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LucidLucy Mar 2017
May mali sa nangyayare sa buhay ko.

Bakit nagiisa lang ako?
Tama ba tong ginagawa ko?

Ginagawa kong dahilan yung pagkawala mo.

Ganito ba dapat ang maramdaman ko?
Para akong matutuluyan sa kahibangan ko.
Isang pitik pa, isang kanta, isang malupit na alala.
Kung matitimbang lang ang luha, siguro aabot na yung akin sa tonelada.
Nakakatawa. Wala atang makakatapat sa narating nating dalawa.


Hindi ko gusto tong estado na to.


Ayokong kalimutan lahat ng masayang alaala.


Sa lahat ng pagkakataon na namuhay ako magisa.
Para sa lahat ng sama ng loob na sumabog at di ko natantya.
Sa lahat ng gawain mo na anlakas magpaasa.
Yung ngiti **** tagilid pero nadadale pa din ako.
Yung balbas mo na ambilis tumubo.
Sa dalawang pusa na palagi **** alaga.
Nung mga oras na kailangan ko ng kasama tapos di ka nawala.
Sa katangahan at kababawan ko na naniniwala na nandyan ka pa.
Para sa lahat ng sakit na kailangan ko daanan mag isa.
Lahat ng dating tropa na di na nakakakilala.
Nakataas ang kamao ko pero nakaangat yung daliri sa gitna.


Minsan ang sarap mawalan ng pakialam, ng pakiramdam.
Yung mamuhay na parang dumaan ka lang.
Ang sakit magmahal tapos sasaktan ka lang.
Ang sakit magmahal tapos iiwan ka lang.

Di ako galit sayo.
Di kita papa salvage sa kanto.
Di ko ipagkakalat kung san kiliti mo.
Gusto ko lang mabawasan yung sakit na nararamdaman ko.
Kasi isang taon na, ikaw pa rin laman ng poetry page ko.

Sana isang beses makita ko na lang na masaya na tayo pareho.
Yung tipong pag naalala kita, nakangiti ako nagkekwento.
Ang hirap nga pala talagang kalimutan.
Yung minsan may taong kumilala sayo bukod sa sarili **** magulang.

