Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Classy J Nov 2016
Diving into bath salts, raving flue that is as sicking as math, at least that is what I conclude from my findings presented to the court. Objection, objection, sir I don't see the connection, maybe your rhyme scheme needs perfection. Maybe it does, but ***** it, I'm blessed by God; baby please sit down and take a chill pill and just enjoy this buzz. Busting off, so back off, bout to prove my case like I’m Ace Attorney, oh and I know it’s off topic but if I lived in America, I would’ve voted for Bernie. What the **** am I on? Came to save the digital world you can call me a digimon, you bet I’m a champion! Serendipity dear deputy; I’ll be typically wittingly searching for some tranquility. What is the validity of this vicinity as I only accept notability and won’t let this become a liability!

Pathologically paraplegic hypochondriac with insomniac who be popping poems profusely perfect; while whimsically worm's try to be strategic, but sadly choke and lose it. Miles set apart; it certainly is not a strut in some park, but everyone has to start somewhere before they engrave their mark. Don't reside yourself to just being a silhouette, nor be one to toot your clarinet. Two sides to every person like Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde; be careful to not let your pride turn into carbon monoxide. For pride will always lead to your downfall, so please take off your iron curtain and tear down your Berlin wall. Improvident incongruous incredulous confidence; underwhelming astonishment of such fundaments of these heinous and callous acts of deceitfulness. Trickery of thy decadence; why art though jittery when you are full of benevolence? So used to getting what you want I bet; well this situation can not be fixed by dough, so I see why you are in a cold sweat! Fake confidence won't help you here especially when one lies; you made a mistake and will face the consequences and I am not one quick to forgive no matter how much you apologize.  

Don’t have time to consider your sensibility, because my life is going a twitter with too much hyperactivity for me to deal with your stupidity. Befittingly that I’ll be building up the intensity, to infinity and beyond goes this creativity of this anomaly. Not going to prolong this phenomenon, I’ll be going off like a Molotov over this intercom, yeah you better not ever underestimate this underdog. Lackadaisical are these other rappers; they’re so replaceable and incapable to be educational. Incomprehensible is this loop of hip-hop now a days, why can’t we be inspirational or is it to late because we left morals and substance back in the olden days. Can’t afford to be anchored anymore, I’ve poured in too much time to be just be locked behind some door. I refuse to be ignored and be left ashore; I am not worried about going into the storm; because you are bound to come across some things that need some work like chores. Spinning the wheel, reminiscing of how it felt when I no longer concealed who I was and my self-image had been healed.

Used to be reclusive & convinced myself that I was a duffass, but now I’m exclusive to being a smart ***. This is the new era, this is a new fire; it’s time to spice things up so better pull out the sriracha. Leading the revolution like I’m Che Guevara, I’m light as feather whatever the endeavor even if my life story doesn’t end up as pristine as Cinderella’s. Why so infatuated by worldly wants? Why so decorated when you can't hide the fact that you're the same basic *** font? Trying be something else, striving to be someone else, wanting to be anything else. You are who you are, if you think it will make things better you cucu, because in my eyes you are really a star. You have to expand your interpretation and perspective of life, you have to demand without hesitation a piece of that collective pie; because I believe everyone should be equal in this life.

Calculated bullets that go straight through my cranium; manufactured outlets that show great things but have also turned us into brainless aliens. Complicated hookups that grow irritating and become as unstable as uranium; what was once sacred has become as spontaneous as going to a gymnasium. Confiscated trinkets cast away and leaves those affected very irritate; while also simultaneously making apathetic souls that have gone through the same thing be able to understand, help or relate. Cultivated rebellious culprits that don't take the memo of being cooperative, instead they choose to be provocative and opposite of the other conglomerates. I’m so fascinated by this fabricated segregated supposedly liberated and sophisticated community; where-as some so foolishly stupidly amusingly think that everyone has the same equal chance at opportunity. Moderated, regulated and orchestrated where some are situated; if you don’t think that it has something to do with be affiliated to a certain demographic then maybe you never got educated in the affairs of those discriminated. It’s a good thing then that class is in session; so viewer or listener  please use discretion when taking time to witness or hear my position. Deafening out all ill whims; wrestling with these unsettling menacing fears and guilt from all of my sins.

