revive-Rejuvenate
Rebuild by burning like a forest fire
Cycles become me sadly
To my friends whose hearts I'm about to break, know that my left cheek will shatter first before your hearts does.
I hope that's comforting enough to hear.
I've always liked the angle of the right side of my face better, therefore the papers and reporters shall see just that.
I hope that's relieving enough to see.
To my other friends whose eyes I will be leaving swollen ugly for days on end,
España's rain and floods shall hydrate you back to life.
I know because I have blessed the skies with my own tears on the nights prior.
Dapitan's dust and smog shall breathe air into your lungs, but not into mine.
I know because I won't he here tomorrow.
I hope that's alleviating enough to know.

Over the last month, I have never figured out if I liked España or Dapitan better.
But I suppose it's the former, for it shall have my sorry excuse of a body
for the very last time.
It's a bad metaphor for a feigned
and forced liberty,
as with this country that I lived in and loved better than the pretentious
and lifeless cities I've traveled to.
Singapore is but a fleeting fling.
Tickles your fancy but will leave you tired and in resentment.
Hong Kong is just another plaything.
Everybody would tell you she's good and all that, but she lost to your tastes still.
Macau is the lover that never gives but keeps on asking,
she was never the safest bet
nor can you lie and tell her she's the best.
Johor is just as frustrating.
She would be the hardest question in the test, the one you've thought of over and over but still stood miscorrect.
Bangkok, I have kept her dearly in my heart but ended up forgetting still.
My other lover from the farther west, but still wouldn't compare to the best.

But Manila, she lives in me. She is me.
It's a shame, I will never see her prosper and bloom in her waiting heydays,
whenever that may be.
But do I deserve to witness that?
I have never done anything to help pitch in her movement.
But it's a bigger, even better shame to have lived in this age of technology.
Forgive me for leaving too soon, Manila.
Welcome me tomorrow around high noon, España.  
Forget about me like you did with your history, my beloved Philippines.
To the headlines, I am diving in headfirst.
To the tabloids, I beg of you to once more tickle the funny bones of a dead girl.
Diyan Sa May Mga Nilad #9: Headfirst To The Headlines
POSSIBLE Apr 2021
Fall into the melody...
Fall away from the felony...


M̵̧̞̦̪̦͈̖̭̣̃̋͗̈̓́͆̓̈́͌̃̈́ͅḿ̵̢͖̟̩̱̯̦̮̜̘̮̰͎͈͊̿̒̔͐͛̔́̊͋͜ͅ­̠h̵̛͚̦̙̻̙͕̲͈̻̹̃̑͌̊͂͊̇̎̂̐͗̔̕̕̕͠h̵̡̳̹̼̯̙͔̞̯͕̽͑̈́͐͗̈́̀͗̀͒͐̓̚͘̕ͅm̶̟͗̀͐͝­͚͎̲͎̳̳̰̳̤̮ͅͅh̷̨͉̙͚̱͖͔͈͖̼̠̮̟͆̂͗͛͐̽̓̿͊̊̚̚͠͝ę̸̛̘̮̘͔̳̰̟̐͊̑̌̀̓̌̓̽̎̒͘̚­̨͎̯͎̭͎̝h̷̨̪̖͍͚̩̣̼͍̲̲̜̻͒͛̈͐ ̸̨̨̛͙͈̝̦͙̺̪̹̘̫͇͕̩̫͋̐̋̚͠m̵̨̛͔̰̹̬̯̦̥͇̰̺̖͔͆͛̐̆̋̈́͒̈̍̎͗͜h̸̡͇͍̫͈̔͆͗̇͛͜͝­h̵̢̥͇̼̟͙̗̪̺̹̖̞̾͑̈͑̓̍͛̂̍̋̌̚͜h̴̛͖͎̦̳̪͔̮͍̫̯̯̜̱̹̐͑̄̃̉̽̂͒̏͗͝ḩ̷̲̭͈̜͜͝ͅ­̮͖͜h̷̭̥̜̜̙́́̈͛̎̏̃͘͠ȕ̴̙̰͔̞̄ú̴̡̹̮̦̠̐̈́͆͂̀͌̚͜ͅŭ̴͓͙̗̍̑̿̀̽̇̊͑̅͘͘̚͝͠ͅ­̝͔ͅͅu̵̖̰̱̗̬̳͊̇̈́̀̂̿̃͒͛͐̇͐̓͠h̶̡̛̜͉͉̥̻͈͓̱͉̣̀̿̀̊̇̐̈̀̽̈́͗̕̚:̴̛̎̇̂̎́͆̐͐­̢͇̤͕́̅͒͠


