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Emanuel Martinez Feb 2013
What are we scared of?

Fending off hoards of oppressed human beings
Of acquisition, of possession, of autonomy, of legitimacy
Never been anyone; why empower them now

Legitimized crucification
No exoneration for grave transgression
Morality of mankind stabbed, under siege, defiled
Integrity constantly bloodily ***** like the virtue of women during war
Transgression, nonetheless, legitimized not by the law of a god or science
But that of a righteous m/an

Bodies without agency traversing into illegitimacy
Becoming illegal human beings
Transgression thrusting them into humiliation
Derailed, deprived, dehumanized
Earning rights to hunger, sickness, homelessness in the eyes of civilized man

Growing global economic hubs welcoming
Illegitimate bodies with contempt, violence, violation
Don't belong, lives becoming expendable, adversary to structured society

Trafficking, dragging, trading disempowered labor across meaningless borders
Nationalists disregarding with much pride illegitimates' desires for life
Killing them after you've beaten their soul, in negligence, extracting the fruit of their labor

Xenophobia killing Japan, dying refusing to open its borders to starving workers
When will a muslim sister in headscarf travel across ALL Europe without discrimination
Be careful America, you're murdering liberty's meaningless oath to the homeless of the world
Preaching the birth of the greatest nation on earth on the backs of immigrants across time
When it refuses to cease the political firing of condemnation against displaced human beings

Greatest plunderers of this world, those who set the rules, guarding their loot
Having had displaced black, colored, and brown bodies across time
Abducting black bodies from mother Africa
Contaminating mother America's native bodies with the corruption of whiteness
Causing mother Asia to discourage its pores from allowing the mobility of bodies

Greatest plunderers of this world, those who set the rules, guarding their loot
Legitimizing their stolen appropriations for the world to see
By excluding those they extract the wealth from
Displaced bodies achieving transnational identities in pursuance of unreachable wealth
For far too long trickled out of their home nations
To build the wealths of the new homes they're delegitimized from

Every country great or small falling in line with border policies
Desperate developing countries much too worried to contain fleeting flocks
Developed and thriving nations too ready to ****** the souls of bodies without agency

World's population imploding
Countries' power structures hungering to exploit the oppressed within their borders
Majority of us peasants, poor, without agency, moving across borders
Everyone's in danger of falling in line with the masses
Or the monopolistic governments deliberately creating monstrous line divides
February 4, 2013
Yes, I'm a girl and I'm not trying to justify my body language nor am I positioning the rights of a feminist on the top, but
Yes, I was questioned always, even when I was right.
Subservience was legitimized as my trait ever since I felt this world.
Every time when I was buckled under by his lecherous eyes, I was asked to adjust my dupatta well.
Every action of mine substantiated the height to which I'll hold the name of my family.
I was asked to cross legs while sitting, speak amicably, yet not solitously.
Every time I'd to hide my period stain like a ****** blot.
I was asked to gallop my cramps because letting it out is a bitter sin.
Yes, I get my body scanned by their lewd gaze day in and out even when I put my baggiest of clothes on.
Yes, I'm a girl, and I have beautiful synonyms, call me maal, patola, bomb, *****, *** or a girl? May be, let yourself decide.
Yes, I'm questioned on the extension of the Roti's that I make and the smiles that I couldn't fake.
Yes, I'm a girl and I'll stand, and question your authority if it calls for, call me stubborn. Okay!
Remember, I'm a girl, and if you accuse me of being a feminist if I know, and can raise my tone up and against your authority, humanism needs to be checked then.
-APARAJITA TRIPATHI
Emanuel Martinez Aug 2013
Being human can be incredibly painful
But to be human...to truly feel like a realized human being
is to feel powerful...is to feel an out-of-body experience
because we realize that we are beautiful, brilliant...
and deserve to feel what it means to
TO BE FULLY HUMAN and nothing less.

That our dreams, our aspirations, and our capabilities
cannot be restricted by artificially constructed restrictions.
And because of that we cannot allow under any circumstance
for the humanity of anyone to be negated.

That every inhale we take without helping legitimize the humanity of one more,
Is further securing the chaos which threatens our own.

That to love another human being,
no matter how strange or familiar, difficult or easy
Is to really understand the profoundness of our own humanity...
Is to love ourselves.
And because of that we cannot fathom a world
Where anyone is negated the ability to love.

Whereby the consciousness of our fullest potential
Understands no artificial restrictions
Knows no terror, war,or attack that can silence the eternal soul of its truth
And can only conceive of a world where everyone's humanity is legitimized
August 19, 2013
Max Reinhart Oct 2012
There's a room somewhere,
locked fast behind an unassuming door
looming grey-brown at the end of a
misshapen corridor.

Inside, the relics of a time lost in time
to time.

A mitt, engraved with the counterfeit signature
of a ballplayer whose name once rang a bell,
smelling of adolescent sweat,
still dusted with sandlot crumbs,
a reminder of those ground *****
that sped by too fast to field,
those fly ***** just out of reach,
suspended in a June twilight
lost to time.

Ribbons and awards and certificates,
signed by leaders of puny regimes
paved and repaved over,
proof of a world before this,
an era of (now) perceived achievement,
legitimized, glorified by Old English type
printed on recyclable stock paper.

Ticket stubs from blockbuster flops,
receipts of a linear plotline:
Drama, comedy, a budding romance -
Temporarily amusing on such a spacious screen
but ultimately unfulfilling;
the plot peters towards the end.

Lost in time the boy cries out
with no one left to answer but the man
who, as quietly as he entered it,
exits the room,
as always, leaving the door just ajar,
enough to muffle the shrieks of a little boy
chasing an invisible horizon.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
of chocolate moons,
dried, well-preserved seascapes,
A-Tisket, A-Tasket
none of which he had ever seen,
understood,
but nonsense alliteration garners
fast and vast attention of the interned masses,
for somehow easier to comprehend
the silly notions of what does not exist,
chocolate moons, dried, well preserved,
museum-quality wet seascapes and word-plays
that require no Hail Mary passes or penitence

so let us rose compose of frosted flaked flowers
of folklorish hobgoblins,
ice cream coated,
of Crunch 'n Munch Sweet Gourmet Popcorn,
a ConAgra "Food" grown only on
Arizona highway-crossed landscapes,
where babies, snatched from above, into moving cars,
taken from, then to, the lost and found
of kidnapped earthlings
are awaiting your reading pleasure

if nonsense pleases,
nonsense scrip'd and delivered,
all we aim for is temple offerings
of what crowd-pleases,
around the tepee fire
we peyote ancestor tales
mostly glorified white men's defeats, legitimized,
ignoring the concentration camp existence and
USDA excess garbage food,
a god, with love, delivers

the components of sewing needles,
a hole and a little sliver of silvered steel,
stitch word worshipping poets into frenzies
of imagined images that cake bake the crowds
with football arena'd pleasures,
their brains all the while,
being measured for a casket,
A-Tisket, A-Tasket,
this poem making
perfect sense to those
who sleep no more
I have no recollection of writing this, but apparently I did.
Megan Leigh May 2015
i do not believe in holding things in.

that is how bottled messages collect on deserted beaches,

how unaddressed letters begin filling desk drawers,

how unanswered questions spill over into one word midnight conversations.

communication was created for a reason,

verbal expression and languages formed in order to allow humans to connect.

when did words become so disconnected,

a way to fill space, a burden, something that has to be done.

when did silence become louder than heated debates,

texts become more crucial than ‘working it out’ over coffee,

media posts become more legitimized than countless apologies for the same god ****** thing over and over again.

who taught us to swallow our inner conflicts and emotions?

who said expression was weak and suppression was strong?

who taped our mouths and allowed our finger tips to take over,

a society of silence and screens?
Arlene Corwin Jul 2016
The Doped Olympics

Why don’t they simply create a new branch
And call it the Doped Olympics?
By the laws of semantics
It soon would come into  language, legitimized:
Youth forgets past.
Soon the word would have lost its original shame,
While the name of the game
Would be guilt-free and blame-free,
And those who would qualify
Could have drug deliverance, muscles defined, bodies divine.
If they dropped dead at forty
At least they’d have entertained millions,
Fulfilled their ambitions,
Made lots of folk rich
And set records untold.
Let those few or many spend hours in training;
Let chemists develop concoctions so new
That the pole-vaulter flies,
The sprinter’s a jaguar,
The shot put is sent into orbits of space,
The long jumper jumps twenty meters
While men become fierce
And the women grow beards,
Which gives all of the chemists new projects to work on.
A yes to the ***** Doped Games.

