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INDEX


                            Foreword

1  Despertación of Etréstles 13

2  Constitución New Government . 22

3  diabolic Intromisión 25

4  Kanti, the Corcel . 28

5  Ante the Council 30

6 Inauguración the Monument to Botsaris . 36

7  Losas abandoned 41

8  Satagénesis and Deidagénesis Four. Five

9   Enviados to Deidagénesis / Lepanto 52

10 Drestnia in Kalidona 56

11 Etréstles returns Lepanto 64

12 And the fourth cemetery 71

13 Top of the flight of Lucifer 79

14 In the crypt of the patriarchs 87

15 Etréstles part Valplacci 98

16 Etréstles fleet in the Ionian Sea 114

17 Near Messolonghi 120

18 A new era begins 123

19 Universal Era breaks 129

20 Goodbye Messolonghi 135

21 At the beginning of a new millennium. 141

Epilogue. 153








FOREWORD






Mi theme concept concerning Cemeteries, has been maintained for many years under a remarkable process falls recoup credibility. Unknown worlds which we do not know what to believe, are usually put into question.

Constantly let the silent fields where lie the dead, but it is not, rather that me thinks so. Undoubtedly, the Quantum Theory indicates a basic unit of the whole universe, showing that it is possible to decompose the world into small units of independent existence. This theory shows that the dynamics in the art is such that, solid objects are in constant motion entramando relations between different parts of a unified whole.

As we believe that matter is inherently sterile, we think the cemetery is in the same condition, and therefore inert bodies are also only turned into a pile of bones scattered.





7

8 Etréstles


My conception of the world of subterranean acting, aims to support the theory of Quantum, because at first glance it seems that under these moles cement there putrefaction and eternal solitude. Well, I, I do not think so, I think there is tremendous activity, above all tends to seek fulfillment in a world that concerns him, and also has the infinite grace of thanks from all lurking diseases that shake us. That is, each inhabitant of the subterranean acting as a Franciscan Noble receives worship existence, and not faints by the destructive effects of all known diseases.

Near the garden of heroes, they are the remains of those who died in this output. It was a legendary struggle for libertarian revolution of 1821 in Greece, exactly Messolonghi. Markos Botsaris's tomb and the statue of Lord Byron great Hellenophile found in this garden.

Once, I was looking for a book, and this was inevadiblemente of oriental trend. I used to remind my teacher, the monk talking Virajánanda Given the processes of time, yesterday, today and tomorrow; all at once were a pure unity. That physical death had to be spiritual satisfaction, so that the spirit can not disconnect your disposable body. Child saw my family to go to leave flowers garden home to their loved ones. But I am noticing that my grandparents were still alive, and then would leave, looking for ways to inhale the smell of the earth to prepare the farewell that someday would come from the dark beyond. It never was painful to see them

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 9


from, because I've always been with them. In addition always our body, which would be living in a merger with vague spirits, to vague minds that do not hold their interest in spirituality as a way of life, tend to make us climb through dark passages of ignorance.

Etréstles, the protagonist; It has place at a lineage that marks limits warriors of ancient Greece, since fought with neighboring nations. Thus, generation after generation, he meddles in successive reincarnations that are to be transported in time by different spaces.

Its Vitabión and Regma Mother, father and as Staktos and Esaedt, both from different eras. His monogamous romantic company is coyuntada with the presence of Drestnia; woman who had to pull out of her womb, better said from his rib, emulating the biblical account.

While it is noteworthy that the secondary characters are related to Greek mythology such as Eurydice, and real characters like Markos Botsaris, who was a great hero who drove the Turks. The famous Florentine sculptor and architect Lorenzo Ghiberti, is present in the action, so that his image is immortalized in an eternal cemetery. Similarly we should mention Asurbanipal king of Assyria (667-626 C), the Auriga; the coachman and truck driver where he had his Herreros over time to release the Hellenic descent.

Other memorable as Aristotle, Hesiod, Praxiteles, which are knowledge to every reader of Greek literature. The judge presiding over the classroom

10 E tr é stles


sesionaba time to time, trying to revive the rituals and reject the stubborn efforts of Lucifer, who was trying to have a place on earth, then God expelled him from heaven.

In the chapter of the onslaught of Lucifer, he is accompanied by his minions Heosphoros and Phosphoros; they are the ones who brought Lucifer from heaven to Messolonghi. In addition Mesopotamian demons appear hostile world, these were the Annunaki who were the jailers of the dead in hell. The Etimmu, were the ghosts of all those who had died unhappy. The Utukku lived in desolate places or cemeteries; they are all part of malignancy presence as oppressive form and manner of presence to the exuberance of good all-encompassing.

Kanti Botsaris steed, is nothing more than his superconsciousness, wearing it as a link between the different physical and oneiric dimensions. It should be noted that Kanti is a Cretan horse and belongs to the fallen in battle, as Botsaris.

Eulalia and Zultina, both courtesans who spent their lives together with Ghiberti and Botsaris.

And it could not ignore the Menopausal, puerperal and Enamorada, as they like female members suffer alone beyond the earthly life that had consequences that affect the desolate silence of death camps.

And to finish, arrival at Valplacci, where it meets a world and a rare man in an unknown dimension by Etréstles. subsequently arriving at Patmos, where St.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi eleven


John the Theologian, to regain some of its lost soul by the intrusion of Lucifer. Here manages to discover that there is no need to fight warriors who always talk about physical war, because many of them tend to succumb to the same battlefields. discovering, mind mentor as the best ally to overcome any difficulty, wherever it is that the human race is found, or infra-human.

Finally, Etréstles is discovered in a way that would open a new numeral cycle, to start a new era and a new physical space where the projection Messolonghi be situated; nothing less than Nineveh, Ashurbanipal land where the winds blow, as a priest in his exsufflation it does to remove the demons that inhabit the world.

The "Zero" is the initiator of a new era, from whose base the only means available to the new life that awaits the residents of escombroso Messolonghi, after the invasion of Lucifer appears.