Ang hirap umasa na may dadating pang iba.
Ang sakit na kasi nung minsang binigay mo yung puso mo sa kanya pero iniwan ka din nya.
Kanya kanyang dahilan, kanya kanyang pinaglalaban.
Kung di din naman tayo magkasama sa huli bakit kailangan pa natin pagusapan.
Nalulungkot ako, di ko itatanggi.
Pakiiwasan mo na lang mag post na masaya ka palagi.
Matagal pa siguro to maghihilom.
Nakakaawa yung susunod kasi naka kandado na yung puso kong mamon.
Yun ay kung meron pang susunod.
Waiting for the healing.
And now, as Dawn rose from her couch beside Tithonus—harbinger of
light alike to mortals and immortals—the gods met in council and with
them, Jove the lord of thunder, who is their king. Thereon Minerva
began to tell them of the many sufferings of Ulysses, for she pitied
him away there in the house of the nymph Calypso.
  “Father Jove,” said she, “and all you other gods that live in
everlasting bliss, I hope there may never be such a thing as a kind
and well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern equitably. I
hope they will be all henceforth cruel and unjust, for there is not
one of his subjects but has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled them as
though he were their father. There he is, lying in great pain in an
island where dwells the nymph Calypso, who will not let him go; and he
cannot get back to his own country, for he can find neither ships
nor sailors to take him over the sea. Furthermore, wicked people are
now trying to ****** his only son Telemachus, who is coming home
from Pylos and Lacedaemon, where he has been to see if he can get news
of his father.”
  “What, my dear, are you talking about?” replied her father, “did you
not send him there yourself, because you thought it would help Ulysses
to get home and punish the suitors? Besides, you are perfectly able to
protect Telemachus, and to see him safely home again, while the
suitors have to come hurry-skurrying back without having killed him.”
  When he had thus spoken, he said to his son Mercury, “Mercury, you
are our messenger, go therefore and tell Calypso we have decreed
that poor Ulysses is to return home. He is to be convoyed neither by
gods nor men, but after a perilous voyage of twenty days upon a raft
he is to reach fertile Scheria, the land of the Phaeacians, who are
near of kin to the gods, and will honour him as though he were one
of ourselves. They will send him in a ship to his own country, and
will give him more bronze and gold and raiment than he would have
brought back from Troy, if he had had had all his prize money and
had got home without disaster. This is how we have settled that he
shall return to his country and his friends.”
  Thus he spoke, and Mercury, guide and guardian, slayer of Argus, did
as he was told. Forthwith he bound on his glittering golden sandals
with which he could fly like the wind over land and sea. He took the
wand with which he seals men’s eyes in sleep or wakes them just as
he pleases, and flew holding it in his hand over Pieria; then he
swooped down through the firmament till he reached the level of the
sea, whose waves he skimmed like a cormorant that flies fishing
every hole and corner of the ocean, and drenching its thick plumage in
the spray. He flew and flew over many a weary wave, but when at last
he got to the island which was his journey’s end, he left the sea
and went on by land till he came to the cave where the nymph Calypso
lived.
  He found her at home. There was a large fire burning on the
hearth, and one could smell from far the fragrant reek of burning
cedar and sandal wood. As for herself, she was busy at her loom,
shooting her golden shuttle through the warp and singing
beautifully. Round her cave there was a thick wood of alder, poplar,
and sweet smelling cypress trees, wherein all kinds of great birds had
built their nests—owls, hawks, and chattering sea-crows that occupy
their business in the waters. A vine loaded with grapes was trained
and grew luxuriantly about the mouth of the cave; there were also four
running rills of water in channels cut pretty close together, and
turned hither and thither so as to irrigate the beds of violets and
luscious herbage over which they flowed. Even a god could not help
being charmed with such a lovely spot, so Mercury stood still and
looked at it; but when he had admired it sufficiently he went inside
the cave.
  Calypso knew him at once—for the gods all know each other, no
matter how far they live from one another—but Ulysses was not within;
he was on the sea-shore as usual, looking out upon the barren ocean
with tears in his eyes, groaning and breaking his heart for sorrow.
Calypso gave Mercury a seat and said: “Why have you come to see me,
Mercury—honoured, and ever welcome—for you do not visit me often?
Say what you want; I will do it for be you at once if I can, and if it
can be done at all; but come inside, and let me set refreshment before
you.
  As she spoke she drew a table loaded with ambrosia beside him and
mixed him some red nectar, so Mercury ate and drank till he had had
enough, and then said:
  “We are speaking god and goddess to one another, one another, and
you ask me why I have come here, and I will tell you truly as you
would have me do. Jove sent me; it was no doing of mine; who could
possibly want to come all this way over the sea where there are no
cities full of people to offer me sacrifices or choice hecatombs?
Nevertheless I had to come, for none of us other gods can cross
Jove, nor transgress his orders. He says that you have here the most
ill-starred of alf those who fought nine years before the city of King
Priam and sailed home in the tenth year after having sacked it. On
their way home they sinned against Minerva, who raised both wind and
waves against them, so that all his brave companions perished, and
he alone was carried hither by wind and tide. Jove says that you are
to let this by man go at once, for it is decreed that he shall not
perish here, far from his own people, but shall return to his house
and country and see his friends again.”
  Calypso trembled with rage when she heard this, “You gods,” she
exclaimed, to be ashamed of yourselves. You are always jealous and
hate seeing a goddess take a fancy to a mortal man, and live with
him in open matrimony. So when rosy-fingered Dawn made love to
Orion, you precious gods were all of you furious till Diana went and
killed him in Ortygia. So again when Ceres fell in love with Iasion,
and yielded to him in a thrice ploughed fallow field, Jove came to
hear of it before so long and killed Iasion with his thunder-bolts.
And now you are angry with me too because I have a man here. I found
the poor creature sitting all alone astride of a keel, for Jove had
struck his ship with lightning and sunk it in mid ocean, so that all
his crew were drowned, while he himself was driven by wind and waves
on to my island. I got fond of him and cherished him, and had set my
heart on making him immortal, so that he should never grow old all his
days; still I cannot cross Jove, nor bring his counsels to nothing;
therefore, if he insists upon it, let the man go beyond the seas
again; but I cannot send him anywhere myself for I have neither
ships nor men who can take him. Nevertheless I will readily give him
such advice, in all good faith, as will be likely to bring him
safely to his own country.”
  “Then send him away,” said Mercury, “or Jove will be angry with
you and punish you”‘
  On this he took his leave, and Calypso went out to look for Ulysses,
for she had heard Jove’s message. She found him sitting upon the beach
with his eyes ever filled with tears, and dying of sheer
home-sickness; for he had got tired of Calypso, and though he was
forced to sleep with her in the cave by night, it was she, not he,
that would have it so. As for the day time, he spent it on the rocks
and on the sea-shore, weeping, crying aloud for his despair, and
always looking out upon the sea. Calypso then went close up to him
said:
  “My poor fellow, you shall not stay here grieving and fretting
your life out any longer. I am going to send you away of my own free
will; so go, cut some beams of wood, and make yourself a large raft
with an upper deck that it may carry you safely over the sea. I will
put bread, wine, and water on board to save you from starving. I
will also give you clothes, and will send you a fair wind to take
you home, if the gods in heaven so will it—for they know more about
these things, and can settle them better than I can.”
  Ulysses shuddered as he heard her. “Now goddess,” he answered,
“there is something behind all this; you cannot be really meaning to
help me home when you bid me do such a dreadful thing as put to sea on
a raft. Not even a well-found ship with a fair wind could venture on
such a distant voyage: nothing that you can say or do shall mage me go
on board a raft unless you first solemnly swear that you mean me no
mischief.”
  Calypso smiled at this and caressed him with her hand: “You know a
great deal,” said she, “but you are quite wrong here. May heaven above
and earth below be my witnesses, with the waters of the river Styx-
and this is the most solemn oath which a blessed god can take—that
I mean you no sort of harm, and am only advising you to do exactly
what I should do myself in your place. I am dealing with you quite
straightforwardly; my heart is not made of iron, and I am very sorry
for you.”
  When she had thus spoken she led the way rapidly before him, and
Ulysses followed in her steps; so the pair, goddess and man, went on
and on till they came to Calypso’s cave, where Ulysses took the seat
that Mercury had just left. Calypso set meat and drink before him of
the food that mortals eat; but her maids brought ambrosia and nectar
for herself, and they laid their hands on the good things that were
before them. When they had satisfied themselves with meat and drink,
Calypso spoke, saying:
  “Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, so you would start home to your
own land at once? Good luck go with you, but if you could only know
how much suffering is in store for you before you get back to your own
country, you would stay where you are, keep house along with me, and
let me make you immortal, no matter how anxious you may be to see this
wife of yours, of whom you are thinking all the time day after day;
yet I flatter myself that at am no whit less tall or well-looking than
she is, for it is not to be expected that a mortal woman should
compare in beauty with an immortal.”
  “Goddess,” replied Ulysses, “do not be angry with me about this. I
am quite aware that my wife Penelope is nothing like so tall or so
beautiful as yourself. She is only a woman, whereas you are an
immortal. Nevertheless, I want to get home, and can think of nothing
else. If some god wrecks me when I am on the sea, I will bear it and
make the best of it. I have had infinite trouble both by land and
sea already, so let this go with the rest.”
  Presently the sun set and it became dark, whereon the pair retired
into the inner part of the cave and went to bed.
  When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Ulysses put
on his shirt and cloak, while the goddess wore a dress of a light
gossamer fabric, very fine and graceful, with a beautiful golden
girdle about her waist and a veil to cover her head. She at once set
herself to think how she could speed Ulysses on his way. So she gave
him a great bronze axe that suited his hands; it was sharpened on both
sides, and had a beautiful olive-wood handle fitted firmly on to it.
She also gave him a sharp adze, and then led the way to the far end of
the island where the largest trees grew—alder, poplar and pine,
that reached the sky—very dry and well seasoned, so as to sail
light for him in the water. Then, when she had shown him where the
best trees grew, Calypso went home, leaving him to cut them, which
he soon finished doing. He cut down twenty trees in all and adzed them
smooth, squaring them by rule in good workmanlike fashion. Meanwhile
Calypso came back with some augers, so he bored holes with them and
fitted the timbers together with bolts and rivets. He made the raft as
broad as a skilled shipwright makes the beam of a large vessel, and he
filed a deck on top of the ribs, and ran a gunwale all round it. He
also made a mast with a yard arm, and a rudder to steer with. He
fenced the raft all round with wicker hurdles as a protection
against the waves, and then he threw on a quantity of wood. By and
by Calypso brought him some linen to make the sails, and he made these
too, excellently, making them fast with braces and sheets. Last of
all, with the help of levers, he drew the raft down into the water.
  In four days he had completed the whole work, and on the fifth
Calypso sent him from the island after washing him and giving him some
clean clothes. She gave him a goat skin full of black wine, and
another larger one of water; she also gave him a wallet full of
provisions, and found him in much good meat. Moreover, she made the
wind fair and warm for him, and gladly did Ulysses spread his sail
before it, while he sat and guided the raft skilfully by means of
the rudder. He never closed his eyes, but kept them fixed on the
Pleiads, on late-setting Bootes, and on the Bear—which men also
call the wain, and which turns round and round where it is, facing
Orion, and alone never dipping into the stream of Oceanus—for Calypso
had told him to keep this to his left. Days seven and ten did he
sail over the sea, and on the eighteenth the dim outlines of the
mountains on the nearest part of the Phaeacian coast appeared,
rising like a shield on the horizon.
  But King Neptune, who was returning from the Ethiopians, caught
sight of Ulysses a long way off, from the mountains of the Solymi.
He could see him sailing upon the sea, and it made him very angry,
so he wagged his head and muttered to himself, saying, heavens, so the
gods have been changing their minds about Ulysses while I was away
in Ethiopia, and now he is close to the land of the Phaeacians,
where it is decreed that he shall escape from the calamities that have
befallen him. Still, he shall have plenty of hardship yet before he
has done with it.”
  Thereon he gathered his clouds together, grasped his trident,
stirred it round in the sea, and roused the rage of every wind that
blows till earth, sea, and sky were hidden in cloud, and night
sprang forth out of the heavens. Winds from East, South, North, and
West fell upon him all at the same time, and a tremendous sea got
up, so that Ulysses’ heart began to fail him. “Alas,” he said to
himself in his dismay, “what ever will become of me? I am afraid
Calypso was right when she said I should have trouble by sea before
I got back home. It is all coming true. How black is Jove making
heaven with his clouds, and what a sea the winds are raising from
every quarter at once. I am now safe to perish. Blest and thrice blest
were those Danaans who fell before Troy in the cause of the sons of
Atreus. Would that had been killed on the day when the Trojans were
pressing me so sorely about the dead body of Achilles, for then I
should have had due burial and the Achaeans would have honoured my
name; but now it seems that I shall come to a most pitiable end.”
  As he spoke a sea broke over him with such terrific fury that the
raft reeled again, and he was carried overboard a long way off. He let
go the helm, and the force of the hurricane was so great that it broke
the mast half way up, and both sail and yard went over into the sea.
For a long time Ulysses was under water, and it was all he could do to
rise to the surface again, for the clothes Calypso had given him
weighed him down; but at last he got his head above water and spat out
the bitter brine that was running down his face in streams. In spite
of all this, however, he did not lose sight of his raft, but swam as
fast as he could towards it, got hold of it, and climbed on board
again so as to escape drowning. The sea took the raft and tossed it
about as Autumn winds whirl thistledown round and round upon a road.
It was as though the South, North, East, and West winds were all
playing battledore and shuttlecock with it at once.
  When he was in this plight, Ino daughter of Cadmus, also called
Leucothea, saw him. She had formerly been a mere mortal, but had
been since raised to the rank of a marine goddess. Seeing in what
great distress Ulysses now was, she had compassion upon him, and,
rising like a sea-gull from the waves, took her seat upon the raft.
  “My poor good man,” said she, “why is Neptune so furiously angry
with you? He
At once at the top of the Estinfalos, Marie des Vallées avoided all of them being injured and being swallowed by the strait. The bronze birds with great vigor avoided being part of the vast shore that hit them as Nephelleidae Helles. Here they were compelled by the Myth Frixo and Hele, in the process of their sacramentals. They took the assignments before running with the same fate as the children of Atamante and Nephele. Ino the second wife of Atamante wanted to get rid of them by burning the grain so as not to have crops. This is where the soul of the Herophilus Sybilla appears to them, consulting the Oracle of Delphi. The Children of Atamante were destined to be sacrificed, being Nefeles who sent a Golden Ram, the children were saved by climbing Ram's spine, taking him away from the executioners. When Heles was going to a great height he looked towards the sea that caused him vertigo, falling into the sea in its celestine waters, remaining from this instance with the patronymic Hellespont. His brother, Phryxus, clung tightly to his back and arrived safely at Colchis. Marie could see some Gerakis and then react in search of Heles, taking time to decide and enter. It was only a few hours before dusk, and the lacerated seventy were lowered from the Stymphalos to cross the waters in search. Marie joined the bronze birds with the interaction ratio of all the times that they would intertwine in the lines showing exploration, supplying what Theus and Vikentios did to grow in number, and with all the occurrences that occurred for the contemporary coincidence of thousands of years, for the current figure of millions of light-years that reacted towards the sky crashing in everything that a maximum roof allowed, and then allowed them to be in the interaction when crossing the Sea of Heles, where she always was, only being diverted by the bronze birds from above, and only being tangible by Marie's conscience when she saw that she had never fallen from the Golden ram, but had been only a weightless creature among the clouds of her mother Nephele, hanging around her neck some remarkable telesomatic beings sent by herself, in egregious tributes to her most adorable daughter. She subsequently falls into the sea, unblemished that Vernarth would go to rescue her from her. The Lacerates, Theus, and Vikentios gathered in the circular area of the Gerakis, leading them to the ancient Phrygian city of Dardania. The crowded currents of the celestial realm became ocean currents that lifted Heles's living body as Gerakis with her wings signaled to the Stymphalos to grasp her with precision. Silently the psyches of the bodies of the Trojan War were able to make Heles's rampage measurable, doing Vernarth's medication at a distance with Heles when her death throes accused her rejection of the balsamic intentions of Marie des Vallées. Then is she resorts to the bilocation of Vernarth managing to see from the surface the reckless surface of the sea, seeing a figure with a snowy white outfit and also a light blue tunic, in addition, she wore a crown of cocoons as a Diadema.