The Doped Olympics12.2. 2004 revised 1.27.2016re-revised 7.25.2016
Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
The idea came from the recent scandals. But, if you'll notice, it was originally written in 2004.  I never succeeded in getting it into the world then,  But since conditions of sports haven't changed a bit and the technology has, here it is i all it's ironic glory waiting to be seen by an ever increasingly tempted world - a world tempted into corruption.
Michael W Noland May 2013
Its hard to be serious
Around emo *******
Always so furious
To the point of delirium
Screaming and crying
Like nobodies hearing them
But they loud and clear
And i just don't ******* care
Above and beyond
That **** already aired
When i dared to be a man
Brushed my shoulders
And cleaned my hands
Broke up the boulders
And cleared my head
For the next test
And bled for the best mess
I could organize
And legitimized
What i could
But oh what i would give
To be there again
To feel misunderstood
And give a ****
Before this fish on land
Sprouted hands
And demanded
Control of everything
To feel at home
I miss feeling alone and unknowing
I miss being lost
I miss being found
I miss the pain
The moment
Most profound
I miss the sound
Of my heart pounding
When a future lover comes around
I love the nouns
The verbs
The words
Rolling out a lovers mouth
When the block
Was a world
And we hurt
Ourselves for love
Bled for love
Anything for love
For love
Is forgotten
Of begotten imagery
Fading into a city of blocks
Cities in flocks
Flocks in droves
Droves in a world
And worlds
Clumped into galaxies
And everyone
Just keeps getting
Further and further
And further away
Until out of view
Nicole Potter Oct 2013
Astonishing.
                         Amazing.
   How Brilliantly Blind.
How could you see so clearly?
                 Yet be walking,
                                              talking,
 ­                      acting
    With no vision.
                               No direction.
Selfishly stumbling
                               No where.

You got it,
                  head on,
                                  one nail drive.
            BAM
Except not the right words.
              But the cry was evidently heard.
The point made,
                              Message Found Home.

So where the reaction?
                                       Where the care?
As if it matters...
                     Do you even still read?
Am I attempting to communicate with a
                                    Wall?
Either way
                    I'd like to say
Thank You
                     and
*******.

Though which the stronger sentiment?
                  Don't Care.
Whichever makes you feel better.
       I could list all the reasons to
                      Thank,
Shake your hand,
                               express gratitude.
Those uplifting,
                             generous,
Soul searching, and
                                    Questioning
Rise to Self
                      Expressions
That which you do not know you
                        Employ.
       Is Not Deserved.
Would not be
                         Recognized.
                                                Legit­imized.
           Just shrugged off.
                                        Not taken to
                                                               Heart.
So those words exist
                                    as Wind
Whistling through your life,
                                                   waiting for you to pay attention.
Make sense of that noise,
                                        Take comfort in the frigid air.
But you won't.
                           So
                                        I won't.
                                                        Fi­nally.

**Oct 1, 2013
Overwhelmed Jul 2012
it was unreal and
yet not special at
all

I knew what she clutched in her hands
I knew what she was giving to me

it was simple:
the days tip

just seven dollars

but having it in my hands
changed everything

it made my effort real
it legitimized my existence

I had worked
I had earned something
I had no longer needed to doubt

so I counted it
and I counted it again
and I put in my pocket
and can’t bear to look
at it now

what if it’s not real?
what if I overslept and
dreamt it all?

but reaching into my wallet
I see the seven dollars
nestled there
and
stop my doubting

what a day
Arlene Corwin Jul 2016
The Doped Olympics

Why don’t they simply create a new branch
And call it the Doped Olympics?
By the laws of semantics
It soon would come into the language, legitimized:
Youth forgets past.
Soon the word would have lost its original shame,
While the name of the game
Would be guilt-free and blame-free
Free, and those who would qualify
Could have drug freedom, build muscles defined,
And have bodies divine.
If they dropped dead at forty
At least they’d have entertained millions,
Fulfilled their ambitions,
Made lots of folk rich
And set records untold.
Let those few or those many spend hours in training;
Let chemists develop concoctions so new
That the pole-vaulter flies,
And the sprinter’s a jaguar,
The shot put is sent into orbits of space,
The long jumper jumps twenty meters
While men become fierce
And the women grow beards,
Which gives all of the chemists new projects to work on.
A yes to the ***** Doped Games.

The Doped Olympics12.2. 2004 revised 1.27.2016
Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
eleanor prince Feb 2019
let me rant awhile
for what good it may do
to open the valve
if only briefly

for as one wave
after another
of sheer indignity
is reported

survivor guilt
courses through me
yet even this
was not mine to choose

for I don't happen to
have been born
Jewish
or black -

and that doesn't make me
more -
or less -
worthy of dignity

but I can observe closely
what it is like
to be pilloried
and persecuted

for one's peaceful contacts
and communications
holding personal beliefs
at odds with a regime

and a rage
courses through me
on contemplating
'man's inhumanity to man' -

though written long ago
that the world would be so,
where hatred would replace
kindness, love, empathy

I deplore the way
an ideology
of one disturbed,
possessed person

can lead to millions
donning a uniform,
henceforth labelling
one sector of humankind

'persona non grata'

to be mercilessly pursued
in legitimized genocide,
even savaging
little children

frightened lads
caught on the run
made to hold arms
for food

mamas with babes in arms
forced to watch them
dashed to pieces
then buried alive underground

their infant cries still heard
while their mothers were ***** -
as beleaguered, beautiful Estonia
was brought to it's knees...

and I weep and rant
feel knives in my gut
blood pulsing swift -
then take hold of myself

seek to understand,
if that be possible,
even a smidgen
of such distorted thinking

to delve into the mind
of a hateful deviate
for but a moment
and remain intact

so I scan his written mantra
and come to see that
all deeply held convictions
must have at its core

RESPECT

lest it attract the weak
and easily led,
or those forced into submission
seeking to simply stay alive

and they find themselves
taking part
in a forest fire
of polluted propaganda

a flood of merciless
devastation,
while their deluded leader
continues to spout forth venom

in the distorted notion
that they would actually
be acting in society's
best interests

or worse still:
'in the name of God'
(Acts 5:39;
Hosea 4:1-3)
This post was initially placed
at the end of my previous poem,
'mandated thuggery,'
but became so lengthy,
that though not my usual,
tightly honed offering,
I felt it may resonate
with some poets here on hp,
hence I gave it space
as a post in its own right.

You may wish to see my previous post
a poem that was based on these thoughts

I deeply appreciate your sharing
what you feel on reading
either or both of these posts
Many thanks
Eleanor
Rowan Deysel May 2023
community of concerned silence
submerged in beautiful bliss
security through pristine violence
indulging from the precipice
a legitimized and hopeful sphere
where nostalgia is taught
tribes of the disappeared
in collective coffin cot
dirge of docile disconnect
floating in the familiar flow
gleaming life failure effect
reflected from the calming glow
an emptiness we can't describe
with closed eyes and unmade calls
we yearn for a wider inside
even when sentience crawls

a pause in the extremities
the precompiled thought exchange
warm welcome obscenities
ransacked and rearranged
inconstant conversation
with the void of sudden stares
replaced with relaxation
and the comfort of the glare
delightful streams assault the skull
sterile, safe, and bright
depleted and desperately dull
swinging sea of peppered light
the inconvenience is self-installed
the underlying illusion undone
shrink down our huffing halls
the idle universe has won

the enemy is deep within
performance of a billion waves
swallowed smiles and sheared skin
how the happy hive behaves
the veil will protect you
from unintentional dismay
regret imprinted with the hue
of a shrouded gargled gray
surprise of the vibrating static
a pain we all outgrew
signals stuttering erratic
in the calm unending queue
the awkwardness we will away
while embracing tomorrow
we can't escape a single day
of scroll of want of follow

why would we even care to change
we live like leaking taps
neatly cubed nicely contained
clinging to the collapse
the greatest source of doubt
counts steadily in the wrong direction
abandoned from within without
the violent means of introspection
calm comfortable victimhood
moments for the self to shine
a debt distinctly understood
children of the copied divine
the grind has never been as grand
to constantly be seen and heard
the perfectly designed brand
the flashing the absurd

the algorithms all agree
with the incompleteness of your thoughts
what is not yours and cannot be
the gift that can't be bought
the law of things obtained and kept
protected by the shared veneer
in the screams of squares we slept
buoyant in unconscious fear
collectively brushed aside
wisdom warped and blurred
broken rhythms often denied
desynchronizing word for word
the norm and the exception
the youthful smile reign
the stabs of asking questions
in the murmuring mundane

a looming forest fire
roams nervously in the system
flooded in the mirror's ire
both perpetrator and victim
the limbed and headed machine
will do anything for a sensation
the chance of an ideal dream
a simple moment of elation
the monuments of the worst
uniquely ignored and neglected
simultaneously blessed and cursed
meaninglessness perfected
you are the cause of your exclusion
from the well of laughs and joy
you are the smirking intrusion
that our captors now employ

into the hollow depths
we parasites in paradise
preconceptions born in breaths
the humming art in artifice
this isn't how we pictured it
but even stars fall apart
leer in rooms temporarily lit
slump into a fresh new start
the product of the insurrection
ensured in acts of war
a humble impersonation
of the lies we’ve told before
inevitability in the present tense
we comfortably comply
the taste of innate inconsequence
under a slowly sinking sky

vast but empty spaces
surrounded by white walls
severely friendly faces
abundance of eyeballs
a perfect new cliché
wearing thinly concealed scenes
a planet full of time's decay
illuminated by our screens
another day rejected
through the blank pages we pursue
the banal and the expected
from the last crumbling few
the doomed attempt to disappear
not for a lack of trying
and so the final souvenir
is the hard work in dying
Arlene Corwin Feb 2018
Every 4 years I post this, hoping that the message, although lighthearted, will come forth.