My concept of the cemeteries, while seeking an answer to approximate I think now that enormous efforts are made to understand fully. Cemetery remains for me a scenario of hideousness and terror, seen from the observation point that everyone has it, however, I think that in a strange world where you're not supposed to govern ethics, aesthetics, law , and the professional, economic and social status; It is where more wealth is the multiestimulante vitality, "I think

12 E tr é stles


nowhere inhabited earthly souls, will be able to find more life here in the

Messolonghi cemetery ".


José Luis Carreño Troncoso San Antonio, 1997




1





Wake-up of Etréstles



Dfter sleeping a thousand years fell on my face greater light current Solar. I slept without smiling at the crowds inhumaron smearing me my only bones.

The search of that hubbub, made me celebrate the porous bodies and pelusientos arañosos falling on my fingers, delighting my humble tributes to the beetles that accompanied me to direct my view to the nearby burial vaults me. Some were swollen with a semblance augury despertativa; like starting today, with the ominous words They moved from today, the paddling of my fleshless jaws.

Among gravestones of Floreas esmeraldinas dinosauric, in a clear blue autumn, some birds refregaban on edges of the carved stones. Meanwhile, mustards was riding on dry leaves leaves clavelinas. The white-clad looked up Drestnia slab that closed their senses, remained behind bars with his hands crossed as evolving body


13

14 E tr é stles


to attend a new era of geography and different technology. On his chest he would run the living vertiginante wind up the corporeal hint in the light of Koumeterium Messolonghi; that housed over a thousand years ago, at Etréstles of Kalavrita.

This huge palace and flat, it is nothing more than an asylum, where the worst plague that began with the death of the sentinels of Lucifer, who dropped this place with its beautiful golden layers originated; whose satagénesis emerge the burning soil to ten fossilized cemeteries under the Messolonghi.

He walked slowly dragging my old body, the tenth floor, and that teenage girls pointed stones would break my nails; as such if they were claws of a mammal trapped by lava from a volcano. In each advance I awaken in my armor patriotic my last fight, and his enternecedor observe how parents tilled by the conglomerate caste, fighting in underground elements.

Etréstles awakening ...:

Etréstles ...: Which of all columns erected is able to open all columns built in the pavilion of these moles without form or color ... just vitalizing lung diaphragm Eólico my daydreams, is who I think would ...?

To all who are runaways and trapped underground Messolonghi, I bring you good tidings ... Auriga with its Herreros come from the region of the Dodecanese to loosen the bars you father

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi fifteen


Staktos lucid and my mother Vitabión well that in a thousand years, has been damaged her beautiful body. Since my birth in Ayia Lavra, I was being buried for the ninth time in the Ninth Fossilized Cemetery. Whose archpriest with holy oil trickled down my wall, pretending to be a dance of water generated at the bottom of the Ionian. Between the arches of the temple columns running down my mother Vitabión; outward sacravertebral bathe in the water of my past christenings. My past lives were providing mandated by the Auriga their previous lives. And your mother ... A day tried the weight of my recycle ... ?!

Beyond you., Comrades of wars, pilgrimages sacrosanct, lush gauzy baths civilization in the Olympic and equestrian fields.

To you. That you lie here, as is my death in my last life in the hands of a Spartan soldier. Pcs., Blood of my blood, I feel inside me speak your need ...

And in the postrería Drestnia, which by its sixth rising from here from Messolonghi, between bars sealed thy grave situation for the Hellenic indeterminar.

I had to drink from the Pinosa resin to speak here, with my bony hands to touch the others are like yours ...

... Drestnia, my rib still preserved, I will be reborn placating the domain of collective wishful thinking, which prevents your freedom.

My rib you return to your present life, whose cold, flower seeds esqueletizaron the perimeter of your life ...

16 E tr é stles


Etréstles was with them into the Koumeterium Messolonghi, to about 1800 meters zenith direction.

They were to be the Necromesolongui Council to define the minutes. -while music with winds adorned arrival-. Just at the moment, came the Auriga with its blacksmiths, they came to liberate Drestnia with its multiconciencia. What happiness to Etréstles! He ran through the underground halls, to the oldest Koumeterium, the first fossilized. Where thousands of years ago, with many now extinct species, Etréstles came to them resoundingly good news.

While the Council inveighed promulgating the divine sarmiento spray fields Dodecanese in producing seeds of Markos Botsaris.

Judge…: With my lameness, I have to advocate the reintegration of outstanding Markos Botsaris, that once we free them of the Turkish occupation!

Asurbanipal ...My Sirio reign, full of dynamism, placed on their doorposts the powerful image of South-west wind, in honor of his victorious from Kalidona.

Etréstles brought Drestnia just walking the Council and thousands of harmoniums undermined doubts Manor invoking the hero. They all stand, the Council at its octagonal table with his assistants left empty vine glasses to welcome, to the last surviving female first Koumeterium Messolonghi.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 17


Harmoniums, as Apollonian rubies widen the dimensions of the cavernales vaults. She sit and ends the music. Drestnia with some leaves on his shoulders, adorned the new escenáculo, which would sit by the new future.

Asurbanipal ...: To you gifts Oh, the universe, you are welcome to this Council, where one day they brought me to praise my contributions from the entrance of Humanity!

But the issue for today, will await the arrival of Markos Botsaris as you who have reached this border, thanks to the generous Auriga.

Charioteer…: ***** wax Orion; Eternal fuel, donated them strength to my steeds pairs, that were raised over distant lands, to reach my Herreros desoldering the bars of Drestnia.

Blacksmith…: Our eyes closed every hundred kilometers, but Eurydice with your calendar, made the aphelion arrimara us this feat.

Ecos ...: Dust ..., Mito ... Dream ... illusion ... have swirled galloping millennia, wearing gray Borrasca ...!

What dark words illuminate the hopes, just below, it is well known that there is much to do, because there is more activity on the surface ...!