Nothing made it possible to presume that quantum was not bending in kilometers that separate Patmos and the Sea of Heles when this sacred figure was sighted that was glimpsed as psychosomatic physiology, for the good of the Second Age that Vernarth brought for them, noting that it was Bernardette Soubirous, which became immediate like a Benedict Akashic field. The small and large units of Massabielle's universe were pointed out from where this quantum elitrophic wave came, with living palpitations of Heles granting the inquiry of her by convulsions of his brain with small akashic vibrations before falling into the icy Sea. Non-local logic became arcane before this telepathic event, and the figure of Bernadette notified them by its coherence of subtle connection, that lately the light that she carried when she escaped from Ino will be rekindled, with the oblation for her was subordinating her, and that it would be supremely since there from where they would uproot her and then free her from the Akashic field from minor to major storm, where Marie des Vallées would let them know that she was safe. This space was already local, but it was detached from the terminal that made it originally from it for the connections of having it already on Patmos so as not to have to be transported by the Stymphans. Everything happened synchronously in unison, after the transpersonal boundaries of consciousness that were united among all to free it from these bonds in the freshness in Heles. All the micro-dimensional organisms became more than clairvoyant with the endowments of the falls and the uprisings after the rescue of Heles by Vernarth and the Akashic fields, applying the material field that was transposed in great extensions of material-immaterial time, before the immanent Electromagnetic gravitationally that could only be seen, heard and probed by Vernarth when he was meditating between the hemispheres of Aullós Kósmos, justifying nth parapsychologies where space is not empty and does not have a percentage mass in this case, and what has been called the quantum vacuum is in fact a cosmic plane (Akasha). Thanks to this information, it was conserved and transferred by the Akashic field, from the coherent universe of Heles, where it could be reconverted into a Sub Mythological being, thanks to a superhuman being happening at the site of the Dardanelles and which will also take place in another place in Patmos.