             The Doped Olympics

Why don’t they simply create a new branch
And call it the Doped Olympics?
By the laws of semantics
It soon would come into the language, legitimized:
Youth forgets past.
Soon the word would have lost its original shame,
While the name of the game
Would be guilt-free and blame-free,
And those who would qualify
Could have drug deliverance, muscles defined, bodies divine.
If they dropped dead at forty
At least they’d have entertained millions,
Fulfilled their ambitions,
Made lots of folk rich
And set records untold.
Let those few or many spend hours in training;
Let chemists develop concoctions so new
That the pole-vaulter flies,
The sprinter’s a jaguar,
The shot put is sent into orbits of space,
The long jumper jumps twenty meters
While men become fierce
And the women grow beards,
Which gives all of the chemists new projects to work on.
A yes to the ***** Doped Games.

The Doped Olympics12.2. 2004 revised 1.27.2016re-revised 7.25.2016  Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin
Especially aimed at those who dope themselves, yet want to compete
Oblatum - Magnus Volumine

John is defined in the Gospel of him as the disciple whom Jesus loved (cf. Jn 13:23). Thanks to the special signs of predilection that Jesus showed him at very significant moments in his life, John was closely linked to the History of Salvation. The first sign that showed him the great affection of Jesus was that he was called to be his disciple along with Andrew, Peter's brother, through John the Baptist who baptized in the Jordan River and of whom they were already disciples.. In fact, as Jesus passed by, the Baptist introduced him to him as "the Lamb of God" and they immediately followed him. John was so impressed by his personal encounter with Jesus that he never forgot that it was around four in the afternoon that Jesus invited them to follow him (cf. Jn 1:35-41). The second sign of predilection was having been a direct witness of some events in the life of Jesus, which he later reworked in the fourth gospel, in a theological way very different from the synoptic gospels (cf. Jn 21:24). And the third moment in which Jesus himself made him feel his friendship and his very particular brotherhood was when Jesus, about to give up his spirit (cf. Jn 19:30), wanted to associate it in a privileged way with the mystery of the Incarnation, expressly confiding it to his mother: "here is your son"; and expressly instructing his mother: "here is your mother." (cf. Jn 19:26-27).

The sources from which the data on John's life as an apostle, as an evangelist and as "adopted son" of Mary have been extracted do not always coincide. Some sources are more convergent and others are more dubious or apocryphal. From the gospels we know that together with his brother James - who will also be an apostle - the two were fishermen originally from Galilee, from an area of Lake Tiberias, and that together they were nicknamed "the sons of thunder" (cf. Mark 3:17). ). His father was Zebedee and his mother Salome. We find John in the narrow circle of the apostles who accompanied Jesus when he performed some of the most important "signs" (cf. Jn 2:11) of his progressive revelation as a type of Messiah very different from the one that the people of Israel was expected (Lk 9, 54-55). In fact, when Jesus resurrected Jairus' daughter (cf. Lk 8:51), when he was transfigured on Mount Tabor (cf. Lk 9:28), and during the agony in Gethsemane (cf. Mk 14:33), Jesus tried to make them understand that they had to transform their mentality linked to hope into a violent Messiah, similar to Elijah because, on the other hand, he was the beloved Son of the Father (cf. Lk 9:35), he was the Messiah come from the heaven to communicate divine life in abundance (cf. Jn 10:10), and that he was also going to suffer rejection and injustice from the religious leaders of his people (cf. Mt 16:21). In the Gospel of John, Jesus appears as the Teacher who also tries, in vain, to make the Jews understand the paradoxical logic of the Kingdom of God (cf. Jn 8, 13-59). His disciples, on his behalf, are invited to be born again (cf. Jn 3:1-21) to worship the Father in Spirit and Truth (cf. Jn 4:23-24); Jesus prays for them so that they remain united by divine Love (cf. Jn 17:21) and that they are fed by the Bread of Life (cf. Jn 6:35).

During the Last Supper, John had leaned on Jesus' chest and asked him: Lord, who is the one who is going to betray you? (cf. Jn 21:20). John was the only one of the apostles who accompanied Jesus to the foot of the Cross with Mary (cf. Jn 19, 26-27). John was the first to believe the announcement of the resurrection of Jesus made by Mary Magdalene (cf. Mt 28, 8): he ran quickly to the empty tomb and let Peter enter first to respect his precedence (cf. Jn 20, 1-8). Tradition adds that some years later he moved with Mary to Ephesus, from where he evangelized Asia Minor. It also appears that he suffered persecution from Domitian and that he was banished to the island of Patmos. Finally, thanks to the advent of Nerva as emperor, he (96-98) returned to Ephesus to finish his days there as an ultracentenarian, around the year 104.

The Gospel attributed to John was named after Origen. It has also been called the "Spiritual Gospel" or "Gospel of the Logos." His style and literary genre are full of "signs", symbols and figures that should not be interpreted literally. In the prologue of his gospel, John uses refined theological language to show how at the beginning of the New creation, in the New beginning the divine "Logos" already pre-existed; logos meaning the eternal creative Word of the Father, which was later translated into Latin as "Verbum". In the prologue of the fourth gospel Jesus is presented as the "Divine Word", the "Light of life" and "the pre-existing Wisdom of God" (cf. Jn 1:1-18). This gospel invites us to accept, through a faith full of amazement and gratitude, the surprising revelation that the Word of God, which no one had seen, became flesh and has made his home among his people. (cf. Jn 1:14). For this reason, the word "believe" is repeated almost 100 times, because God wants all men to be saved (cf. 1Tim 2:4) and to have abundant life through faith in Jesus Christ, God made flesh (cf. Jn 11, 25).

The Gospel of John also presents us in two very emblematic episodes the identity of Mary and the special relationship of John as her "adopted son" to her: at the wedding at Cana and at Calvary. In the narration of the sign of the water transformed into the new Wine during the wedding at Cana, Mary is shown to us as the powerful intercessor who anticipates the hour of Jesus' revelation to his People (cf. Jn 2:1- 12). On Calvary, at the moment of the glorification of Christ, Mary is presented as the Woman who is transformed into the New Eve or Mother of the disciples of her Son (cf. Jn 19:25-27). If we consider the close filial relationship between John and Mary, it is not difficult to imagine that the revelation of the figure of the Messiah in the Gospel of John has also been nourished by the direct testimony of Mary, since she, better than anyone else, in her last years of loneliness, he collected in his heart and in his memories the "signs", the "signs" and the words of life of Jesus. It is therefore conceivable that the unique experiences that she preserved in her memory, she later shared with the disciples of Jesus, and in particular with John. Therefore, it can be considered that Mary herself also progressively welcomed and interpreted in faith the revelation that the Son of her womb was at the same time the eternal Son of the Father, (cf. Jn 10:30), the only Bread. of life (cf. Jn 6:34), the Light of the world (cf. Jn 8:12), the Door (cf. Jn 10:7), the Good Shepherd (cf. Jn 10:11), the Resurrection and life (cf. Jn 11:24), the true Vine (cf. Jn 15:1) and the Way, the Truth and the Life (cf. Jn 14:6).