Judge…: Etréstles, Drestnia ... past, present, or future will speak of you.

18 E tr é stles


You Drestnia ... !, how long dream ..., defied your gothic vision, not move my neck to your neighbors, loved ensepulcrados in the first Fossilized Koumeterium.

Vitabión ...: Messolonghi lives up to all cemeteries in the world, where they loved their near them. But they do not know life here is more dynamic than in the world of their own.

Menopausal women ...My husband cry on my slab, because his infidelity caused me a bad venereum, which today has removed me from his life. The cries and cries for me ****** decline, all for being with another woman condemned me.

one curtain rises and leaves Funebrio; concelebrating priest all recent deaths ...

Funebrio ...: Woman when you cry my black clothes, cry black tears ...!

Your husband remains static, no movement, despite many kilometers to their own devices. Forbidden habit becomes, how tempting. But contestataria Mother Nature pours us their punishment.

Staktos ...: Friends kisses you give yourself, Where have posted ideations ...?

O dais to scatter everywhere the osculaciones they meet other mouths.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 19


Etréstles ...: Everyone I ask do well to prepare your labors. Even so, his desire to hold my naughty pleas heart in this hour by the arrival of Drestnia.

The judge asks adjourn for the recess could then discuss strategies for future deaths.

Sepulcrero ...Lord Judge at the stepped eastern sector have buried an architect. We could ask your cooperation to Botsaris monument.

Judge…: All in good time. It will be done, does anyone want something narrow ...? -Drestnia raised his hand and asked ...:

Drestnia ...: With Etréstles in the last minutes of our lives, which extortioner once it is finished this monument, where our souls will be destined to remain here temporarily ... Messolonghi?

Judge…: General demented wars, take Etréstles the field of Lepanto, because there are stubborn souls who defy the vanquished souls ...

… and as for you, the benevolent Auriga take your soul colors of the sunset, to divide megatons of the Romantics, who along with Ghiberti, on some trunks of beautiful minerals, will anchor his best poems and hiperestésicas forward to outshine their suicides groups.

After the meeting, the attendees are removed, and Drestnia with Etréstles go to spring the celestial napa

twenty E tr é stles


with its golden glow waiting to sail to Tangier and Morocco. In their ships were concurrent, Etréstles woman carrying her ribcage navigation oriented towards the sound of the oars that were the femurs of a Diplodocus itself.

Drestni
ROUGH SAMPLE  - Metaphysic Poem besed upon a 1000 Bc. Etrestles of Kalavrita, greek hero, living through 10 lices, recommence a New Era.

Epic and Multidimensional poetic Ebook
come & enjoy, where you dont find..., stepout and see the Glory.

Jose Luis
K Balachandran Dec 2011
winter
seems to revel
in it's
intrusive freedom,
to meddle.
Jeremy Betts Oct 2023
Dax-
God's Eyes

~My Verse~

I've never seen God's eyes, but I've seen the devil's
He walks with men on earth at different levels
He knows the king we serve, so he hates and meddles
And prays that we all burn and turn to rebels

He tried to get my soul, but I'll never settle
I'll walk this lonely road from the 'burbs to ghettos
I'll take the gift bestowed and return a vessel
I am the one they chose, yeah-yeah-yeah

-----------------------------------------

(first­ yeah of the verse layered over the last yeah of the chorus, slowed and stretched out)

...-yyeeeaaahhh

I've never met god, no, I've never met the devil
Though I've seen 'em in the eyes of broken people
Both shrouded in lies, watch the line glitch between what's good and what's evil
They seem pretty equal, it's the playing field that's not level

An unholy holy war, creation V creator
You swear he hears prayer so it's a choice to never answer
The holy-ish trinity with it's narcissist center, the first broken family ever
Please do me a favor, before you expire, acknowledge the innocent lost to crossfire

-----------------------------------------

("They'll never see god's eyes, but they've seen the devil's" layered over "I've never seen God's eyes, but I've seen the devil's")

"They'll never see god's eyes, but they've seen the devil's"
He walks with men on earth at different levels
He knows the king we serve, so he hates and meddles
And prays that we all burn and turn to rebels

He tried to get my soul, but I'll never settle
I'll walk this lonely road from the 'burbs to ghettos
I'll take the gift bestowed and return a vessel
I am the one they chose, yeah-yeah-yeah

©2023
Dax- God's Eyes
https://youtu.be/1TyLXShB9DU?si=nGJERxNAVqryRSzN
My concept of the issue concerning Cemeteries has been maintained for many years under a remarkable process falls recoup credibility. Unknown worlds to which we do not know what to believe, are usually put into question.

Constantly let the silent fields were to lie the dead, but it is not, rather than me think so. Surely Quantum Theory indicates a basic unit of the whole universe, showing that it is possible to decompose the world into independently existing smallest units. This theory shows that the dynamic is in the matter in such a way that solid objects are constantly moving rasterizing relationships between different parts of a unified whole.
As we believe that matter is inherently sterile, we think the Cemetery is in the same condition, and therefore inert bodies are also just turned into a pile of bones scattered.
My conception of the world of subterranean acting aims to support the theory of Quantum, and at first glance, it seems that under these masses of cement no putrefaction and eternal solitude. Well, I do not think so, I think there is a tremendous activity, above all tends to seek fulfillment in a world of her competence, and also has the infinite grace of thanks from all lurking diseases that shake us. That is, each inhabitant of the subterranean acting receives as a Franciscan noblest worship existence, and not falter from the destructive effects of all known diseases.
Near the garden of heroes, they are the remains of those who died in this output. It was a legendary struggle for the libertarian revolution of 1821 in Greece, Messolonghi exact-mind. Markos Botsaris tomb and the statue of Lord Byron great Hellenophile found in this garden.