Following fine lines
But still, find myself

Lost in the trees
Following these

Rivers of difference
Babbel between

Deliberate peaks
Slivered and scattered ships
  
Littered literates spread
through splattered ṣ̵͗t̴̩͛r̷̲̓ị̵̋p̶͔̑ṡ̶͈

Saying goes:

Man Move Mountains
  Man move ounces
(Tilled forests raise foundries)

Alex Taught to push :
  Immortal as Icarus
Legend so rigorous
Now we all Sisyphus, ****.

(̴͖͝Ď̵̫è̴͉a̵̝͑d̵̝̄ ̶͙͗n̵̞͋ẹ̴̌v̶̡͋ę̵̈́r̸̩̀ ̵̗͝d̸̮͝e̷̳͂a̷̙͊d̶̰̉ ̵̢͝ț̵̿h̶̹̑ê̴̥ ̷̨̿l̷̲̍e̵̘̓g̸͉͑e̴͚̊n̵̜̕ḏ̸͌ ̸͖̿å̶̞c̷̬͐c̷̹̈́o̵̹͐ú̵̩n̶͇͠ṭ̴͋ ̶̹̇f̵̫͋o̴̙͛r̴̮̾ ̴̲͠t̵̫̊h̸͓̾i̷͓͒ś̸͙ ̶̛̣)̶̛̯

Still find people weird...

Times where clowns
Seem see-through.

Where seams of seas
and deeds for these

Grow Seeds from Scenes
My Gurus breathe through.

Winds sweep up
as the Moment pounces

Bullet quick
through Money pouches

Still indigo here too remind that :

We
Is stronger than I

****
is stronger than high

When hearts are aligned
Lead song from the mind

Never seem to last forever
Got em all  waiting for a blast of clever

Listen close :
Hard  to dine and dash in error

Oh god of media ×
just trying to cash in terror

Oh god please raise me up ×
The stairs from Saint to Sinner...

Or was it Sinner to Saint?
Call it trial and error ×

With Mystical p̴̩̀a̶̺̓ḯ̴̦n̸͚͒t̸̪͝
Expert alchemical bearer

I'll be the standard I bear up
Of owning all my moments
This sin that I tear up

Putting my palms feet,
(My hands, words, my deeds)
Towards all souls atoning

Raising grace like the moments laced
God on my tongue, Just
Keeping pace with the aftertaste

I'm a blinded Ace with a savage case
So the doc says hydrate
till the drips replaced

Better stay braced
cause we laying waste ( **** )
Spiky v̵̥̆ḭ̸͆r̵̰̂u̵̙͋š̸̟ covid space (fuuuuck)

Now:

I may pace in place considering vagrant states  
Dey don raised a case to obliterate mental waste

But we ****** up with them Crowley ways to play
Blood, ******, Mag̵͈̕ḯ̸͓k̵̳͠, *** for  days

Corrupted plays....
So far from grace

Figured Paradise Lost
So we prayed through sprays

Blinded by Lazer Raves
While (we) Distract for daze

When The chemical stays
But I called myself a hero,
A chemical Brave...

More like brazen youth
Surrendered
my mind eye and tooth

Question, am I denying truth?
Jesus was I denying you?
Why it takes the loss of a youth
And you saving him for me buy in to ...
The weight of a soul, that's the buy-in foo.