The three "letters" are attributed to the tradition of the disciples of John, which also have the flavor of brief homilies. The Apocalypse is a canonical book, recognized as inspired, that was born in the environments of the churches of the Johannine tradition that suffered the attacks of Gnostic doctrines. This, which is the last book of the Bible, uses a literary genre similar to that of some prophetic books of the Old Testament, such as the book of Daniel (cf. Dan 7), Ezekiel or Zechariah. The word apocalypse is the transcription of a Greek term that means revelation and not destruction, as is sometimes thought. John addresses seven letters to the seven churches (cf. Rev 1-3) to transmit to us, through very fascinating characters and symbols, a very concrete message of hope in which the slain Lamb (cf. Rev 5:12), i.e., Christ the Savior will triumph over all persecutions and oppositions of the forces of evil to the Kingdom of God and will make all things new. This will happen when God will establish his Kingdom of justice, love and peace at the end of time. In this book it is shown, with numerous and suggestive symbols, such as the seven seals (cf. Rev 6-8, 1), the seven trumpets (cf. Rev 8, 6-11, 19), the seven angels with the seven bowls (cf. Rev 15, 5-16, 21), the tiring path and the struggle that believers of all times have to face so that one day the building of the New Jerusalem will be carried out (cf. Rev 21-22), today we would say the Civilization of Love, brotherhood and care for life, when Jesus, the Alpha and Omega (cf. Rev 22:13), returns at the end of time. In this sense, the Apocalypse is also a prophetic book that interprets God's action in history, ensuring that the faithful and truthful Witness (cf. Rev 3:14) will return soon (cf. Rev 22:20) and will definitively conquer. to evil, pain, and death (cf. Rev 22:1-5).


Dedicavit

This manuscript is dedicated to Sauter Bernardino Edmundo Carreño Troncoso “ Primum Coniugem Alexandri Magnis ” of the first of the Gamelion of Dionysius of Leneo, to his Adelphos of Etrestles of Kalavrita, to Alexander III of Macedonia, known as Alexander the Great (July 21, 356 BC - June 10 or 11, 323 BC), Leonidas of Epirus, Lysimachus of Acarnania, Aristotle, Bucephalus, of the sixth of Hecatombeon, the month in which the Macedonians called him with the paelative Loios, the same day as the temple of Diana in Ephesus was burned; As Hegesias of Magnesia makes occasion for a presumption, Cassander, Ptolemy, and Hephaestion would become his lifelong companions and generals in his army. Callisthenes, another friend, was Aristotle's nephew. Dedicated to the dignity of Raeder of Kalymnos; son of Etrestles of Kalavrita, especially to Saint John the Apostle, distinguished relatives of the Transverse Valleys of Horcodndising and Sudpichi. Finally to my parents Luccaca and Bernardolipo Monarchs of Horcondising. And all the characters who will live eternally in this colossal Magnus Volumine. “Gratias Ago Tibi Propter Heroismum Tuum Vernarth, Et Doce Nos Viam Messiae” Thank you for your heroism Vernarth, and teaching us the way of the Messiah!

“I must tell you of my great admiration for my steed Alikantus, with which I will come to visit you soon, also to Kanti who have been a great precursor to take you to Athens, Thessaly, Delphi and Lefkandi. You can see that Bucephalus has joined our fight; where the “Sons of Iaveh, have eyes like a flame of fire or Aish, and feet like to go burnishing the chaff of bronze towards Patmos”, which will instigate you for the contrition of Thyatira, under the trick of my Rabbi Saint John the Apostle”


Thyatira

City rebuilt at the beginning of the 3rd century BC. E.C. by Seleucus Nicátor, one of Alexander the Great's generals. It was located about 60 km from the Aegean coast, on the banks of a tributary of the Gediz (ancient Hermos River), in the western Asia Minor. The Christian congregation of Thyatira received a message written by the apostle John as revealed to them by the Lord Jesus Christ. (Revelation 1:11) “which said: I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last. Write in a book what you see, and send it to the seven churches that are in Asia: to Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea.

In this regard, the Lord declared in a reproving tone: “You tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess, and she teaches and leads my slaves astray to commit fornication and eat things sacrificed to idols.” This “woman” was probably named Jezebel because of her wicked behavior similar to that of Ahab's wife and her stubborn refusal to repent. However, it appears that only a minority of the members of the Thyatira congregation approved of this Jezebel influence, as the message continues to address “the rest of you who are in Thyatira, to all who do not have this teaching, to the very same ones who did not come to know the 'deep things of Satan'." (Revelation 2:18-29).

“ Children of Iaveh, you have “Eyes like a flame of fire or Aish, and feet like burnishing the chaff of bronze” toward Patmos that has freed me from your Xorki, how to say and what not to say to you; that my voice has stammered, making me feel that once I flee, I must adhere to the Eternal fire of the Mayim, children of Iaveh, the Mayim of Hydor and saint of water, the Windmill and its sad Myloi, fall on my face ”


Magnus Volumine I    


The Vernarth's intensification of this prosopography as Prosopography Magistri Militum Strategos Typology; he has used the raffle of a History it was not known but it is Vernarth now introduces in Historiography as an auxiliary. The methodological fragment could be torn apart from its screens of a mind enslaved to having to worship a cycle that condemns it to surrender to its loved ones leaving it at the same time to be sectored from a condemnation, to prostrate itself to an Eternal Life its images nor Masterful Words that would have to distinguish the parasciences from subdividing their corporality into thousands of Othónes or Screens, in order to be able to sustain themselves from others that do not compose the knowledge of what is not History; but rather that what happens typical of prosopography allows to obtain visibility regarding the different sectors of society, and the possibilities of their members to access positions of a present that never leaves the power of the Space of a Strategoi, as Time-Space at levels of superior Intelligence subject to mandates of divine Power that oscillates in a mental power of the Militum that coexists with the Community of the Strategos, creating the entire Quantum Band of the antiquity as an omnipresent being par excellence. When its ****** envelope is reflected in its Purgation, it will trigger a presence that governs itself and leads in the trend of a "Duoverse that will only be built in its Unique unity"... given the trend of all crowds that bustle beyond the mass of their Villas or Cities that they inhabit, creating sensations and an unreal genetic world even that amalgamates a large number of generations that only increases its demography based on the autarkic mandate of a history that goes back for not knowing what to imagine of the past and of a future without present that is sustained in a Spiritual Intelligence.

The sociological mutations will be circular, and the retrograde since the collective of images will exceed everything that is sustained on a material floor and therefore it denies that what develops in an empty heart will be a specialized material of a periodicity, that does not spare New Universes that a pillar or support be added that tends to calligraphy better where imagery could prevail all the limits of common language. The grammar of ancient Greece will defend periods that are neither static nor finite, leaving free space for words that are engulfed by vast seas of stagnant bibliographical records never known never written nor destined for a secular record. The Submythology Potential is provided by the entire Belt that surrounds from South America to the Mediterranean as an infinite cord of Eternity to re-hold itself in a matriarchy in the societies of the past to recognize, that femininity is the real genesis of research from where a frequent human origin proceeds, so this it is the transcended in the Universality that transcends in the investigation of the sphere of Unknown History; pretending its ligament of prosopography, and the vivifying instance of Submythology as a unifying entity to summarize the condition of Strategos/Magister Militum we have taken into consideration the situation of our utter information in this existing prosopography works. Parapsychology is subject to a dimension closely linked to non-reflection to even the Primordial Quantum to governs, and governs everything just as this Magnus Volumeni I tries to express the independence of all literary expression if it is about Vernarth, rather it is a documentary space.

Afterward six years of knowing and introducing myself to the area of   Technology, and the Science in the Tourism industry, I made my presentation at Macromedia University, Berlin-Germany. Through this university management I had the option of presenting my concept and avant-garde projects, which condescended me to get to know the E-Tourism Perspectives area of the University of Svizzera Italian-Ticino. This allowed me to meet and join an independent study challenge with the slogan of deriving a full range of analysis, and dedicated study Heritage Sites of UNESCO. All thanks to the agreement that consecrated me at the Pantheon-Sorbonne Université, specifically Maria Gravari-Barbas, Directore de la Chaire UNESCO, Culture, Tourisme / Lorenzo Cantoni, professor at USI Universitá della Svizzera Italiana.

The university has had here in South America, in Chile an intrepid collaborator who has tried to interpret the postulates of the Sciences of Humanity exposing the nature of preserving, and keep investigating everything in the lost history of Europe, which has great significance for Culture that has branched out through the Tourism Technology, and its Digital transformation for this purpose of understanding public life in dissimilar fields that are still hidden in intangible archives, which deduce important material of study in areas of Science, Philosophy, History, Politics, Geography, Jurisprudence that would add to the world of the conservation of the ancestral peoples with all its courageous identity of the Prosopography, and the archaeological demography.