Marie des Vallées says: “everything that happened in one period also happened in the following times here at the Hellespont. Nothing was local, nor limited to where and when it happened. All things are integral, cosmic because everything is connected and the memory of all things extends to all places and times. Here is Vernarth who is the object and subject of his umpteenth parapsychologies, which are the replica of the joyous songs of Bernadette Soubirous's Rosary "

Vernarth sensing that Heles was in frank danger of life, mounts Alikantus and heads for the Strait of Dardanelles. Here he manages to specify that it was compared with the anachronism of the Bronze Birds, who had sailed through the upper Dodecanese, then over the Marmara counterclockwise from Kairos, meeting again with the Helladic period. Here it spread over Hellen; with the eponymous hamlet that boasted of the Stymphalos, as a coerced premonition in the pre-Helladic, towards the end of the Bronze Period. Thus, with this changeable phenomenon, Vernarth was directed, while he flew in the seconds of Kairos time as a symbol of subsisting in each deleterious life, almost with the powers of not getting intoxicated with any substance transited by the sea of the strait. Here Vernarth went to Alikantus, being this one from Thessaly and Sudpichi, right here among them Kanti appears with Etréstles, they came to tone up the survivals that would bear Heles after recreating the two great Ionic and Doric hydric colonnades. While Alikantus being of Cretan, the roots he had to emit breaths from the Eighth Cemetery of Messolonghi to revive the colonnades, to separate the waters and molecules that increased in density to move Heles from the depths of the ocean. Kanti was a super steed, he plunged under the Marmara, like a tiny sea to leave the waters of the Black Sea from one of the abutments of some seams of some Achaeans, which were disengaged from the seas that joined them. In this instance, the Helén together with Vernarth continued to release the ropes of a great Kizara that Nefeles had woven for her daughter, from here from the dean cloud and from the distress where she freed herself to go to her Gaugamellian aid. The Kizara was a Eurythmic wire rope, therefore its sound elucidated the sea and its celestial kingdom, magnifying and complicating Poseidon in the sea that actually resembled the sky. Therefore, Heles was with his ethnonym Hellespont who snatches her and redirects her to Helén, which was similar to her name, in such a way that the sky was embroiled by the point, from Helén by Heles creating the watery element of the Flood of Heles that was retracted by the impetus of Kanti and Alikantus when Vernarth increased with all his vivification when he saw her near the shaft of the Doric colonnade, organizing the waters that would rise from the susceptible Heles wrapped in a Himation that Vernarth had dispensed near the Vas Auric.
Nefheles
70 anyos ka don gakabuhi
Sugod sang mabun-ag diri tubtob nagradwar sa UP
Halin sang magkapamilya asta sa pulitika ginpili

43 ka tuig ka don nga pulitiko
Nagserbisyo sg mayo kg wala eskandalo
Ang ngalan malimpyo kg palangga sg tawo

32 anyos don ang buluthuan nga imo ginpatindog
Ang CapSU-Dumarao nga padayon nagapanikasog
Madamo na ka beses nga ginbagyo kg ginlinog

20 ka gobernador na sang ikaw magpungko
Ugaling ikaw guid ang may nabuligan sg damo
Gani para sa akon ikaw ang “Kampeon sg mga Capizeño”

13 ka president don ang imo naagyan
Sugod sa ti-on sg ikaduha nga digmaan
Asta sa ti-on sg tadlong nga dalan

2 na ang binalaybay nga halad ko sa imo
Kay ikaw indi guid madula sa akon painu-ino
Gob. Tanco, ikaw sa guihapon ang akon idolo!

1 duman ini ka maragtason nga ti-on
Kay ang Amay sg CapSU-Dumarao ara sa guihapon
Nagbuylog kg nagtambong sa amon pagtililipon!