So we:

Mostly Replaced grass with gratitude
Replaced *** with attitude
Replaced mind with knowing you

Looking outside for help
ain't betraying true
We can't know it all
that's just the lay man's


t̸̢̗̞̣̟͕̣̹̭̟̻̬̒̍̒̐͐͛̆̈́̎̅̔̾r̵̺̯̞̩͕̳̘̗̗̗̝͖̯̝̾̒̀͒͆͗͘u̵͔͂̈́̽̐͗̎͐́̉̑̓́̕­̢̢͖͔͍̤t̷̨̛͇̻̙̻̖͔͕̪͍̣̟̜̰̙̉̉̏͗̎̊̀̒͆̊́͋h̷̛̗̙̟̟̠̫̳̦̽̈̀̃̊͋͌͆̀̚͝.̶͍͕̩̘͑­͎
Divine Grime Meditation
Tyler Nicholas Sep 2011
My joints ache and my back is broken.
My lips are parched and my throat is decaying come on and hydrate my being.
Because I know one thing is for sure -
Heaven and Hell both long for my soul,
and this dense and gyrating battle
exhausts me immensely.

My eyes are sore.
With one blink, the dawn returns to dusk
and the owls start to call out to each other
No sound of the morning songbird
or the church bells signaling the Seraphs to flight.
I am always in the night,
and always in transit with the nocturnal

Let us hold each other to sleep.
No liquor will drown the moon away.
Sense my brokenness and fill this empty vessel.

We are shipwrecks needing rescue.
I wish we could
catch a raindrop
with our hands
Hydrate a 3 a.m.
conversation about how
the First Agreement
either does
or doesn't
keep us honest
about the way
we look at
each other.

At 3:13 a.m. I tell a
story about my
favorite agate
I found when
I was 13.

By now it's
pouring outside
and a bolt
of thunder
snaps me out
of my haze.

Laying on my pillow
I remember
I need
the clouds because
I live
in a storm,
and right now
you're the calm
before, during, and after.

Your voice is the one
I hear over the
whirl of the wind,
the one I feel
after waking up
in a pool of
my own sweat,
the one I see
even through the
distance of feeling
alone.

So talk to me
before, during,
and after
the storms
of our lifetime,
and we can share
what we find
together
in the aftermath.
Lin Cava Oct 2010
To think we might go terraforming;
When we cannot save our own green earth.
Bulldoze, clear, hydrate, land conforming -
Leave behind the trash with carefree mirth

Lost to eyes that have never perceived
Intrinsic beauty within a leaf
The song of nature, gifts we’ve received
Perfumed zephyrs, their aroma brief

A symphony of insects and birds
Trills and whistles, loud winds and soft sighs
Music here that needs no spoken words
Had they noticed how it softly dies?

We’ve pushed beyond a safe redemption
Killed off species never discovered
So much more of which we can mention
Some, much too late to be recovered

And yet, we plan on terraforming
Move on to a new place, start out fresh
Some might see it as bullish storming
With ways unchanged, new worlds we enmesh.