The United Nations Educational, Scientific & Cultural Organization, known for short, as UNESCO is a specialized agency of the United Nations. It was founded on November 16, 1945 with the aim of contributing to peace and security in the world through education, science, culture and communications. The constitution signed that day entered into force on November 4, 1946 ratified by twenty countries. In 1958 its main headquarters were inaugurated, in the VII district of Paris. Its general director is Audrey Azoulay the specialization and search for Culture, Education and Science is a way of contributing to humanity, peacefully granting security through the entire International community for this reason we believe that this work fulfills that prerogative narrowing organically, as been always it is here with the multidimensional epic narrative that is broken down with the prose, and parapsychology other than is a field closely linked to the intrinsic link of all the treasure that has been transmitted for thousands of years, leaving before our expectation what its ruins and works have wanted to demonstrate with their laudable dedication foundations, and expansion of multiple Sites in their musings that have traveled the history of diction of the science of culture, information, communication to create knowledge that this still remains with our reality of society that has the pattern of explosive generation of the current one. One of Vernarth's is the most important premises to create the roots of systematic knowledge, that is to say to provide platforms for their family trees, prosopography and the art of writing Submythological Prose whose the objective tends to occupy the expanded universal literature that has advanced for thousands of years on the other hand, Submythology is free of format cancels many aspects of the temporary format, and creates a relationship link between the academic and the secular attracting infinities of Cultures, historical landmarks, hybridity of languages, and above all merging and re-transforming existences of the post-Classical period; where the source and personal question does not daunt the distances of the inheritable that distanced us by geological-Historical periods, rather it makes the viability of an unexplored field up to now as Vernarth is the granting a hierarchical international value that will retransmit knowledge and skills.

In this way, agglutinating ourselves in those interstices that are not visible, qualifyable or quantifiable, only have to materialize when patrimonial beings are chosen by others who are already hereditary of an industrious will it occupies the supports of a platform of earthly inheritance, and later disseminate it throughout different sectors of the field of knowledge and the research, connoting that there are many variables that could help us interpret the foundations of the UNESCO heritage, today are far removed from communities that want to invest time in inquiring more deeply about them. For this reason, Central and Eastern Europe is at the forefront of generating multi-channels that can ensure the treatment of technological routes or flourishing that want to be found again, such as the Qhapac Ñan, or perhaps the Jacobean Route, perhaps the Route from Patmos to Judah pointing to Vernarth by demonstrating that hindsight could be perfective when visualizing facts that were not witnessed or written as they should be, VG the return to Galilee of Saint John the Apostle in the Hegira to Judah, relegated to Greece by Emperor Domitian. The amendment of such a well-deserved return confirms the wait for an immortal being in the Eclectic Portal for three months, who will mean the ordinary that rises up from the phenomenal investing in roles that many times, as indicated by the dogma of the baptistery indicating that we can be saints and apostles to preserve the patrimonies to educate and retransmit values to follow.

Vernarth Trilogy II at its end, is reiterated in deliberating that this work never ends because each chapter of Paraps, inaugurates a new infinite regressive dimension as it is in the case of Poielipsis; as it is a liquefaction of the parameter of Poiere, and the inverted Apocalypse to make changes after personalities that manage to impact the successive episodes of alteration of Life periods, as in this case Vernarth when he was legitimized to assist Gaugamela by the god Spílaiaus to make the support to Alexander the Great not only for winning the battles but for saving and winning the souls of the fallen Hoplites, generating in them an idyllic prose that promotes and sublimates the possession of the principles of an Apocalypse, that suggests protecting those who should believe without pain of what will await them later for an indefinite death. The Souls of Trouvere will stand out with the bulwark of enthronement of the state of energy that would mobilize Charles the Great by taking him to the platform of conquest of Europe crowned as emperor by Pope Leo III taking the lessons strongly rooted, and letters that would subscribe the cheers where nothing dies in the center of its own fear, because that is where the edge of a sword loses its value that it cannot use the other as an arbitrary neologism of only reigning without the sacrifice that every regime bets on, including the crown when Charlemagne assumed his great legacy at twenty years after expiring later at seventy-two. This is where fears die, not being able to hope or convalesce in concepts of Energeia that vitally moved from the similar aspect to Alexander the Great in the same even numeral but thirty-two, and letters that would be signed by cheers where nothing dies in the center of its own fear because that is where the edge of a sword loses its value that it cannot use the other as an arbitrary neologism of only reigning without the sacrifice that every regime bets on, even the crown when Charlemagne assumed his great legacy at twenty after later expiring at seventy-two.

In another topic, Vernarth after witnessing Stratonice's intermission decides to run at her bare feet for those who banish with their needs on the parental scale of their range, succeeded by Energeia's need for the impudent sense of being enraptured in possibilities, here insulting also the principle of quantum science with the spin of subatomic particles, alembicated in the timeless particles that could leave out of the nucleus the proportion of rotation of time that could be found, and rooting of memories in rectilinear lines of the imperturbable Hellenic mental axis. One could also amend here all the licentious action of Seleucus by Stratonice when she splits the gross threshold of her son Antiochus, and Antigonus I Monophthalmos referring to the father Stratonice of Macedonia for never marrying her to Seleucus. All this generates the Epistle addressed to Vernarth to solve the strident and impalpable of the warlike Diadocos that greatly affected the female descendants, confining them to their domestic avatars in disloyal empires, where these vilifications devastate the imperial partiality through the centuries of an oppressive strength, and disagreement in their moral wrongs. From this quality the coordinate of the Souls of Trouvere that remains in the present, always allying themselves in saviors of oppressed and abandoned peoples who strive in the neologism of the Epsilon or Vernarth's fifth dimension, and not restrict themselves as Aristotle affirms, investigating the entity towards a mono-meaning in this causal of such an alpha that says the paradoxical demonstrating diversity of optics. Prior to this diatribe, Vernarth decides his naturalness that he decides to promote the Souls that are part of both topics to alleviate the potentialities of the acts that are apprehended in the light of genius that coexists with both. What he judged us in the unfolding of his entity and will deliver it by divine intelligence so as not to reduce the free power of the Epsilon that was extracted in the welcoming the presence of Stratonice on the (substitute scale of Vernarth's relativistic emotions). There are few seconds that can be extended more from a selective argument of tendencies in ex-sheets that could be attributed to dimensions of the period of Trouvere's souls, lacking stillness in simulated biological environments.

The dynamics of this Poielípsis is to adorn the Voielípsis as an analogous addition of quantum causality and timeless Christianity, since it supports a conjugate mix deified by Saint Thomas Aquinas heading towards the mainstay in the mega absorption of Christian Aristotelian ideals. The souls will be residents of the indeterminate spiritual mechanics to put effects of the incredulous versatility on themselves, in sub-aquatic depths that coexist with the geological structure of the cavern of Saint John Apostle more than sub-earthly concomitance under the same axial of geological sustaining coordinate. Namely; they will live together while the temple is established except three hundred, and eight meters from its antipode in the underwater base of Prophytis Ilías.

The upholstery of the Pithya Herophile attacks the subtending of the flying buttress that was supported by the cavities of the volcanic rocks of Patmos, indicating its agreement with the Souls due to the disoriented cognitive dissonance that was generating paradigms, which tracked the stones that formulated Aquarian sounds in their dominant tonality due to the minuscule machine of light, more distant in the incommensurability that evaded its eclipsed in the resplendent major note that became monarchical due to the hypotenuse of the rectangle in three subdominant angles. This means that the Sybille was in the high point of observing her premonitions towards the creation that was born from another end to end in the recycling of creation in the dim light of clarity of the destinations that were going to present themselves as a song of remembrance of the Poielipsis, venturing the new restart or attempt of the Delphic oracular. The songs remain in the spell, and in the banal desires that would harm a mortal that will expand to the hypotenuse or line of the sentence that marked a step impelling in the misgivings and forgiveness of the banner of risk. Santiago of Compostela was going to Stratonice with his inclinations, like a geometric racconto subduing the fears that slip through the veil of the dogma of the arch where no philosophy can look higher if it is not allowed, typical of vegetating or freeing oneself from what revives in fears that do not shed light on eternal life, perhaps of a the Matematikoi himself who doubts an Ad finitas basis, and who finds out without the limits leading Pythagoras to the ground handcuffed from Crotona, always ignorant of the linguistic power that urges to rewind the spheres that still weave crossed angles placing themselves in trial, and error when considering a non-renewable past the soul of the Poielípsis adopted a Pythagorean conception in the halters of livid legions of Orpheus, as if it were his consecrated to the hypogeum where the level was to stir the embankment that will merge with Zefian's Arrows.