-10/14-15/2014
(Dumarao)
*for Gob. Tanco’s 70th Birthday
My Poem No. 270
Mike Virgl May 2017
INO
Call out to the last one
Open concession
Dumbly, look for the sun
Young man's succession
Listen to the air speak
Inert confession
Vacant tears start to leak
Enough is a lesson
Start to fix yourself, brother
This is the first of a two part poem, the next poem is Dear, Friend of mine
A somber family crowds around a frail body;
greying hair, bruised skin, and blue in the face;
Struggling for air as the beeps start to get quiet.
Her favorite music is playing beside her,
intermingled with the choked sobs of her children.
They line the bed along with their dad,
holding onto her limp hands;
playing with the tangles of her hair.
Her husband strokes her head and whispers the words of "their" song ino her ear.
It's quiet, aside from the music and the sniffles.
Amazing grace begins to play,
and her two daughters start to sing to their mother.
It brings tears to mine and everybody's eyes.
Her labored breathing slows somewhat.
As the choir picks up in the end of the song,
a vision floats behind my eyes.
I see this woman dying in front if me, but I see her differently.

She is standing in a white dress, her hair no longer grey, but instead restored to its fiery red.
The skin isn't pulled tight across her bones;
but full and warm and healthy.
She smiles a smile that floats in her eyes;
and she's singing along with the choir.
God's light surrounding her as she enters into His Kingdom.


The vision is gone as quickly as it came.
But I smile a little because I know she's not suffering anymore.
After a few more minutes, her heartbeat has come to a stop.
Shouts of "Praise God!" rise into the air.
And I know,
that she is finally home.
Rest in peace grandma. I know that you are finally safe.
PEARL SMOKE Sep 2014
Didn't matter at First,
Easy to put down and walk the road
That Was iN The Beginning.
Around the Time iBegan taking Small Doses.
iFell inlove As iKept Consuming
Was Set To not let it go.
iGot Hooked on this Crystal postion
My Life Began Taking Twisted Footsteps.
By Time My Happiness, Smile, laugh, Charm And big heart faded.
iNo Longer Felt Nothing.
Numbness All Around Me.
TickTock The Clock And Consumption Changed me.
Cold Hearted, hatred in The Eyes Believed The Sober Truth As Lies.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
pre-scriptum: zapisałem sie... jutro wyśle zdięcia... fatalnie zakochany w tych grotach.

jak by mnie myślnym / myśliwym tokiem myśli nie chcieli równać z sobą to bym odmówił, lecz nadali film wedle Sokratesa, a ja Anglikom odmówie, bo chcem, nawet po kurz Mongolii, mam dość tępych Irlandczyków! przeciąg mnie dusi! te wyspy to wyryty gnój Ameryki.

te zdzięcia zbyt kuszaące - jak już powiedziałem pewnej dziewczynie na internecie... nie sprzedam mojego głosu jeżeli mi nie zaplacą! a nic nie dali, jeno gówno! to powiem je w gromadzie takich co mówią na migi - jak ten co z pochodnią na wejście smoka a poszedł trysta razy! zapominieć mówienia po polschu (ja niby Żyd, w Buenos Aires? no, niby post-Holocaust, to takie tango a nie tanz Bar Mitzvah w aleii Golders Green) - jak jedna: wiem skąd burak jest jak niby pochodnią nad ziemi chwytem w otchłan piękna i stokrotki... czyli: co jabłoń da, to róża odbierze, piękno niby było jadalne, a owoc ten jadalny był pięknem, który nigdy nie odda cierpieniu zacmienia, a jednak ponownie, ponownie, ponownie; jednak nadal w wstecz na gre: ojczyzna! ojczyzna! z agrafką po to by odnaleść tą sfobodną szlachte naszego rozbroju: co znaczy życie nasze a ich jeno kichnięńciem, księcia, ktoóry ksiądz imitacją ochlał wedle vino veritas!

kurwa! kartoflana gleba tłumaczenia Joyce'a!

Londyn to ino klejnot Arabii, tu nic nie rośnie, jeno głab czyli muzg kapusty, to znaczy oklask Mensa... nie?!

te zdzięcia i ja to jak ramie w ramie ze złudną imprezą za tą Ostanią
czyli mortum fatali

jak Narcyz wpatrzyłem sie w nie i myśle by nawiać na wyspy Owcze czy też Mongolie, zdala z tej lachy "swiata" i ludobójstwa ekonomicznego, wkoło mnie tylko wieprz gra na wiolonczeli, i tak dobrze gra że motłoch nie zna falszu od falsetto, jeno udaje na tle cytatu psa mówiącego: sausages! sausages! how! how!

więc wole w tych lochach odbytem powiedzieć co Zachód zna jako rękopis mojej zdrady, bo ja tu następnej i tej cholernej minuty wole w Syberie gnać, z duchem czy bez ducha... Gangrene Green... mysli tu jakiś z Essex'u tuman że Rzym odlalazł bez akcentu na literach; bo tu każdy pyta czy jest szalony czy tylko napisał Alicja w Kraine Czarow i Pedofilii.

post-scriptum: czemu nie piszom Řešów? bo im škoda? Wojewoda Prostanoga ptija - bo to po Ruszku pyta... a cygan... to znacy chyba. Holender i stare smieci... ale boli kiedy powrót stanowi więcej niż tempus lux.
carla goldie Nov 2013
no 1 day you'll tell me what i did that was so bad,the reason you destroy all the things ive ever had,but i dont mean possessions the materiel things iv got,id give them up in seconds in fact just take the fucken lot,im talken about emotions the things i feel inside now iv become an expert an no wheres best 4 me 2 hide,ino when ur approaching when ur ready to attack,i see it in ur eye once so blue have now turned black.you use to be my hero my rock my shining star now i dont even no u an **** nos just what u are,i see u in my nightmares i fear u in my sleep i never could have known my hate for u cud run so deep.u took all i believed in the only life iv ever known the trust,the strength,the safety all the love iv ever shown an made it somethin ***** it felt twisted even sick,u played with my emotions like some vile party trick ,well now its time to tell u i suggest u keep ur fight cause i no longer fear u wen my days turn into night....
my everyday life
a prisoner in his cell was in there doing time
paying for his sins and paying for his crime
he was on death row staring at the clock
waiting for his time as he heard it tock
then came in the pardrea to say his last farewell
reading from the bible while he was in the cell
time was running out it was  time to end
soon he would be going to where his sins would mend
he walked ino the chamber where is life would cease
then on his way to heaven where he could rest in peace
carla goldie Aug 2014
Please can someone help me this pain I can not bare,there's no one else around me an would they even care,years Ino it's been there buried deep inside,now I no your gone it's too much for me to hide.  I knew that you were sick big ga u fought it everyday an when I went to see u I was sure u were ok,  I need to say I'm sorry I never got to say goodbye but how could I upset u I couldn't let you see me cry.  I thought ud live forever always so big an strong to think u wouldn't b here I said everyone was wrong but the times come to accept tha they were rite an now your gone I understand the pain I feel and now no were it's from, it's because I lost my hero he seen the grey in me said that I was different knew how special I would be,I wish I could ave seen u just once more to say goodbye I have to tell you honestly my big ga could never die,and that's the way I keep it in my head you didn't die so no reason 4 any upset an no excuse for me to cry,so ga if it's ok with you the time just isn't rite I don't think that I'm ready so for now it's just goodnight I will always keep you with me in everythin I do because that's what makes me special the greyest parts of me are you      Goodnight big ga ***
Mary Pear Jul 2016
Sometimes the walls and windows of my house
Have been just that.
Four surfaces to keep the cold at bay
a pod with gas and water, light and heat:
A small spacecraft
Permanently in dock.
And outside trees grow and flowers bloom.