Lin Cava©
Creative Commons Copyright
Chris Byng Dec 2014
A man wearing a tailored suit appears at a rivals lodging holding a box in his right fist and his hat in the other. He knocks on the door. A man in rags answers, he is desperate to experience the same kind of riches that the well dressed man has accomplished. It seems that they have been rivals since birth.  Both men came from the same place and are indistinguishable in almost every way. The only difference was appearance. One appeared  greater, and the other appeared lesser. The well dressed man's rival has been hounding, pleading, scheming for years to get whatever it is that made his counterpart successful. The man in rags dropped to his knees in the doorway of his broken down cube that he calls home. "What's your secret? Is it in that box?" This box was in the successful man's life for years. This exact interaction has happened countless times. The difference with this particular moment is that the man in rags has lost hope. Lost luster, lost vigor and drive. His downfalls have put extreme weight on his shoulders and has literally brought him to his knees right in front of his rival.
Once he had demanded,  "You will tell me your secret! At every chance you get you look in that box. At every heartbreak or wrong turn you peek inside and get aspiration, epiphanies. I want that. I need that. You tell me what's inside!" But it never worked. The well dressed man would say nothing, do nothing, and would act as if the lesser man was invisible. The man in rags could never convince the well dressed man to share his secret. Force wouldn't work either because the man in rags was a pacifist.  Also displayed weakness, meagerness, he was insufficient and desperate.  The well dressed man was the exact opposite,  strong decisive, calm and confident.  The lesser man wanted what was on the other side of the fence, he wanted to feel the soft bluegrass beneath his feet, as opposed to the dirt covered baroness yard that he had became so spiteful of.  "The key to success is in the box." The man in rags thought.
Now the man in rags is almost 6 feet into the ground, metaforiacally, he is at rock bottom. The well dressed man for saw this and that was why he was standing in front of a failing vessel holding his prized humble possession.
The box was black, with gold trim painted on the sides. It also had a lock embedded in the side made of platinum.  It was a identical to what the well dressed man embodied. The man in rags tried many times to break inside but to no avail,  the box stood resilient. Couldn't even make a dent or scratch.  
Now he had given up. Leaning against the frame of his door, welts growing bigger and more painful on his knees with every passing moment. Tears flowing from his eyes, so much he could hydrate a village of camels. The well dressed man, with no reservations, no emotion says nothing and hands the lesser male a purple key with a gold and platinum crown embroidered on the hilt. The man  in rags looks up with sorrow and anticipation.  He gently grasps the key and slowly glides it into the platinum lock. 'Click' it's opening. Every second that passes by feels like an hour to the man who's knees are numb with pain. Finally he looks inside and comes to see... That the box is empty. "What is this!? A trick?! A lie!? Why do you toy with me so, why?" The lesser man's shoulders slumped down to his waist. He falls dead fully silent.
The well dressed man puts the box aside while he kneels down on one knee, still exuberant with confidence and strength and looks the man in rags man in the eyes. The energy was so intense the lesser man was frozen and felt every emotion imaginable at once.  ".....There was never anything inside of this parcel..." The greater man  then put his hat on, and walked away.
People get so caught up in what other people are wearing that they forget to mend their own clothing.
Poetic T Mar 2016
I tied you to the boot of this stolen car, what a pile
of rust but beggars cant be choosy, you do beg but I
chose this place specifically don't worry I tied you
to an old fords car door,  let the fun now begin.

I put the peddle to the metal, I hear you screaming in
anticipation of what happens next. Got to love speed
bumps, 30, 40, 60 then I brake just before swerving
so you sail past then you fly. Screaming all the way.

"I found ford doors have the right weight ratio to land
door side up Skoda's, Audi,

"No,
"The mess of so many to clean up road pastry is not the
easiest to clean away, slinters in my fingers hurt like hell ,


They fly through the air I see them just before some with
eyes closed fear etched on the sweat dripping or is that
tears? I put a three pronged circle to see where they finish
up. Each has a consequence, red, orange and green.

"You land in the outer dam, out comes the penalty stick,

Not many survive that, as I am angry for ill landings a lack
off at least trying, I warn them but some just cry till I give
them a good few whacks. I know silly but I do little sound
effects "bang, bang, splat, then silence and twitching

"Bang, "I hate those that just linger and twitch die already,

Now orange that's ok at least the next one tried, but not hard
enough,I give you a two pronged choice, gouge your sight out
with a spoon or a fork "what at least I'm giving them a choice,
now they scream but some got ***** it must be said.