Once, I was looking for a book, and this trend was unavoidable East. I used to remind my teacher, the monk talking Virajánanda Given the processes of time, yesterday, today, and tomorrow; all at once was a pure unity. That physical death had to be spiritual satisfaction so that the spirit can not disconnect your disposable body. As a child, I saw my family go to leave my garden flowers home to their loved ones. But noticing that my grandparents were still alive, and then would leave, looking for ways to inhale the smell of the earth to prepare for the farewell, that someday would come from the dark beyond. It never was painful to see them go because I've always been with them. Besides always our body, which would be living in a merger with spirits vague, vague minds to not blame his interest in spirituality as a way of life, often making us climb through dark passages of ignorance.


Etréstles, the protagonist; It is staged one lineage that marks limits warriors of ancient Greece, since fighting with neighboring nations. Thus, generation after generation, he meddles in successive reincarnations that are to be transported in time to different spaces.  Its Vitabión and Regma Mother, father, and as Staktos and Esaedt, both from different eras. His company monogamous sentimental is linked by the presence of Drestnia; the woman he had to get out of her womb, better said from his rib, emulating the biblical account.

While it is noteworthy that the secondary characters are related to Greek mythology such as Eurydice, and real characters as Botsaris Markos, who was a great hero who drove the Turks. The famous Florentine sculptor and architect Lorenzo Ghiberti, is present in the action so that its image is immortalized in the eternal cemetery. Equally noteworthy is Ashurbanipal, king of Assyria (667-626 BC), the Auriga; Coachman, and the truck driver where he had his blacksmiths over time to release the Greek descent.


Other memorable as Aristotle and Hesiod Praxitle, which are knowledge to every reader of Greek literature. The judge presiding over the classroom in session from time to time, trying to relive the rituals and reject severe efforts of Lucifer, trying to have a place on earth, then God expelled him from heaven.

In the chapter of the onslaught of Lucifer, is he accompanied by his minions and Phosphoros Heosphoros; they are the ones who brought Lucifer from heaven to Messolonghi. Also appear hostile Mesopotamian demons of the world, were the Annunaki who were the guards of the dead in hell. The Etimmu were the ghosts of all those who had died unhappy. The Utukku lived in desolate places or cemeteries; they are all part of the presence in the malignancy as oppressive manner and form of presence to the exuberance of good all-encompassing.

Kanti Botsaris steed is not above his super consciousness, which leads as a link between different dimensions physical and dreamlike. It notes that Kanti is a Cretan horse and belongs to the fallen in battle, as Botsaris.

Eulalia and Zultina, both courtesans who spent their lives with Ghiberti and Botsaris.
And it could not ignore the Menopause, puerperal, and Inamorada, since they and female members alone your friend beyond earthly life that had consequences that affect the desolate silence of death camps.
And to top it, the arrival in Valplacci was with a world and an unusual man, a dimension Etréstles unknown. Then arriving at Patmos, where St. John the Theologian, to regain some of its lost soul by the intrusion of Lucifer. This achieves discover is not necessary to combat warriors who always speak of physical war, because many of them tend to succumb to the same battlefield. Discovering, so the mentoring Mind is the best ally to overcome any difficulty, wherever it is that the human race you are, or infrahuman.


Finally, Etréstles is discovered in a way that would inaugurate a new paragraph cycle to initiate a new era and a new physical space where the projection of Messolonghi would stand; nothing less than Nineveh, Ashurbanipal land where the winds blow, as a priest in his insufflation do to remove the demons that inhabit the world.
The "Zero" is the initiator of a new era, the basis of the only means available to the new life that awaits ruinous residents Messolonghi, after the invasion of Lucifer appears.

My concept of Cemeteries, they are seeking long an answer that I think I can approximate now that huge efforts are made to understand fully. The cemetery remains for me a scenario of hideousness and terror, seen from the observation point we all have of it, however, I think that in a strange world where you're not supposed to govern ethics, aesthetics, law, and the professional economic and social status; It is where more wealth is the multi stimulant vitality, "I think in any place inhabited earthly souls, will be able to find more life here in the cemetery of Messolonghi".


José Luis Carreño Troncoso.
Copyright all rights reserved
For the Sparrows Mar 2013
Cupid teases me in the night
like a ghost,
invading my dreams.
He meddles with my ever-altering
unconscious mind,
a world I wish I could remember
before it gets swept away.
Please cupid, stop playing games.
He doesn't miss me.
Upon any unlikely encounter,
the last thing I would see is a delighted smile
let alone his warm embrace.

They say when you dream about someone,
that person is missing you.

Sounds like wishful thinking to me.
Maria Etre Oct 2017
There are
7 different types
of love
elaborated by
the heart's
7 different
beats, decoding
7 different languages
that the mind
meddles with
https://thoughtcatalog.com/rania-naim/2016/02/the-7-kinds-of-love-and-how-they-can-help-you-define-yours-according-to-the-ancient-greeks/
Melody Mann Sep 2021
The monotonous haze of suspicion clouds her perception, Uncertainty meddles with speculation as she ponders,
A decision avowal.
US to Russia:
"Stay out of Ukraine!"
meanwhile, the US
still occupies and meddles
with Iraq, Afghanistan,
and all those Pacific Islands
and those are just the ones
we know about:

We don't seek morality;
we're just jealous and envious.

If **** hits any fan,
we want it to be our fan
******* up the ****
of whatever barbarians we see fit.
I love the British weather especially the sun
But I really can't stand the rain
And I love the smell of fish and chips
It just meddles with my brain

I love the coasts that we possess
Even the Blackpool shore
And to see the way my children play
Makes me love them even more

I love the nitty gritty of politics
Although I'm not to keen on the tories
Their quite happy to cut this and that
Amongst their sordid stories

I love our sporting culture
But I can take or leave the glamorous WAGS
All bling and silly makeup
And the nice Gucci bags

I love our capital London
Especially Leicester Square
Don't understand our Queen though
With her funny little stare

And finally I love the nature
From the Hebrides to John O groats
Where the people are very rural
As they tend to their pigs and goats
mark jarrad Dec 2011
It seems that me and cupid
Have fallen out again
Because i called him ' stupid'
Because he caused me pain
Now if your'e gonna side with him
Then thats your choice ..i guess !
But when he meddles without consent
Of mine , he makes a mess !!!