Just walls, just painted walls
A shelter - just prettier than a hut
and more expensive.
Rushes,l ino or **** pile
A candle , gas or leckie
And giant windows cannot mask the confinement.

The changing tree is home, the birds that come and go,
Sun that oozes, wind and battering rain.
Passing chatter and the train's distant hoot
Paper my walls and paint my doors
Light my ceilings and carpet my floors.
m i a Dec 2015
is sadness the new black?

everyday when i turn my back, i see nothing but pain.

I only see rain, i no longer see sunshine in anyone's eyes.

i look up ino the sky and wonder why,

hurting other people is now somewhat of a trend.

i would like to mend people's broken hearts instead

of shattering them like a beautiful piece of art.

has it always been that way?

is it going to stay like this?

will sadness for ever be the new black?

it would be lovely if i could just throw sadness into a sack.

but i can't.
       i
        c
          a
            n
               't.

**//will sadness forever be the new black?\
eh, im drowning in my thoughts again. This is pretty bad, but eh. <3
Miley Cyrus Feb 2015
To me my iPad is so ****** deadly...
The universe is deadly...Instagram is deadly...
I can't step one foot outside without worrying about man...
And most of all my thoughts are hella deadly...
So if the universe and I are deadly...
Where is does my salvation lie...
Where is the hope...
Deadly thoughts coming to life
I'm alive but feel dead
Nothing I do ever feels enough
...it's like I'm waiting for this grand moment of vitality...
But in reality it's not gonna come to me...
I've got to bring it to life...
Idk like when I go ino my mind...
I see poison...poisonous pills in one of those weekly pill cases
I see a lifetime of cases
Like....
The ****
The days grew longer and the nights colder, and yet I still amounted to nothing more than the specks of dust gathering in the back of my mind that covers the memories I dare not look upon again. My eyes became weary and after several long years my smile was non-existent and it was almost as if it was never there. They tried to snap me back into a reality that I wanted no part of and I showed them that each time I swallowed yet another mouthful of tablets, but they never listened no matter how loud I cried. They think I am damaged and broken, they think they can fix me, but I have never been more whole nor seen so clearly. I alone see the world for what it really is; a wasteland, and I alone am the only one who understands that it is better to jump ino an early grave than be pushed in by the weight of sorrow, betrayal and heartache. If not now, when?
Desert Rose Apr 2014
Into girls
Ino guys
I like this
I like that
I go both ways
And that's that
Madeleine Aug 2015
Why is this world here?
That I don't know.
Why did God make leaves green?
Or wood creak
When you step on that one board?
Why do we get that special feeling
when sitting infront of the fireplace during the winter?
Why does it bring a smile to our face,
when we see a little girl
run ino her daddie's arms?
Why are we at a loss for words
when trying to describe love?
This I don't know.
Why does it feel peaceful
when we are alone?
Why do we hurt
when a loved one passes?
Why do we grin
when we recieve a gift?
Why do we clench our fists
when we become frustrated?
This I don't know. Maybe some things aren't meant to be known. Maybe when you find out why joyful things are joyful, you loose the joy in them. And that is why we don't know. Why is this? That only God knows.
I'm sorry it's been some time since I have posted. But here is a poem I wrote while in Branson, Missouri. Hope you enjoy.
Savy Aug 2019
Sometimes I wish I was a ****
I wish every touch was the same to me,
That there was no difference between the person extending it for me
That your hand on my back felt the same as any other person's hand on my back
That your smile meant the same as any other person's smile to my heart

Sometimes I wish that you meant nothing to me.
That your shoulder bumping ino mine was like any other tactile stimuli
That it didn't make me feel giddy and special

That it didn't set my heart on fire

That it didn't make me like you more

That it's nothing

That You're nothing
for those advanced in years
a glance ino our closets may actually serve
as welcome help for oft eclectic memories

not worn for many years but well preserved
our clothing from the days of yore
can bring back memories of striking moments

events of great significance
     some of great joy amd pleasure
others of  horror pain disaster
       not remembered gladly

our lives as dressed for some significant occasions
pass review in the wardrobe reminiscent of

     the dress worn for the first date
            another one for graduation
     the first self-bought suit
            in which you had your dinner date

    the tights that made your male friends whistle
    that leather jacket in which you thought
             you looked like Elvis
    a wedding dress  
                a wedding suit
   dark dress and suit for funerals

your life's diversity all in one closet
for you to remember
     and maybe wonder
how you have lived so far
so long
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
what's the difference between
the Nirvana snapshot
of faking a baby drowning....

and the roadsign STOP...
compared to
pearl jam's YIELD...

a cat falling asleep in your bed...
looking up wth the exrpression:
huh?
the **** are you doing,
the **** am i doing "here"?


what? i'm laughing"
but what are you death-defying
laughing with your stare?!
huh?
     pearl jam''s song
Ino way*...
catch the riff?
  **** me... the riff!

the cat start playing a winking
game...
see?
   i love cats... i like to ignore them...
they can handle themselves,
entertain themselves....
   i don't like interference,
one child Chinese state policy child...

open window,
a woozy cat...
          bad compliment?
i love cats...
no leash involved...
i can just nurture them by
ignoring them...

    pearl jam versus nirvana?
sorry...
        pearl jam...
              
then we play eye-spy-woth-my-
lizard eyes trapped in a mammalian
body type of game...
      furry ******* bonsai tiger
type of serpent...

     i get all itchy thinking about
all that excess fur...

             tumbleweed and,
that excess fur dart shorts missing the bulls eye....