Some do it, see no evil you know what I'm saying hanging tears
of claret weep from there now semi vacant sockets, and still
they try to blink "look at me, as their head rise, but their still
staring at the floor and I prune the with but two snips. Some
survive others just clutch to a chest and like that "DEAD,

Now those that survive, well lets just say I am a man of my
word I put them in the car to the safety I promise, I talk to
them but understandably their not in the talking mood,
I give them water to hydrate and replenish lost liquid that
has others wise bleed slowly out, and some even say "thank you,

Now what can I say luck, skill, survival instinct but so few have
done it, like a four leaf clover they land in the pastures of green.
I jump up and down like a child at the fair who just won the
big dinosaur on the very first try, punching the air and a very loud
"Hell ye that's what I'm talking about baby,
Then kiss um on the forehead, lips are to personal for my profession.

I tell them what skills what entertainment for some as twisted as it
seems liked what I did, a few even asked for double or nothing.
But luck only goes so far and then the regrettably the penalty stick
came out, I do the sign of L on my forehead then their silent once again.

But those who sighed with relief, as I promised were released, at the
end of a gun mind you a bottle of water given gratefully drank,
then on their merry way, I bid them fair well and as that they never
Divulge this incident as I have their wallets, purses even email
you never no maybe bored and recollect our good times past tense
of course for we all must face what is inevitable,

"Life is moments, where death is a breath that will always last,  

But as is death, freedom is a fleeting moment, and a mind changes
like the wind different direction, different path. Trial and error were
key, things that mattered "weight, height, ***, all factors in the
end result of what is like a momentary freedom to the air then
realization as they descend to a finite moment of death.

I always picked those that drove, why easier to cover tracks of
what was perused in my desires for a unique way to challenge
others need to survive. To breath another moment to exist in this
time of now not to pass. But life is fickle and my fun must last.

I always made sure that they drank the water, a necessity of
what came next ever drop drank, if denied then you guessed
it, penalty stick then "Dam, I do love my sound effects.
But released those with sight no knowledge of their ill fate.

Those I killed in the drivers seat pick a place where
gravity would take president in this delicate manoeuvre
so that they would go through what was needed a accident
of fatal consequence. Then on to the living that was next.


Like jack they rolled down the hill till unconscious they fell,
this little automobile swerving,  ricocheting off boundary and
wall till wheels graced air and the reeve of the engine heard.
A little gift of what was left in the boot a full tank of petrol
and the lid so loosely covered, accidents do happen.

I did one more thing I doubt they noticed there cigarette
lighter engineered to be so slightly hot, just like porridge
to hot would be seen and felt, to cold and would be a waste
of battery not enough, but warmth enough to ignite an
accident in the back and I firework of flames birth forth.

Some exploded they were the best, while others tumbled
flame and wreckage spread out what a mess. I always chose
the location, never the same suspicion would fall and my
fun would expire and probably my life snuffed out in a
breath. always cliffs near by and wall was best.

Now I bid you farewell as other circles must be drawn.
New doors must be had, who will hit the bulls-eye or
who will fail the test. I'll try two doors at once spice
up life's fun a little who will hit green and who will
be the one who twitches and then "Bang, silence is best.
Emanuel Martinez Dec 2012
No, ashes no longer fall
From the sky

Those diamonds are precious
Between your thighs

And that pounding in your chest
Fossil fuel, so indespensable
Can keep someone like me full

I'm a minner ready to fall
Into you, most valuable ore

The mere thought of you
Can warm me more
Than coal or wood

You can heat my heart,
Set my body ablaze
A thousand degrees higher
Then lava consuming land

No, ashes no longer fall
From this sky

You must have come
To save me

How brave we,
Knowing love is dangerous
Knowing it can fail,
Trying with no fear or avail

My manifestation of love,
You rise from the shadows
Letting me know I can be yours

Like warm water dew drops
I see you trying to attempt
To hydrate, fortify this force of nature

No, ashes no longer fall
From our sky

Taking it one precious step at time
If our paths allows us
Like two cells engineering one being
Living one life knowing we have each other
December 28, 2012
Friends, enemies, angels, demons, and Gods alike:
I have but a simple request of thee: (however redundant it may well be)
forget not to drink Water!

For
't'is an acid in basic environments
and a base in acidic environments;
't'is comprised of two of the most explosively energetic elements
and 't'is the foundation upon which many systems operate
and 't'is the medium through which many systems facilitate.