How many times does he need ?
Will he ever ..get it right ?
Find 'my love' the truest of
Instead of all this *****  :( !!!
Swing my phallus,
a lame attempt to keep balance on this spinning rock.
Better ruled by short stick then take stock in anything serious.
mind shut move forward
what we can't see certainly can't hear us.
Only an ******* pumps fists
This abashed soul lumps his blame on the short comings of others.
Disdain, a fort built from pillows and covers
tumbles under the absent look given by scorned lovers...

I picked a rose
pricked a finger
now my love is left to linger with thoughts of red blood
all because I was too impatient to grasp it
a casket lies in reserve for this paper soul
it doesn't take a fool to see that penciled trees won't grow
so here i stand thumb up head down
gratuity, a hole filled with water and rubish
forms beauty in this mind an oil rainbow doth permiss

But thats just it
a shimmer, a sheen
that gleam a thin slice of cold metal
the only rebuttal a reflection, depth shallow
if mirrors speak no lies pull thIs finger out of a hat
devise an angle to cut glass which speaks truth
not crap, or a whacked crack at fact.
A fallacy presented forms false return
allows me repentance from all that i've learned.

Solace in dreams?
a world of things
which feints refuge, gives refuse and meddles
muddied the sleep sought to steal from the night
replaced it with fists, your form, and a fight
a plight is where i stand to sit
despite the case i planned to rip
Eyes turn to days distracted thoughts juggled
nights turned to pains, sore throats, bloodied knuckles

Upside down
or inside out?

... to be continued

-2010
The poverty I am saddest about
( his shoutings about politics )

…..he read that online
mine poetry about this poverty
the stupidity started scolding me
declared instantly me-moi as its enemy
its words, so absurds
a lunatic so terrific

not its area nor its section
I oft write in Dutch and this is mine declaration

I do now one step lower
From “it” I step a bit lower down to “his”
his profession does not read poetry
but he thought he could read
poetry poesy and poems

true very pity
not his art nor his profession
he meddles in everything
mine poetic wings, not his thing
(contin.on Part 2)

© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected
This poem consists of three parts. This is Part One. True occurrence.
An ordinary admirer becomes an insane stalker, unstoppable.
I THOUGHT he was kindest, but I was mistaken
Sunday 3rd Sept 2017 @ 8.19 hrs AM West-European Time
Fheyra May 2020
Farewell, no—
Not a crow,—
But a lapse of lightning,
Flashes in films— with rocks thrown on a brim—
Creating verges on waters,
As it expands,— a mirror was formed
But shrubs are sobbing,— As the fog meddles with the river— So blinding; Then the mirror disappears
When droplets keep dripping,—
I could not see anymore..

"Find me..find me.."
Who are you?— "Find me.."
Are you a wolf from another pack?—"find me.."— Were you buried? — A breath? Or only pieces?— "find me.."
To be revived below the tree is a befuddling been..
"Find me.."
Somewhere, you are;
Somewhere, you will be—
I will find you..

In the misty voids, I followed you— and submerged to your world
The assuage of none,— oh, 'tis an eerie coldness—
Of belabouring sorrows and haunted dreams
The maze of narration leads to this path—
Summons the whispers of bushes that kept breathing and moving..—
Closer and closer..

In the silence— I sneak;
Someone screams,
(AAAAAAAHHHH!!!)
—Run and run; Never look back— For shadows are treacherous trolls,— Seducing temples—
Enshroud the wilderness to frighten the all grown..
—"I shall call you once more."

Suddenly, I tripped to the quarry
Serpents hissing; The Arachnids are stalking—
"Where is my fire?!"— I rattled to tend
One foot back— Murmurs chanting rituals to this goose
Spill embers! Spill embers!
Fiery torches cast my foes!
Now, I could escape.

No!— The ravens,
I shall not be abducted
Hastily, I blew my feet—To leap in sleek,— As to surpass the endless drear—
I am not a kin to your lair..

Hence, I was a fool
Befallen is me,—
When I stepped to the end side of knoll
This rebel is a victim of sheer torn scheme
Help me..
I need to find you..
Help me.. Please, help me..
Please..

A nowhere eagle swooped me from my lore
Bounce away from this pity storm,—
And let these wings fly to the morn
The lenient Stratus Clouds— Bolstering my spirit— Up here, there are no hostiles and skulls
That it declared to me, as well,— "Away from your madness— Perpetrators are attracted by insane vigor. Cease grubbling illusions!
You must seek to believe that it is there, and not unknown."
I conformed to my Savior.

"Find me..find me.."
It was more vivid and louder..
The glimpse of gables, I see now— with a Cross at its top
"My eagle, nest me here"
—"You are here..Enter within."

(GASPS)
Where am I?— I remember there were smoke and mounds;— Above me were clouds..
Wait, why are you smiling?
I shall pant— for I am petrified by all those obscured hollows,— Quite absurd?— Shake me instead
Now I ask you,—
"Who are you?"