****** fold...
thinks my clicking apart the alphabet
is hardly a focus posit of interest...

me?
i'm not a solipsist...
i'm someone equivalent to
the counter millennial movement...
originating in China
with the one child family policy...

   you know this sort of critique
extends beyond the western exclusive
pro-globalist echo chamber?!
you know of the counter
argument?
         you're speaking for
my kind of people...
like i said...
bilingual is the new schizophrenic!

good luck:
      and?
thank *******'re banking on a fail!

you know?
i prefer my cat...
   you, human?
i don't like you...
        i like the machine that
provides minced beef...
  and? you're the prime
ingredient...

             i've bypassed ruination...
what you have...
          i'll happily lap up,
and serve as a berry smoothie...
because?
       you're anticipating
robbing me of my last lineage of
defense membrane....

  you rob me of my last
scoop of canvas worthy expression?
have it...
  it's all yours...
   now let me become entertained...
oh wait...
you stole that "****" from me too...
too bad...
  guess it's all about the,
******* blackout, herr censor,
and...

                  asking for a hand-job
from an zoological orangutan.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
daj mi, ino myśl o sobie,
  i ptaszy śpiew
                   o poranku...
   a od już...
      w twe nieme serce:
                                  rzuce sie!
tylko to:
    od tych kotwic kobiety!
i od tego co:
        przytym,
                   wkrótce przodem:
                          martwe...
niech daje umrz-ec
          (p' kra-in-sku -
                  ni   -yć in alt.?)...
                      jak... i daje żyć...
o kwitek, o piosenke,
               o róże, o kurwa
                        (jebaną mać)! ɫze!
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
to the days when you wake up: mentally exhausted...
everyone else is having their mental breakdown
conundrums:
you had yours aged 21... you aged with...
that ******* choir and the great wind that dispersed it:
no, oh no... no instructions from the great almighty...
just a wind of a voice that dispersed a choir
of: invisibilities... i kept quiet... ran around the church...
lay under the altar... dragged the cloak from it and
covered myself: shivered... switched my iPod on...
then off... stiff the ******* singing...
i had no one to talk to... i still don't...
               oh well... lucky for me this happened back
in 2007... and after 2007? theatre! circus!
but while people are gradually gearing up to their...
ahem: group-therapy session overloads...
i've passed mine... no help: except for the time when
i visited a psychiatrists and: because he presumed
i was white British: i should be given the post-colonial
treatment of: REGRESSION...
false memory implants...
      the insinuation being: i was abused as a child...
sure... yeah yeah... by whom?
me? obviously me... i was ******* by the age of 8...
self-taught... don't know... it must have made sense
since... i wasn't: aren't: circumcised...
a "sword" has a "sheath": no?
               but fair enough to the circumcised crowd...
if their women are... religiously obligated
for a man to loose his ******* "detail"...
the niqab usually helps... blah blah...
           but then i imagine the instances when
a man is circumcised and... boom!
all the frustrations overflow from being snipped...
it's ******* degrading...
i don't need a sack of ******* the size of watermelons...
no... on the throne of thrones...
****... ****... *******... to some...
      venus, cupid, folly & time Bronz(z)ino...
i don't need much... my libido is a hamster and all
i need is a hamster's wheel worth of cleavage focus...
that's it...
    every time i go and visit a ******* i focus
my libido on... two aphrodisiacs...
spells of concentrated exercise: heavily cardio orientated...
and... white wine...
well... and jerking off without having to ******...
so i know where the blood is flowing to...
oh... right... that part...
but glory to be to such days...
mother is busying herself cleaning the house...
while i play the actor of idle...
    i have my bedroom... i have my private
library... only two volumes... only two volumes
of Knausgaard's Mein Kampf left to read...
and no... i will not finish Dickens' the Pickwick Papers:
on principle: from a review...
not that i would ever reread any book i've already
read...
        but... while people around me are having
their apple-pie crumble... i'm riding... slow: high...
slow: though... just... sifting... sieving through the air...
thankfully my difficulties came early:
god, great wind... i don't know...
did the choir descend from on high...
or did it boil from rummaging in the depths of
Hades?! like i said: i wasn't given any: instructions...
hear a great wind... what?! **** against it?!
         *******: become petrified... run around...
ugh... eh?! huh?!
                   i wasn't going to become one of those:
Hyde Park Speakers' Corner nut-jobs...
first: the world would have to reveal... what it was supposd
to reveal... and still i wouldn't do anything...
not after: why do i feel so mentally exhausted
waking up?
oh... right... now i remember...
well... if you go to sleep via: punching yourself in
the head... head's a bit of a mess...
knuckles ache... why am i so disorientated:
lacking motivation... was i fighting someone, last night?
oh, ****... me... or my shadow...
i prefer the idea of my shadow punching me...
or me punching it: but i always miss...
it's all about the thinness of him... i'm too solid...
he's already talking to the Madame of the brothel
of death... silly picture...
so i wake up and start thinking: pretend to start
thinking: i'm already here... so...
thinking is more of an: afterthought...
obviously i didn't just: magically appear:
but i don't have to make that Cartesian effort
of justifying consciousness: to begin with...
thinking is an afterthought...
i didn't exactly think i was going to be born...
did i?
           brain-damage... creative brain damage...
spontaneous: from punching yourself
in the head... giving you a prized plum hue
under the eye... sore knuckles... nice... nice...
i guess... coupled with heavy drinking:
beats any choice for psychadelics:
that ******* mushroom hijacked my monkey
brain! mushroom! mushroom!
mushrooms parasites controlling us!