'T'is pure crystalline goodness
for these, our crystalline bodies;
and, I find, the chances are
't'will only be of benefit to thee
to drink some more of it!

So, my advice is:
do it: drink it deep
if, indeed, ye can.
For,
thou art fortunate
if such be the case
and it's straight-up ******' irreverent
to ignore such an extreme gift.

When it is there,
't'is there for thee;
't'will nourish thee.

Give thanks to it
as well as for it.

Hydrate,
it feels great.
It can be a cure-all
for even the worst moods.

Some mint, some lemon,
maybe some solid water polyhedrons,
should ye encounter such need
for diminished thermal states.

Though, warm water is absorbed more readily.

The moral here is merely
to respect what thy Body needs,
both mentally and physically:
't'is thy vessel;
't'is owed thy respect:
't'is what gives thee Time,
and it is good to give back.
Suffer my personal interpretation of grammar!
Let's just agree to call it Art! ;)
Nahal Dec 2016
When you skip the rhyme
And you scan the lines
And you feel whatever you can,
Whatever comes to you: it's what I am.
A sobering experience
Highlighting our differences
As I'm allowing the typed letters to form words
And the words, often absurd.
Like the water will hydrate your body and skin
The words will do the same to your mind and soul within.
deanena tierney Mar 2010
The rational connection of mind to heart, fails;  amidst oppression.
And selfs' own sake will hide away, concede;  deny expression.
As I, now, twisted internal, seeking within, my fill.
For famine of mankinds' virtues, beckons me to my own will.

To draw upon my minds' well waters, reason every discourse thrown,
But are these resolves born true? Is this slant really my own?
Or some opinion, stole in past, from man with noble name,
Or truly this, my own wit? But impressed, are they not the same?

Though  life revealed foe, of friend; the spirits' urge will still attend.
And Hope; unbound, ever present, dwells; unfaltering, fervent to end.
And Faith, oh Faith, clings on, clings on;  amidst war and grief, despair.
Such as a moth to a miniscule light, when the beam is no longer there.

Though I have no mortal hand to clasp, no steps in tune to compose,
Behold, Hope and Faith still wander inside,  and outward, in my prose.
And what of Nature? I'll tell you. Possession of a freedom I full own.
No enemy, traitor, nor judge can claim the memories I have known.

The majestic crystal sparkling, of tiny buds on trees.
When noon is at its' highest, clear day on summers' eve.
Deafening quiet, stillness yet, of brook in land, far, near.
Where all alone, I gathered pebbles, and threw to spring so clear.

To sit and almost ponder, paths foreborne, foregone and chose,
Then too pensive, outcast those thoughts, minds' purpose opted close.
And stared, vacant, purposeless; to focal point, of what?, unsure;
Oppression could not enter there; for nature and heart were pure.

And dear sweet wind to hydrate, the thirst; sunquenched,  my skin,
Yet not too fierce or frequent, that would be appreciations' sin.
Clouds, course set  by own accord, frolicking, playfully, with the sun,
Flit over, near, under, and back, and then softly, become just one.

And behold, grey cloud, rumbling, with precipice; this is natures'way,
To alter sky and mind inspire;  grant seasons within the day.
And rain; higher powers' solace, to cool, to heal, to renew,
Sparkles more grandly at times by far, then sun on the morning dew.


May life impose upon my heart, oppression, body frail, dreary cope,
It shall not ever wrench the hold of Nature, Faith, and Hope.
“Ere to sustain, I travel lone. Masked, solitary, confined.
To ensure thy bodys' sustenance; preserve sanity of mind.”
Richie Vincent Jun 2016
Dripping in adolescence,
Breaking ourselves to get a gist of what putting ourselves back together has the power to feel like,
Late nights spent making horrible decisions to wake up in the morning and recover what little energy we have left,