—You found Me!—
Nightmares can devour the soul, and make ourselves lost forever..
This is overcoming death in the representation of dream sequence.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
listen, i did my christianity bit,
i went to a catholic school,
that's about it, i'm not going to be paying
any more dues, and yes it is scary leaving
the theological ***** where you're expected
to **** yourself should something awful were to happen,
my Cartesian model is a bit different though,
instead of cogito ergo sum (ego inclusive),
it's a- deus ergo ego cogito...
i don't know where to put the affix hyphen to balance
the equation, whether -ego or -cogito to create
the + of ergo, the 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9
sequencing as the offshoot of thinking and being,
which, however, is not as easily represented
by mathematics - cogito ergo sum
is not a straight forward + + +, it's the tetrasignum
of +, -, x and ÷, the interaction between thinking
and being is no straightforward sequence of events,
not a simple adding up... it varies, the four variables
have to coexist in the ergo that bridges thinking
and being... i mean one event in your life can
either add to the experience, subtract, multiply
or divide you an your thinking in terms of how
you'll later be... imagine a burglary,
indeed the tetrasignum is at work (basic! basic!
forget the anti-matter and subatomic particulars
that mathematics possesses with its logic,
e.g. √ and other meddles, basic is +, -, x and ÷
like a, b, c, the other mathematical functions
are like adding diacritical marks to letters,
so in algebra an x squared is like the e in olé!)
it will divide you, subtract from you, add up naiveness,
and you'll perceive the multiplicity of other people
also having experienced the distress. i could
complicate the explanation further, but i'll just
abandon the whole thing, because i have this
on my mind:

you write about religious matters you end up
desecrating things, religion and that damnable
materialistic symbolism, how those people
cling to crosses so much that they tattoo the symbols
into their skin - such mental straitjacket imprints -
there is a different version of Milton's paradise lost
(i don't like Blake because he attacked from
Milton and Newton) -
it's called *yesterday, today and for ever
,
and was written by edward henry bickersteth, d.d.
(late bishop of Exeter), published
by Longmans, Green & Co. 39 Paternoster Row,
London (also fourth avenue & 30th street new york
& Bombay, Calcutta & Madras) 1915 (height of
British imperialism before the ski-***** descent),
in twelve books, preface dating september 1866
(so i'm guessing the bishop was dead by 1915),
contents of the twelve books:
i. the seer's death, and descent to hades
ii. the paradise of the blessed dead
iii. the prison of the lost
iv. the creation of angels and men
v. the fall of angels and men
vi. the empire of darkness
vii. redemption
viii. the church militant
ix. the bridal of the lamb
x. the millennial sabbath (shābat)
xi. the last judgement
xii. the many mansions
                                                    (i know, i know, the
twelve disciples what not);
citation chapter ix page 247
   disguise was not: the dust instead of water drank in blood;
and fiery persecution in all lands
          lit up the lurid flames of hell.
  the whole creation in birth-pangs travail'd and groan'd;
while Satan inly tortured, with a fiend's dark
jealousy contemplating the power of Baalim
and envious Ashtaroth, though himself advanced,
as yet sub-served their banded *******.
Antichrist, as hollow subterfuges cast aside,
usurp'd the throne of Christ.


so that's an extract, but an e.g. of the notes of the
explanatory index:

st. paul's adoption of the word prophet to describe
the Cretan bard Epimenides (Titus i. xii)
appears to justify the use of seer in an equivalent sense;
compare i samuel. ix. ix.

line 78 "its true gauge"
'the measure by which we shall be measured, is the
faculty of love in the soul.'     Tauler, born 1290 a.d.

so there you have a sample of the lesser known Paradise
Lost... you probably won't find it in any shops,
it's a dated book, hard-cover... if you want it
i could send it to you, but you'd have to pay for
the postage duties.
ah crap, but that's not the point,
you've heard of the unholy trinity, well in it there's
this missing plurality, christian revisionists
(notably Slavoj Žižek) claim that the holy ghost
is not an individual but a community, a herd
(after all, it was a white dove descending at his
baptism, can't tell doves apart, so great, a community),
but working from there you have to accept
the other, counter: the false prophet of the opposite
hierarchy... it has to be plural... i.e. false prophets;
now i betcha ten quid that you wouldn't learn that
at sunday school.
title wise? i might change it...
                            i hate writing about religious things
because: a. it upsets people
                b. i don't like people getting upset
                c. some things just have to be said
                d. **** it, people are as adamant about
                     mobile phones as they are about
                     crucifix necklaces
                 e. i was schooled in catholicism although
                     not confirmed
                 f. i live in a protestant country, so, technically
                 g. i have to rebel and become an apostate,
                     meaning
                 h. the twelve apostates rather than the other 12.
Alisha Vabba Sep 2015
She, comes rarely:
A heavy shadow – bills on bills on bills. The eye
Clicks an evil polaroid,
Of the lies I was comfortably told.

She, sits in my comfort zone,
The money-munching
philosopher, with her odd young folk – petty chameleons.
She breathes ghosts and the room thickens.

This is my house.
Now splotched thoughts – clumsy grey and blue paperclips
stick to the furniture; squelching boots
and books everywhere.

She, shrieks and bangs
In my quietude, she never makes the bed.
She whom I care for,
Yet she meddles with my head.

This quarell I’m having,
This grief – she brought with her bags on the way.
She’s in my mausoleum, my pouf;
The dust settles in every day.

The maid comes and cleans it away.
But her baggage won’t budge, the badgering
Starts: and comes the gaping hole in my heart.
Go away, go away, go away.

Can’t she be more like me – as i need?
Can’t she stop piercing holes,
I can’t afford pills and spills
Like the fear that leaks out, and the bills.

Here’s some *** to our grief.
I cannot help you glue your head
back into one piece:
can I give you some money instead?
Tafuta Atarashī Aug 2019
No
song because
These are the kind of words
That no one sings.
This is a theme
we shouldn't repeat.
What we have is
Just a passing moment
Only a short poem
I hope you never see.

No.
There's nothing beautiful about this
Nothing beautiful about sin..
But you make it look so heavenly.
Tainted so my broken heart bleeds
Symphonies in every beat.

My
Every word's a sword.
Is it suicide then
When I tattoo myself with my pen;
Write my pain into permanence.
My late nights spent stuck in bed;
Yearning for a warmth that you never send.
I watch the coming dawn from the safety
Of my covers I-I-I'm tired from a sleepless night.
Happy that None can see me cry when the sunrise greets the new days sky
And I'm not feeling right
Cause I been left alone
To face a world
unknown

But
If I called you'd answer right?
If I text you when the moon's high,
And the darkness has settled,
And my mind meddles
With the idea of you,
You'd reply right?