                  let's be hyperbolic for a little: on a whim...
in all seriousness...
the glory of feeling so **** but at the same time:
so... goo... goo... ahem: good...
well... such days are as follows...
who can say that they "self-harm" by fighting their
own shadow? wrestle with it...
silently scream at it... go! explore the night!
mould with it! i don't need you! fiend!
     well... however the drinking boyo's stereotype
goes... next day... oh man: my forehead
and my cheeks hurt... i must have seriously done
some damage...
        because so much of man in society is
pacified... what?! violence... only as a spectacle:
during boxing? that's it...
and no healthy show of masculinity via the rough
and tumble? well... that's not fun...
     not fun at all... i'd love some back-alley rough
up after a few too many drinks with a sparring partner...
fat chance of that happening...
we'd be immediately caught on c.c.t.v. and the police
would come in and break us apart...
oh the sweetness of a good fight...
     me and Kieran O'Mahoney... just before class...
wrapping my hands round that lard-ball...
punching him in the kidneys...
then he crying about it: he started...
to the teacher and me retorting: shut the **** up:
stop crying...
              because i couldn't just: do what so many
have done... guns... knives...
no no... not mortal combat... just a play around with
fists... teeth... knees...
           *** can't be the only outlet for man's
"frustrations": sure... and i'd love to try painting...
if i had the assets to buy paint, for ****'s sake...

drinking works: up to a point...
but after a while... i need some: grr! some oomph!
some sucker punching bag...
well... at least no one can say jack **** if i'm
beating myself up... ha ha...
ah... ha...
                  
   oddly enough: not oddly enough...
it feels like listening to that :wumpscut song -
madman szpital (skon remix)
and the lyrics... which... this is a Bavarian electronic
project... backwards and forwards
"us" western Slavs and the Germans...

     nie przyjęty do szpitala...
    
       not admitted to a hospital...

             nicht zugelassen zu ein krankenhaus...

ergo... moi...
            the 3Ps extending to...
poets... priests... prostitutes... psychiatrists...
madmen...
   who envision themselves as...
inheritors of the lineage from the Greek Titans...
wrestling with themselves... fighting themselves...
in order to: seek out: vitality...
a life-affirming "gravity": abundance of...
curiosity...
                       ***'s a tease... it's soft...
it's mollusk ******* oyster type of scenario...
it rarely reveals the proper sensation of bone...
sure... sometimes... the coccyx...
the pelvis roughed up... that's not enough...

perhaps all those myths of an Aztec or a Spartan
society were true, or therefore are...
i feel enclosed: entombed: fermenting in my physical
prowess, dignity: even...
just some rough and tumble... some:
a society that gathers on a Sunday and doesn't kneel
to **** off a corpse on a crucifix...
pain one can endure... if one can possess a reality
of also being capable to inflict it...
hell... i'm free-falling in thinking:
but... if i could strain my body parts in a showcase
of violence: rather than the mundaneness of
cardiovascular exercise...
    i'd be twice the man i'm currently half of...
well... more as one: if i'm punching myself in the head...

****... sore forehead... how did i? oh... right...
that's why i feel sore... sore cheekbones... sore jaw...
it's not fair that some men get to exercise their violence
via boxing, or rugby... while i slouch over
a keyboard and bash some thoughts squash-style...
i'm getting in on the action...
     you simply can't just: "translate" everything that's
masculine into an art-form...
you need knuckle-arithmetic: from time to time...

sanity and the boredom that life throws at you
with its decrepit longevity...
best time to start reading philosophy books?
probably in your early 20s... i was... called to the "cause"
by listening to some lectures on Hume, David...
that black swan... induction... falsification... blah blah...
i was hooked... a sort of thought-spotter...
if there is such a "thing": beside the thing most associated
with spotting: i.e. trains... no... no trains here...

the rest is history... beep beep bleep... beep beep...
oh man... just some outlet for violence...
it would be greatly appreciated...
            to feel more sensations than a mollusk's
comforts of: fragility and... pickling itches when
getting a suntan...
            something more than mere ***...
i want to feel... that i don't have an exoskeleton!
i want bruises! life's so ******* boring without...
the fun fright of a fight!
it's stale sourdough bread... it's a ******* crouton!

everything: schematised, systematic,
predictable... orientated... gynocentric...
predominantly centred around: ensuring the safety
of women, children and old people...
well then! can't the boys have their violence?!
no no... not clinical violence...
within the confines of boxing... or whatever other
martial art...
i mean: violent play... just: hmm...
         i can't explain it to a person who hasn't
punched themselves: not myself: my shadow punched
me...
   i just can't...
because it's not the sort of masochism
associated with ******-shaming associated with
ol' Leo von Sacher-Masoch...
                it's... drawing from something Aztec...
Spartan... i don't need no limp **** scenario of
leather, boots, feathers, or latex...
             i just need to fight someone...
as much as i need to **** someone...
my perfect day would include:
a medium-rare steak... loads of pepper...
Himalayan pink salt...
   the meat: no carbohydrates, no salad...
or raw herrings in a creamy pickle sauce...
and then... fighting someone...
and then... ******* someone... then again:
those last two points could be done in reverse...
whichever...

i miss violence... the sort of violence where
you might later have a beer with your opponent...
eh... life's ****... for this particular reason...
pacified... un-gloriously tamed... hibernating:
zoological... therefore: caged...
systematically broken by psychological schematics...
fractions of once whole men.
Ryan O'Leary Oct 2021
Vivisection Las Vegan protested outside
                  The Laughter House where the S had been removed
on purpose so the owners could put a vertical line
                              through it but now it is back and most people
have not noticed that The $laughter House is
                          no different to a Ca$ino insofar that those inside
never get a chance to see through the darkened
                          glass out to the street where carnivores walk by
eating Big Mac Burgers with red sauce that looks
                          like their blood and I for one think this is a very
considerate gesture as there is no need for the
                       animals to be stressed any more than is necessary.
a prisoner in his cell was in there doing time
paying for his sins and paying for his crime
he was on death row staring at the clock
waiting for his time as he heard it tock.

then came in the pardrea to say his last farewell
reading from the bible while he was in the cell
time was running out it was  time to end
soon he would be going to where his sins would mend.

he walked ino the chamber where is life would cease
then on his way to heaven where he could rest in peace

— The End —