A diminutive atonal music possible existed in the molecules, and in trigonometric periods in which the measures were united in time as a stationary whole vivifying a great variety of fractional numbers as souls of the same numeral that finally appear to be Pythagorean digits. Vernarth's military of Phalanxes in this epic made the crucial oblique moment to break Dario's troops like a dozen Elegy that was going to re-flower what he knew of his already sub-treated destinations, other than will only be souls tired of keeping themselves alive in their morbidity, and the dissociated causal of immortality that will distance itself from the prohibited abstinences in libertarian exercises of any counting that ponders on the coming etymology of the Vita Pythagorae on the couch of joy, and serving his doctrine that saves himself that will save us in the Messiah for those who in their souls do not have the sacrifice of a lamb that feeds, nor a base that goes ahead in the centuries grazing what no one was capable of. In the second triad of Apollo the oracle of Apollo with the Souls that reveal Charles the Great to be his favorite for the protectorate of Compostela, and his spiritual regency the invitation to Charlemagne breaks out from Aachen after 33 consecutive years in the sword dispute stating that the Saxons never complied with the treaties and signed surrenders. Charlemagne put himself at the head of his army on several occasions to fight with his sword against the Saxon danger, also entrusting the troops to the counts when other matters required his presence in the second concave wasteland, and the straight ascending of the Trouvere Souls crowning Charlemagne emperor of Rome and Francos chosen by Leo III, predicted by the Apostle Santiago in defensive pontifical struggles, and defenders of Christianity. In this paradigm there is a deceased seep through of an elusive world that was joining from here in the vein of Poielípsis for the sake of some eras that came from the mutes, and anonymity that augured to link them to know within their endless intrinsically organic movement, also as a diligent active cosmos of the discovery of the Jacobean route longing to be a better region than the Dodecanese merged by the twelve apostles, and now the brother of the son of Zebedee; Santiago, brother of Saint John the Apostle, ennobled in the 778 AD tying it to Hispania. In ****** and constant fighting, Charlemagne besieged the Saxons, he entered Hispania crossing the Pyrenees as an anticipation of the aforementioned the Jacobean Route, everything worsened in this way witnessing the subjugated places in the jurisdictions of the Trouvers who were Pythagoric elite of soldiers who they had be bilocated in this Christian Era, preceded by this perfidious Basque in the woods subsisting separated right here from the progenitors of the Trouvers, who claimed to be the strongest to pursue them to Pamplona with Charlemagne. Everyone was escaping from Islam, and not a few Christians resented this affront in the dynamics that will reveal the Songs of the French Deed.

This previous paragraph exhibits the eloquence of how the interlining that Vernarth had to create a Brotherhood Code called "Raedus Codex" for the high nomination polished in the Infant Raeder as a twitch of the sacrifice of his young soul, who fought battles in pursuit of defenses pure and free with the freshly grown grass of the spring of the world in Genesis. The Souls in Trilogy III will be the compendium of the Codices that will enter the Wind Tunnel what will be governed by the warm Meltemi wind, and swirled by the winds of Eolonymy, ascending all those who should be admitted and not purging those in between who they enjoyed a pre-Christian heritage citing Pythagorean antiquity behind those who must have dressed it up as a Codex Calixtinus. From this arrangement Charlemagne will drive souls with antiphons, the Apostle Santiago will come lacerated to meet his brother Saint John the Apostle, his barge will be abandoned in the Strait of Gibraltar and then arrive at Santiago of Compostela from here he will make tributes of name to ascend to Patmos. Just as the end of Vernarth's Trilogy II is faithfully transcribed, also Stratonice, the Hexagonal Primogeniture, Alexander the Great, King David Elias, Malachi, Isaiah and all the acquirer flashed in Raeder and his Pelican Petrobus, as self-sustaining defenders of the Infantile Fantasies that they continued in this complex work after a finding that fed them up in Vernarth as well as everything related to their release and investiture to say that all roads lead to Patmos, as Locus Sanctus of all the shepherds who heal their sheep that do not belong to others that are populated with white souls, for the good of other shells 308 meters below the Prophytis Ilias with the consent of Stratonice who would be arriving in Macedonia where the pass of the centuries they would tell them about the Jacobean Route instructed in confrontations, and concordances with the airons of the Trouvere protected by a rectangle of three Pythagorean subdominant angles in dissipated darkness of the golden astrological ambiguity of Theoskepasti of the meridian of the Kimolos. He will go away saying explicitly that the darkness became visible mists where there was nothing to hide from Psathi Roadstead in Kimolos, until reaching the Agia or the Chapel of Theoskepasti that would become visible for the phenomenon of Faith, alluding to a portentous desire that everything was tied to the same sense of compression of which the image or sound of the creation at times to became invisible but precisely understandable, as it was when imagining palpable the reality of what allows the human eye to feel for an instant that everything is real imperceptible, more present of all what can be detected by superior senses more than humans, giving way next to the Raedus Codex more present of all what can be detected by superior senses more than humans.

From Ios or Nios, bordering on Psathi, the Trilogy is unleashed when the association of all the spaced Cyclades of Vernarth will come to every equinox to shine the careful nap of the villagers of the Cyclades, close to the torpor of Thira. It will raise each Hoplite that from the point of Nios drags them with its abandoned body that could never receive the roads that led to Chora in infinitesimal distances and in white spots of all the Cycladic ghosts, who try to exalt themselves and assimilate to the villagers of Psathi.

According to Plutarch, the name Ios or Nios is believed to derive from the ancient Greek word for the violets "Ία" (Ia) because they were commonly found on the island, and is the most accepted etymology. It is also postulated that the name is derived from the Phoenician word iion, which means, "pile of stones". It was called "Φοινίκη" (Phiniki) named after the Phoenicians in the 3rd century when the island joined the League of Islanders it was probably temporarily called Arsinoe after the wife of Ptolemy II. Today the inhabitants of the Cycladic Islands call Nio Island a name derived from the Byzantine era. The name Little Malta, found in traveler's texts during Ottoman rule, is related to the permanent presence of pirates on the island of Latin-script languages.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C382CQNN
Khadija Seck May 2020
you’re not used to this is how you testify?
woe to thee who asked for ease to be denied!
since you’re better than others and cannot believe otherwise
i have no sympathy if that’s your reply
i don’t care if you’re levitating insufferably high
everyone deserves respect regardless of how stratified
kindness isn’t stupid, it’s beautifully dignified
if you can’t see that then you’re unqualified
to be of those I declare compassionately legitimized
if you were truly great you wouldn’t resort to abuses
you’d be who you are no matter how many uses
and while i believe in doing what one so reasonably chooses
my sympathies are immune to your pompous excuses
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2020
improving our collective lives, one pandemic poem at a time...

<>

a stray-dog-thot that bites my ankle,
saying ouch, you see a poem here?

it’s 1:14AM on a Sunday and generally I see at this generalized
pre-dawn, can’t sleep pleistocene period, non-extinct poems
roaming everywhere.

but the pandemic on my mind and giving me pause to wonder
how much can I love, and a questioner-poet needs and desires an answer,
post haste, pre apocalyptic.

S. travels for two days by airplane to fulfill a promise
only to find out, upon arrival, the promise made is
pandemic cancelled.

but the-promise-I-made silently, to her, faraway, that she never heard,
for why, stir-up-the-ruckus, asking for a visit from the evil eye,
if she falls ill, coming back to me, is stone cold stolid, no cancellation policy,
I will:

nurse her, brush her hair, anticipate the achey need normal, before she can ask,
hold my body’s warmth full and frontal, a cooling blanket for heated times,
retrieve her ***** tissues from the floor and make lousy jokes about her lousy aim.

and what I wrote, “improving our collective lives, one poem at a time,”
is here institutionalized, organized, galvanized, mesmerized,

legitimized and lionized,

proving only that stray-dog-thots @nite, they  bite,
hard immediate, and that
later is never better

she would say,
“what would I do without you, my children so far away,”
my reply instanced, nuanced, instantaneously, non-Amazon delivered with a double frosted eye twinkle, no-extra-charge,
“hey! that why I get the big bucks, god’s love to deliver!”

she, a profound atheist, snorts with practiced derision, which is fine,
cause I see the welling, tear droplets, laced with viral virus communicators, smiling weakly, asking, instructing a cure:
“play for me some Janis and some Joni, some Mozart and Mahler, climb in beside me, my old man, let us, let us rock our gypsy souls, drinking a case of each other.”


who could refuse such a invitation... to become the plasma of the sun’s corona, if only for a moment

<>



1:38am Sunday March 15th, Twenty Twentyfold
“For Who?” (an excerpt)

by Mary Weston Fordham

Should dark sorrows make thee languish,
     Cause thy cheek to lose its hue,
In the hour of deepest anguish,
     Darling, then I’ll grieve with you.
Though the night be dark and dreary,
     And it seemeth long to thee,
I would whisper, “be not weary;”
   I would pray love, then, for thee.

Well I know that in the future,
    I may cherish naught of earth;
Well I know that love needs nurture,
    And it is of heavenly birth.
But though ocean waves may sever
     I from thee, and thee from me,
Still this constant heart will never,
    Never cease to think of thee.