If
I told you I need you…
Is that too desperate?
Rhetorical question
But I understand your objections
Of who I am.
For I now know
Know why the caged bird sang...
And why he fell silent.
Melody Mann Feb 2021
They splatter words into the atmosphere,
decorating the space with linguistic revelations and insight.
They weave terminology into sentences that blanket their passion
As he challenges, she debates feverishly,
it's a feat of wit and cognition.

Laughter and glee fills their beings and she pauses,
He says, "I honor thy stoic morning mask of incandescent art with a graceful bow"

All the while her heart swells with the incandescent composition he delivers.

His prose pauses her.
His mind captivates her.
His soul welcomes her.

She's fallen for a global linguist,
stunted in his travels due to a pandemic.
He has no space for her existence in his heart's scape,
Yet he leads her into this fantasy illuminated by the words he meddles.

She continuously falls without hesitation or fear.
Uncontrollable.
captivated beyond reason
SB Jan 2019
Oh how the sunset
Meddles with me
Golden flecks
Searing the sky
Split me open
And pour my tears
Like milk into a cats dish.
newpoetica Mar 2019
i'm beyond stressed.
i can't help but wonder when the good lord will let me rest.
the pressure is building upon my shoulders.
like the ocean swells that crash upon the cliffside boulders.
all of these tiresome, daily meddles.
i'm waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down and the dust finally settles.
my midterms are this week and i'm currently dying. (love being a disorganized AP kid! haha) and obviously i'm extremely stressed because my final yearbook deadline is also this week and wow just wish me luck you guys :'(
Pea Nov 2015
All along in my tongue mother comes she stays for quite a long time. it was all in my head when i decided i had my own taste because i certainly don't, i had been so tasteless before i was growing out of a broken moon in mother's funny womb.

My tongue is the ungrateful one. at least i can appreciate the fact that i once had purity but when in this silly world nothing greater than intensity and dirt all over the place so, basically mother saved me. she'd put all her might on my tongue and god it is definitely infinite!

Now stomach is exhausted and head understands too much, now and then they both ache for each other, they both are trying to ruin me again and burn me with jealousy. for all what i've done is mother's doings, for all what i've tasted is mother. honestly i can't remember anymore how neutral tasted like, how my own tongue tasted like.

All along in my tongue mother has been lazy and a queen. nothing moves her except i remove my own tongue, but twist is she only comes and stays and she never goes. (god isn't this pointless, what use of your face if i can't see it, if my feet keep dragging me further from your back, if my glasses keep shattering and my eyes full of sand?)

(Nothing is keeping me away from you anymore, even when mother nags in my tongue and sour thing meddles with my throat.) i have been emptier before but nothing matters anymore, i was here before i am not, now i must have known the taste i've lost because of mother or not because of her, it's actually nothing at all.
Not a joke.
What intentions?
forestfaith Oct 2018
how your eyes gazed across the vast oceans.
how your heart and mind wondered how you got here.
in the middle of nowhere, your song meddles with the distortion of waves.
afraid to fall.
afraid that when you need help it won't be there.

the sun is shining, your skin burning.
the sharks nearly got you.
the boat shaking,
the waves nearly got you.

one light shone, the sky dark,
the trees painted your eyelashes and the waves made the tears of your eyes.

light flashes.
camera clicks.
you remember again,
you were in that popular clique.

at home.
you cried again.
at the boat.
you were afraid to swim again.

can't change your fate.
going through a lot.
a star shone,
the Savior was born,
he reached down,
and you danced upon your heartache.
have hope yall!
1 Peter 5:7
Cast all your anxieties on him because he cares for you.
Big Virge Aug 2021
Now When It Comes To Weapons...
... That TRULY Threaten... !!!

Many Are DRAWN...
But What Can Be Called...

To Be The...

... GREATEST of Them All... !!!

But To Apply The Word... “ GREAT “...

ISN’T Quite What Relates...
To Weapons Displayed...
That Cause HURT And Give PAIN... !!!

So This Piece of Wordplay...
Will Look Into Weapons...
That Employ The BRAIN... !!!
And Others That STRENGTHEN...

How POWERFUL Folks...
Now Keep People CONTROLLED... !!!

So That Weapons Like These...
RESTRICT Our Human Breed... !!!

Just Like Technology...
Is Doing... CURRENTLY... !!!

And How People Who Lead...
Use These Weapons To KEEP...

The Masses In Zones...
Where Their Weapons Take Hold...
Like A... Viral Disease...
That Locks Down The Streets... !!!

WITHOUT Using Armies...
UNTIL It Is Deemed...
That We All NEED VACCINES... !!!

Do You See What I Mean... ???

Some Weapons Are CLEVER...
And Hit Like BAD Weather... !!!!

Or Dodge Like Mayweather...
When Facing Vendettas...
Brought By Boxing Fellas... !!!

And Then There’s Agendas...
That SPIN Just Like Blenders...
With Weapons CONTENTIOUS...
Like... VICIOUS Contenders... !!!

And What About Gender... ?

When It’s USED Like A Weapon...
That Nowadays THREATENS...
... Freedom of Expression... ?!?

A Weapon That’s Spreading...
Like GLOBAL INFECTIONS... !!!!!!

You SEE There Are Themes...
That Infuse Poetry...
With Thinking That’s DEEP... !!!

A WEAPON I USE...
To Speak On Issues... !!!

But Now See That Views...
That Deal In The TRUTH...

THREATENS And Lessens...
Your Chance To Get Through...
To Feed Masses Who...
Are Constantly Fuelled...
By Media Tools And Industry Crews...

Whose Weapons Are FOOLS...
Who’ll... Distribute Tunes...

That... AREN’T All That Good... !?!

But Are Given A PUSH...
By MARKETING CROOKS...
So The Masses Get HOOKED...
And Concerts Are Booked...

Because of The Way...
That Their Songs Get REPLAYED...
Day After DAY...
On Mainstream Airwaves... !!!

You See NOTHING'S As Straight...
As People... Like To CLAIM... !!!