It is not me, it is you
It is not we, it is us

Surrounded by hot sweaty bodies collecting cold sweat in jars so we have something to hydrate our obsession with confidence with,
Feeding off positive energy to form some sort of understanding of what pessimism takes to the battlefield every day,
In every way, this is everything we tell ourselves not to get into, yet do anyway,

Giving ourselves to the wrongdoers to see how much of a tolerance we have built up,
Searching the cracks of innocent bodies trying to find the answer to all of the promises broken on us,
Coming up with excuses so we don't have to apologize for being the lesser man,
Ruining our shoes by walking on the mud of teenage heartbreak,
Driving as far away as possible and hoping that our problems won't catch up to us,

We are dangerous, but we wouldn't change a ******* thing
We are always late, but we wouldn't miss any of this for the world
Broken, but not recovering because we love the feeling of knowing we still have the strength to help ourselves if we have to,

We are finding space where there is none,
We are loud when it is all silent,
We are never ending where the ends meet,
Lost in the static of this electrifying atmosphere we call our youth,

Look how high we're jumping from

Not dying, but getting there,
We wouldn't change a thing,
We are loving every minute of it
Huda Feb 2018
I've reached a door after twenty-three years that I apparently can't walk into unless alone, as foolish as I always am.. I decided I'd never let go of my loved ones and lost that last piece of me behind that door and stayed here. Lost, confused as ****, loved but not like I should be loved, communicating when I don't even believe in the word or the magic of that action, but at least with my loved ones.. Eh?


Oh well, if any of you people are reading this behind the door, did I miss it? was it wrong that I quit it? I know it was a mistake, I knew it while I was walking the opposite direction from it as well. I said all the stupid things I'm supposed to say but only when it "felt right" well, nothing feels right. But at least I'm with my loved ones, yeah?


I lay in bed in mornings and for hours at midnight, I walk the roads to everything alone my heart can't stop feeling this sort of unbearable feeling and I think it's trying to tell me something that I still can't figure out or most probably in complete denial about, I eat the food I'm supposed to eat, I hydrate, I walk as much as I can, I stopped listening to blues and only listened to what made my heart race, I've watched my cat give birth to the most beautiful six kittens ever existed, I sit with my mother until she's out of talks, I take long therapeutic baths and treat myself right.. from time to time.. but my heart is still feeling the same way, almost nothing but that feeling, and relates to nothing but that unbearable feeling.  So.. I decided I'd try and talk to my loved ones, my darlings, my whole life which is the reason I chose them over myself and it goes like this:
My sister, my guardian angel: "You should go have a full checkup."
My best friend: "Same"
My loved one: "..."
And I knock the door
Once
Twice
But I stand here alone
hours in the morning, hours at night
roaming all the roads
staring at every wall built
the sky, clouds and the sun
alone
but thinking about my loved ones
RyanMJenkins Dec 2012
Hey friends,
just want you to know as this year ends,
whether you ingest brownies, alcohol or ecstasy,
stay safe, hydrate and create some new history, blissfully.
Get live, just don't drink and drive cuz we still have memories to make.
Consciously enjoy your slice of heaven, for heaven's sake.
Much love to you and the stars above
May you feel peace as clear and symbolic as the emergence of a dove.
Wear a glove if you get frisky,
and if you're strapped for cash drink off-brand whiskey.
May the music vibrate your soul, and the collective energy-field take hold
For you to seize control and own the present.
Let intuition guide you to a place more pleasant.
Even if you're gonna sit at home, sippin' on some beer,
*I hope you enjoy yourself, and have an amazing New Year!
nivek Sep 2014
hot sun
the sweat
heat on
full blast
the sweat
losing weight
re-hydrate
the sweat
the sweat
the sweat
David P Nov 2012
On a raft in the middle of the ocean
walking alone and dehydrated in the desert
lost and hungry in the wilderness
friends in the skies in the images of clouds
inspiring memories but nothing on which I can feast
tears too salty to quench my thirst
try to speak but i just weep
try to put energy into my feet
I loved you all but this is so hard
I want so **** bad to survive
Can't anyone see I'm barely alive?
Questioning why I should even try?
Tears dried in the heat of the sun
Years ago I stopped having fun
******* I'm just so
I'm just so done
Drifting on a raft
in the middle of an ocean
of my own bitter tears
they can't hydrate me
can anyone revive me?
Can I survive being me?
I thought I knew reality
If this is life then it's death to me
Cause there aint even one breath left in me
Can I redeem what's left of me?
Starving for an epiphany
I just hope you all remember me
as this planet dismembers me
as I succumb to being me
praying for a new me
Mohd Arshad Aug 2018
Palms are unbreakable cups, lithe and elastic,
And safe out of the shelves of spray-on-jeans.