__________________________
Mary Weston Fordham was born around 1843. She ran her own school during the Civil War and worked as a teacher for the American Missionary Association. She is the author of Magnolia Leaves (Tuskegee Institute, 1897) and died in 1905.
kfaye Apr 2015
I was wrong then. and now condemned to rewriting the same small repertoire.over and again
until they feel legitimized by their own histories-
I caught you off guard the other day. I told you about my dead ex-friend that I never hated as much as she wanted me to.
you told me it was fine.
cemented all through out
the decades, this living
and the eight hours a day,
debts, bills
and essentials
for sustaining stability
led masses blinded,
resigned to the facts
and engraved in their veins
the blood of slaves.
the man-made monster
to rule us all now legitimized
with man-made laws
that were bent in shape
to keep it perpetually running,
and us as the moving parts
who have nowhere to run
cannot do anything about it.
and all heads can say nothing more but 'tis the way it is'
and are afraid to have their possessions taken
piece by piece
when they have nothing
to begin with.
why is it such an
impossible feat to fair
the system and its cycle?
you see, hear and smell
the oppression,
lives imprisoned
or taken with no
trace of ****** hands
but only for
the greater good as they say?
if i have the ability
to explode all parts of my flesh
before all this,
before our powerlessness
over it,
before our troubled minds,
before our weary beat-up
bodies,
before the people they raise
just because they have
money,
before the unseen,
the unheard,
the unspoken horrors
kept by the authorities,
in the name of the
father, the son,
Nietzsche,
and of the raw people of
the earth,
may my rain of flesh
and the words
that comes along
with it pierce the void
blocking our people's
senses.
Arlene Corwin Nov 2017
Getting Loonier But Freer

Sitting in the bathtub come prepared:
Pen and pad squared off,
Ready for the spinoff
Boring or imploring
Phrase, theme, word
To make inspired this not tired,
Not yet batty lady
Who, in dotage her,
Is sounding more and more like Lear
(not king – the other one)
Using words in play from fun
To pleasure those with fun-ny bone
Or anyone come close –
With dose of looniness and freedom.

Each thought legitimized – seen through her eyes -
She writes as if the script were scripture,
Thought brought down from god-knows-where,
She, prepared to edit if she must,
Every bit writ down on trust.

The paper pad is soaking wet,
Words dimmed and saturate.
Time to get out of the tub,
Dry hair, the ***’
And superficially skin deeply
Watch the evening’s mediocre,
Scary, all too interruptedly TV.
(For TV’s actually for money,
Not for me, or them’s that’s like me.)
Pity!

Getting Loonier But Freer 11.6.2017
A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Bath Book II;
Arlene Corwin
Indeed!
Cedric McClester Jun 2018
By: Cedric McClester

Trump the diplomat
All that was missing
Was his top hat
Trump the negotiator
Negotiated what we
Had before, nothing more
North Korea waited
And he capitulated

They promised to
Denuclearize
But where or when
We’ll have to surmise
Will continue to be
A big surprise
Meanwhile we conceded
What they needed

They needed to be
Legitimized
And we gave them that
You realize
With little from them
In return
Because Donald Trump
Refuses to learn

He considers the summit
A huge success
But in reality
It was so much less
Trump placed North Korea
On an equal plane
But they’re a nuclear threat
Just the same




Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.
The Hoplites were guided by only eleven stars, the twelfth was in the sven tzora flint until the Vernagenesis tessitura, the cerebral plasticity of the warriors made many abrasive connections with their swords causing environmental circles when they were all running in terror towards the roadstead. by the specific slopes of Patmos, when he saw that from the height of the Profitis the subsequent prunings of infinity were released, bringing Brisehal from Dash-e-Lut towards the huge heights, re-pruning all the quantitative scattering of all the troops that were locked in the sea and in the spirits where they were blocked by strengthening some and weakening others, governed minimax that was put on an expedition and that was substantial in the disproportionate brain of the impiety of the Colosso de Sapsila, and a clone of Vernarth that had been erected more than four km high. The magnetic enclosure acoustics made them withdraw into the prefrontal of the Profitis Ilias, distancing themselves from the cortex that managed to differentiate themselves from the colossal walk after a few steps in the front of Brisehal, surpassing the prototypes of an ogre that was instantiated in self-reference by pointing with its index more above his shoulders, where his head reaches the upper border in the lower clouds, creating the phase of bellicose adaptability to intuitively define the complexity of knowing how to reintegrate with his dramatized stature, as he perceives that the basic cognitive characteristics were clouded in the pathology of a Kosmous that was in the final portion of its quarrelsome load, but at the same time remarkable of gray matter that was exalted towards the fifth hell of the Íblis, only confronting them with complexity in the face of all the morbidities that are not suitable to delve further from their own evils that are adverse to it. The cortical of the colossus archaeological specimen of Apsila, complexed the areas of myelination in the contrasting axons of this super being, from the guideline where all the Archangels, Cherubim and Seraphim were found. Evolution advanced with great scrupulousness on its part to show from the heights for those who were only destined to lavish blood that does not afflict them, instead, the colossus systematized its cortical areas to uncomplex what they had to forge after the battle epilogue, to unify Muslims and Orthodox in salvific lines making them and taking them through wastelands of the time of Kairos that rested in the grasses on a gallery of strawberries, where he showed to each side the rattle of the field patronage of Vernarth's myelin axon, signaling to them that he had already been part of the dump trucks that crushed the conical threshold of their time spheres.

After this release of anachronism, everyone looked to limbo seeing that thunder and lightning and electromagnetic volatilizations that became more complex between Vernarth, the Colosso of Sapsila, and Brisehal; the great giant of Vernarth who would wallow on the earth to indoctrinate himself in chemical ablution in the silicas gradually after the heterochronic abscess in both huge beings, who began to notice the apologetic reductions and corpulence to slow down the motor distortion between both, thus avoiding the hecatomb of the Peri Kousmos Patmiano with more than forty kilometers around. The time adaptation means veiled the elemental processes of time, causing full dawn to begin to darken immediately, realizing that the Kairos strawberries legitimized the ephemeral haste that could create a detriment to the epidermis of Muslims. The diplomacies of adaptation became full and basic again in the motor activity of the giants, surpassing the high cirrus clouds, delineating the maturation of the left hemisphere of Kairos, and warning neuroscience in the criterion of the ontological implication that saved the world and its species without reaching a conflagration of the flow, where only the multi-directionality will have to point out the passages that prevent them from the contingent, only approving the shortcuts that awaken the Eruv with the use of divine Kashmar, which would raise them over its charred branches with fragrant gum resin in the opening of the mantle of the Seventh Heaven. The nets would dislocate near some dry streams that were still in the possession of some armories that made synapses in the extreme of those who were freed from the fourth and precocious hyperstimulation of those who had omitted to return together with their loved ones, laying down obedience to a prince who only spoke of the good in the clyster of the Íblis, wanting to carry them on the alpha and alef waves, to raise the volts in the reaction chamber of the Colossus of Sapsila, in order to try to save a medium number of thousands of soldiers who were already in the early fight of Patmia. The cycles were overcome by the scalability of subjugation of the controversy, which in these satisfactions would be a matter of maximization and incitement of war, which had already exceeded the cabotage lines of the ships that did not disembark.
Colossus of Apsila
Matthew Mckeown Apr 2018
The blood red wine of
pomegranates,
seeping into marigold
sheets of desire

political fires,
in need of quelling

telling,
a kingdom broiling over
in anticipation

expectation,
of a life barging in quickly

swiftly,
one night of passion
the melding of lives

legitimized,
a royal heir needs
to come into the fold

or heads will surley roll
In the posterity of what he compromised of his double mortality; one of these would bifurcate from the fearsome tyranny that subsequently dragged him down as he yearned to free himself from her purging. However, it was understood that he would have to retreat from his ditopikótitas or bilocality that was lifting him from the rigging of the Shamaim, which serenely reserved a Myein or arcane cloister for him until he detached himself from the Olympo that made him experience how to achieve his maximum unification with the Christianismós that would transport him with his subsidiary death from confinement, being a fleeting ascetic exercise with Orpheus and Dionisio and being able to access the unitive way of contravening the Myein or confinement of himself, until when he transfigured with his Himation into locks of gold they follow him transporting towards an illuminating purgative construction. Vernarth had already indulged in paroxysmal serials that repeatedly vanished from the stigma indulged in the non-rational parapsychological that bilocated extra-sensory, between the same helots present and ambassadors of Orpheus and Dionysus.