When It Comes To The Names...
Who Are Constantly Seen...
Because They... ENTERTAIN... !!!

RATHER Than CHALLENGE Brains...
Through The Art That They Make...

CONTROL Is The Weapon...
That REALLY DICTATES... !!!

What It Is People Say...
In... Various Frames...

It’s A POWERFUL Tool...
That A Gun CAN Reduce... !!!

But CANNOT Take Down...
When CONTROL Is What’s Used...
To Give People CROWNS...
Or To RULE In Courtrooms... !!!

Which Now Leads Me To Courts...
A Weapon That Breeds...
... Many CONTROVERSIES... !!!

When People Walk FREE...
Or RIG... PRESIDENCIES... !!!

Because of Whose Given...
Supreme Court Positions... !!!
A Weapon That Meddles...
On... MULTIPLE Levels... !!!

When POWER Is Used...
To Distort And ABUSE... !!!

The Truth To Confuse...
Or To Change A Decision...
Like... WHO Gets To RULE... ?!?

And WHO Gets Positioned...
To SET The Conditions...
of How This World Runs... !!!

A Weapon That’s HUNGRY...
And Feeds OFF of MONEY... !!!
That... CONTROLS BILLIONS... !!!

A POWER That’s GREATER...
Than... ANY BIG GUN... !!!!!!

Or Bomb That Is Dropped...
To Aid An INVASION...
To CORRUPT Governments... !!!

Its QUITE An EQUATION...
That FUELS THIS Question...
When It Comes To Weapons... !?!

Because MANY Are Drawn...
And Leave People Forlorn...
But The Power of Thought...
And Sway In The Courts...
Like... MASS Distribution...
Breeds POWERFUL Movements... !!!

So Now In CONCLUSION...

Now Corona Has Called...
For Freedoms’ DOWNFALL...

Could BIO WARFARE...
Be What People Declare... ???

To Be The WEAPON...

That’s....

“ The GREATEST of Them All ? “
Now that humanity has, SO MANY, it's an interesting question, that asks, which one is the most powerful, or dangerous !?!
Kaley Kerchaert Dec 2016
Skittles imagine riddles,
Playing fiddles for gold,
Little did you know:..

Watch out missle..
In the middle of the road..

Kiddles invented peddles
That won Meddles for show,

This don't make sence but
Let it rock an roll!!  :)
Jason Margraves Mar 2018
Like a grocery store receipt left out in the sun, your smile fades,
there’s a form of comfort here, flowers placed on an unmarked grave.

We’re comfortable here, two strangers acknowledged with the nod of a head,
I agree, it’s probably for the best if we carry on, things better left unsaid.

A smile, a force - carving hope from this cloud of sadness,
there’s a miracle in the making that meddles in the madness.

You’re the good, the wrong and the heaven sent,
we’re the pieced together apology, lingering like a subtle scent.

Pinpointing tragedy from the point where words leak,
wealth to measure, blood shot eyes and happiness we seek.

We’re uncomfortable now, two life stories merging, our hands clasped so tight,
there’s comfort in the not knowing and not seeing through the veil of night.

A bombshell, a tremor it’s our indecision that makes quakes,
tactical division, invisible revision, there’s no longer a connection that we can fake.

Crumpled can, recycled and worth a tenth of your time,
gather enough energy, digging deeper into this sorrow to make you mine.

I’m crashed in the corner, under a canopy made of blankets,
I feel safe again, a reminder of my childhood filled with chicken nugget banquets.

I’m uncomfortable being comfortable, I tell you again and again through labored breath,
we could be stuck settling, secretly hating one another, a fate far worse than death.
solana Apr 2020
in a field of flowers
a flower stands still
looking the same
as every other will

in a field of color
with lots of room
there is no space
for change to bloom

in this field of beauty
this flower meddles
and wonders why
each flower has petals

in a field of judgment
and rules and stares
this little flower
does what no one else dares.

in a field of eyes
she takes off her petals
despite the judgment
that always unsettles

in a field of reactions
that differs upon each
this little flower explains
the lesson she wishes to teach

each flower stands the same
yet each is unique
for beauty is natural
and it’s not to critique
an absolutely astounding poem written by my friend gabriel <33
4-7-2020
Devon Brock Nov 2019
In this winter called Leviathan,
gorged be the meddles of men
lurched there, rustbound in ice
and enzyme.

And all that arcs over, whether
the crust limbed trees, or the white
tresses of sleet pinged on our heads,
mocks like a maul.

Roused and thus cursed by the makers
of beasts and things craving anvils
and the nails of undoing, undoing,
undoing us all.

And though it was said "Thou breakest
the heads of Leviathan in pieces..."
it is the heads of all men that break,
it is the wilderness fed.
Diya soni Sep 2020
Ohh you all
From where do you buy this reliance
Twisted in all crescent prominence
While I'm watering darkling shores
Tied with translucent encores
Maybe that's your forever swiftness
Adopting that shades and disappearing
Like a made of glass
Marching to the caravan of Dolours
And I'm not where I meant to be
But Things do heal in my duller dime
I'll make a rainbow
In a dumbly words
Dipped in lefted ecstasies
Tumbling down down
Unto the shrinked realms
Purling the lights and shades
Out of the colors that have faded
Your presence requested  
Till then
Im chattering here
Blending silly meddles
To the beat I drum  ..
Jill Tait Aug 2020
Mine eyes have seen the beauty in the bright blue sky and marvelled at our feathered friends as they flew by..an awesome daily dazzling sight seeing such brilliant birds on the wing in flight

I have listened to the wind whistling it’s tune as I stood star gazing by the light of the moon..collections of clandestine constellations giving me  fantastic fascinations..millions of magnificent sparking lights shining like little diamonds.. twinkling brights..Wow isn’t our Mother nature so unique as she meddles amidst the magical and mystique..
Eshwara Prasad Oct 2020
Where the human mind meddles

it spells trouble(s).

— The End —