Always, you pose them before the blue kettle,
And little drops in dribs and drabs, no satiation.

Fancy he in rags reaches your doorsteps, hoping
To hydrate his withered tongue from them anon.

You pelt one of them at him like the tethered ball;
for him it's a knife; he damns you and draws back.

They're the speaking toys for the child for its tears,
And they clank when he gropes for them at your "no".
Hayley Coleman Dec 2014
You are essential
Like water that needs to hydrate dry bodies
And nourish growing trees.
I need you like the earth needs the sun
And how the moon needs the earth
And how humanity needs oxygen.
I thirst for you
Like a carnivore thirsts for blood
Or how she thirsts for pulls
Of cheap ***** on Monday nights.
You are the droplet of water running down the car window
As I look outside I barely see you
For I am mesmerized by the lights and the charisma
Of night.
Eventually as the sun begins to rise,
Waking the earth with her essential light
I notice you resting on the window.
My hands are very dry,
So I roll down the window
And rest my hand outside
Feeling the cool drops of you
Quench my need for love
That I feel I'll never fully
Receive.
My spirit travels a road of smiles.
Streetlights are friends frolicking in place.
Mistakes pile up into traffic jams.  
But I'm a walking jetpack.
Setbacks are happy trails.
Been there, done that, blazed the darkness.
I promise to go the way of the adventurer.
Getting lost is finding my way.
Staying chin up and heart out, a bobcat of a man.
I stand, in the onslaught, caught in the rain.
Insane are the naysayers shaking their heads.
They may as well stay in bed laying dead.
Never praying for anything.
This is for the adventurers out there inventing our truth.
Never losing our youth as we breathe it in from a cigarette.
And you can bet, when in danger, we don't become strangers to us.
Tragic turns to magic, fear turns to tears which hydrate our peace.
And moments of happiness that we clamor through.
Become the blueprints of our soul.
So when it's all said and done, we carry on our enchanted worlds.
For the life of the adventurer truly never unfolds.

-Carm 4/8/14
Viewtifulink Jul 2014
When something's not
right..... Homeless, unsheltered
by your category of routine....
it may invite emotions mental
security hired for the dismissal
of any loitering  

angry disappointment and frustration
just to name a few guards within
your mind who's considered the
most mean, tell me again why
your mind requested it's streets
to be clean

we are rich....
with health so many
can't even afford to
breathe... Can you
imagine living with
dreams of being able
to breathe absent
machines, or...: having
to bathe and hydrate
your child with water's
struck with a disease that
feast on living things, I'm
not revoking your right
to complain just lending
you the thought of  the
perception of you through another's
lens may mimic the one of
a king

we take so much for
granted and stress the
minor things when so
many struggle to survive
and pray that god intervenes

Silenced

© 2014 viewtifulink
liz Dec 2013
i want people to just after me
and i want confidence to ooze out of by body
and i want people to turn their heads and swoon
and i want the attention i deserve
and the happiness i require
and the time needed to make it happen

but mainly i want your frozen heart
piggy backing on mine
until black mixes with purple
and you feel me
like three weeks ago
along the back of my spine
and front of my rib cage

cause baby i can feed you
and i can hydrate you after all the tears
and swell up all the sadness
until it blisters and oozes
cause baby its painful
i know it
stop counting
the clock stopped with me

— The End —