After drinking the fermented Ionian among those present, a Thuellai glimpsed him with such impetus that the glasses that broke in the same act, thus the lutrophores became weightless among this eternal battle between the eared handles of the carquesio, daring him to combine it with the rains of the tertiary zero that was settling on the Carquesians, and colliding with each other with those of their acolytes. Vernarth felt an abrupt alienation of the Myein towards a hyper-reality, but at the same time very aware that when the glasses crashed, they were made in thousandths of spaces in the realms that were detached from the hyper verbalized quantum with lexicons that emanated in the Duoverse way. ; That is to say, plenty of inspirations among the meditative and suspicious toasts when pretending to inherit from the Olympo, respecting and leaving the depositaries calm, noting that if one of them when grabbing the Lutrophorus had hirsute and hairy scarlet bristles activated in the back area of his hand right not hairy. Therefore, Vernarth realized that they were canons of the Kerberos in fact, and not of Orpheus and Dionysus, giving an immediate ovation of obedience and sudden minimal in the neglect of the place. This mechanism had broken down from a monotheistic hypersensitivity when he learned that there was a huge abyss of asceticism that distanced him from the underside of a possible cabal that supremely raised him with roots of hyper-meditative and illusory alienation that transferred him to the new reel of Hecate, which he reverberated with spells as he saw that his Kerberos distended from some hoopoe that lightened on Hecate's shoulders as they usurped Hestia's Olympian oikonos. Behold, Hestia's acquiescence was always close in Vernarth's metaphysical incursion, in such a way that the aviforme Hoopoe duplicated itself on Vernarth's shoulder blades, after emigrating from all the regions that were unknown to him, only from this ******* that is only possible optically sensitive in each hoopoe, and in each Vernarth shoulder after the transmigration of the great litters of blatant nocturnal Athena, not being condemned souls of Athena; but rather an owl with its wings wounded at its apices by splinters of coagulated serum from the very elytra of the Little Owl, a product of the severed of Hephaestus when cutting the skull of Zeus with his ax. Here is in this sub-quantum submission of how it implies that Vernarth takes himself from the elytra of the Little Owl, in order to impel him and achieve the conquest of the flight to Patmos where all his comrades were waiting for him, transforming his body into cells of Glaux of the Greek root γλαύκος (Glauko, bright towards an Ohr Hassadim), ibid of the same Hellenic as he traveled with the wings of the lustrous news that accompanied him, to ensure his return from the nebulosity to Ohr del Shamaim himself, pointing to the death throes of immobility of the team of oxen, which would never move from the wheels to take Lucia of Syracuse to the brothel, without the consent of Hashem.

Behold, Vernarth also within his ethnobotanical oikonos began to come off his second death as Astragalus Glaux with the sharp flowers of his garden famous in his allegories and belongings of herbaceous and confined litanies, which were the same ones that resisted his machinations by splitting them the calcaneus to its hoplites at the Arbela Site, unimpeded by some Astragalus Glaux that suffered in the substrate beyond its narrow ellipses, grouping them in the bleeding calcaneus of its phalangists, where the same length of the leaves served as peduncles dissecting and crystallizing the wounds of his faithful warriors. As a dry evergreen leaf, it was disconnected from the Glaux capsule that shone brightly from the constellation of Orion, and from Barnard's flowered loops, resembling par excellence the shape that extended to the cubic dome of the feet of all its soldiers. Falangists when at once they showed him once that they healed with the healing effect of Astragalus.

This sub-quantum could be attributed to a presumed stalking subplot, separating him in alienation but at the same time benefiting the concentrated attraction towards Sudpichi's coordinates in the Transverse Valleys from where his mother appeared to him from the Castle of Horcondising. His mother does not ask to feel part of some interference in the final awakening of his parapsychology, much less obstructing his liberation from the purgation that was already a concrete reality. Behold Luccica; her mother embodied herself in Thetis, giving her the imaginary role to interpellate in the final ceremony of Himation. Since Thetis constituted the sacred voluntary value of the Hellenes, towards a policy of agreeing her body in submitological assessment that would be legitimized once from the subsidiary body when it was split from its second incidental death of Olympo, already prepared to warn that Hephaestus had severed it. the head to Zeus when he prevented the birth of Athena, but he had two depository heads of the ingredient of Cronion-Zeus remaining until finally in this conclusive edict Luccica could receive his extemporaneous soul after being freed from the retrograde parapsychology that was re-launched in Piacenza. This exerts manumissions that are stubborn of his own will, but exercised through other deities, here Luccica had already learned that Vernarth was released from his kathartírio or Purgation, generating reconciliation with the church of Smyrna that had just been the final epilogue in Elegy VIII, as a concern of liberation such as Vernarth from the Chains of the purgation, as was what Tethys undertook when liberating Zeus from the chains with the drama of Fifth of Smyrna, from where some hold remained in the arms of the mother Vernarth with a duplicate of Achilles, but being Vernarth who was acclaimed with blood brother of all the lineage of the Heroes of the Triumph of the Hellenic Death.
Lid of Myein
Yenson Jul 2019
Its stuck in their heads like a finger in a ****-hole
pull it out and a torrent of water jets with stunning force
a wasteful cascade of the natural gift that feeds world-wide whole
water brains is fitting here for what is stuck in liquid brains is farce
its a 'silver-spoon' image created by knaves, spivs and errant proles
alas, its stuck in watered brains brewing stormy gales in places sparse
fantasized 'silver spoon' has driven dammed water-brains to sad tolls
no reasoning or logic assailed vituperate mob voicing fully till hoarse

War, war the tin coat armies rise in Tolpuddle marches
a 'silver spoon' resides in our dusty midst in shinning splendor
heads heaving with dank waters, muddy slosh they riled in batches
lords of Denim and dukes of tattered canvases go knocking at doors
join the revolt and do your bit for a silver spoon is to be put in latches
no rhyme nor reason to watered-senses as simple minds settle scores
in frenzied pain and fevered angst's they tarry, scurry and scratches
hate has been legitimized and freedom for racists to all roast and sour
pandemic madness in full throes, a made-up 'silver spoon' to dispatch
Crowd manipulation is the intentional use of techniques based on the principles of crowd psychology to engage, control, or influence the desires of a crowd in order to direct its behavior toward a specific action. The main property that keeps a crowd united is a shared feeling ;A� a key factor indeed, both for propaganda and advertising.
The crowd experiences a sense of insurmountable power and a feeling of omnipotence to such an extent that it annihilates any sense of responsibility that it might be present.A� So the crowd gets easily carried away by its wildest instincts and becomes overly spontaneous while beingA� wrapped in a mist of social stress.
Yenson Nov 2023
Do you see what I see
can you
even know what I know
can you
see the hypocrisy of liars
cons and morons
who now turn on their Leader
and fight amongst themselves
crying cease-fire
injustice and atrocities
when selves sames
in their own backyard
have legitimized a burglary
and attempts at extortion and intimidation
and our vituperate selves sames have orchestrated
and conducted
the most vicious campaign of bullying, vilification,
harrassments, smears, misrepresentation,
libelous slander and toxic distortions
not to mention varied contraventions of basic human rights,
against one lone innocent brown man
they urdained to 'wipe out' a blameless man
because they possess the power to do as they please
Telling themselves
that is Democracy in modern today
Do you know
You can fool some of the people all of the time,
and all of the people some of the time,
but you can not fool all of the people all of the time
and do you know that Politics is a con game for scammers
liars, self-serving opportunists and narcissists
and
Scarlet Fever is a selective contagion
that is resistant to the antibiotics of truth,
fairplay, intelligence and commomsense
Norbert Tasev Jul 2020
When the shore tear between the two of us was completed: An important, small piece of the heart was broken with a huge sparkle and delicate strings: disappeared! - The internal organs that kept the weight of your true pearl tears, the transforming heaven of your happiness in you with the gaping depths of caves, are now offended as looters

with the words of silent bells they keep sobbing and do not understand: How could you let go, without the hope of a joyful reunion, the One, the True ?! A wounded tear burst out again and dripped its way like a soundless yet talkative glass ball, mercifully on the crater solitude of your ash face. "I was the first to lose my dear: You have left for a limited, perfectly sterile world, and a well-deserved marriage may have flourished in your heart forever!" Slowly, deliberately, the Secrets have legitimized in my heart: You may love me even more than anything, but inside, where something was swollen and tense at your gaze, now only the gaping, perforated like craters Nothing yawns!

And finally, you can see yourself filled with happiness; smuggling the belief that your heart might be fuller could be better than chasing the destroyed emptiness of your brave words endlessly! "I would ask you, your blessed hand, to take the pledges of my truths, the promises of my kisses, as a pledge," and I will take care of you on every doomed day of my life as before.

— The End —