Yeah no need for hallucinogens, all I need is two hydrogens and one oxygen. Rocking in my moccasins; so you can bet I am not one to drop my promises. Native honour who is also a innovative scholar and who was created not to falter. I may not be good with numbers, but I'm good at making sure you never slumber on my words; because I work on them day and night in my 36 chambers. Beware the pretender, they are manufactured by the vendors to keep us from being together. Defend your heart; be wise who you befriend and who you pick for your counterpart. There will be hurt and affection can be perverted, so know your worth and never ever let yourself be distorted. It is not your fault, it is not my fault, so then who is at fault? Is it just life in general? Is it because of the being who lives eternal? Is it all of the above? I don't know, but we shouldn't judge and instead choose to accept and love!

Pardon me Martin, but if this class were a prison I’d be the warden. I make the rules here and I took the tools given to me to get me here. So listen, please listen to my lesson that I have to present to you as class is still in session. Loading yawl with ammunition to be able to transition to be able to complete your goals or missions. No I’m not tripping, I’m driven  by a higher force to break away the old ways of thinking such as division. This is not the prohibition anymore, so please open your minds and join me on this expedition. Going into the unknown, so here’s to hoping you get through this, as time goes on and be able to look back at it we may feel like this was no more than a tiny but important milestone.  Achieve, believe, conceive, receive, intrigue, and succeed because I think you are unique. You are the only you in the whole galaxy, don’t let agony turn into tragedy; ***** anxiety; yeah and never let your dreams just be some fantasy.

Outro: Sit down class ain't over yet, forfeit those frowns or fake faint or try to jet. Lastly remember what transpired today; don't go hastily and forget about it on December break okay? For though class may be over, more days or years to come until its finally over. Though education ends, one never stops learning even on vacations with family or friends.  I hope you can look back with fondness, I hope you can stay on track in the future if you truly take the time to just focus. Is there truly an end or is this just the beginning to a new bend.
judy smith Jun 2015
4 harmful foods that benefit us too
Maintaining a healthy diet isn't easy as one has to be careful of every morsel of food or sip of drink that they consume. So when research reveals a positive angle to some harmful dietary habits, what should one do?

A recent study in London showed that those who increased their coffee intake by more than a cup a day were less prone to have Type 2 Diabetes. On the other hand, caffeine is known to increase blood pressure and isn't good for the body in the long run. Here is a list of food items that are considered harmful, but benefit us in some ways as well...

WHITE BREAD

Why it's bad: For a while now, white bread has been pushed to the back seat due to the growing notion that it leads to increased blood sugar and can ultimately cause obesity. The grains are processed in such a way that it strips the bread off all nutrients. Scientists at Tufts University in Boston also found that eating white bread increases your waistline, when compared to brown bread. Fitness expert Wanitha Ashok adds, "Eating white bread makes you hungry in an hour or so. When it comes to nutrition, it doesn't get the top slot."

Why it's good: Eating white bread isn't necessarily a bad thing as long as you eat the enriched variety that contains nutrients, especially those that are topped with oats and nuts. Research done by the Irish University Nutrition Alliance showed that white bread contributed as much iron and fibre to an Irish diet as meat or fish. Nutritionist Ryan Fernando says, "The only time we recommend white bread to anyone is after a good workout. Sports athletes, especially, eat white bread as it helps replenish glucose faster and it's beneficial for the muscles."

FROZEN VEGETABLES

Why they're bad: It is believed that fresh vegetables are better than frozen ones because of all the processing that takes place to freeze them and keep them fresh. A study done by the Department of Nutrition and Dietetics in Turkey concluded that thawing frozen veggies before cooking them led to the loss of Vitamin C. "This is just convenience food. Anything you store for a long time begins to lose nutritional value. Also, in India, there are so many electricity fluctuations, so it's better to keep fresh vegetables," says Wanitha Ashok.

Why they're good: Lately, a lot of reports say that frozen veggies are better than the fresh variety because they are picked when they are most ripe and frozen so none of the vitamins are lost.Also,a study done at the University of Chester shows that there was a decline in the nutritional value of fresh veggies when refrigerated com - pared to frozen ones.

EGG YOLK

Why it's bad: It's known to increase cholesterol, which is why people with heart conditions avoid egg yolk. It also contains a lot of fat,which isn't good for people who gain weight easily. A Canadian study says that regularly consuming egg yolks can lead to plaque build-up in blood vessels. Why it's good: "Egg yolk has essential nutrients and vitamins, especially when compared to egg whites, which don't have as much. One or two eggs yolk a day are recommended for children, whereas adults should have one to get their intake of necessary nutrients," says Ryan Fernando. The cholesterol in the yolk is needed for elders and children who have adrenal issues.

CHOCOLATE

Why it's bad: Not only does consumption of chocolate gradually increase one's weight,but people tend to cut down on it because of its caffeine and fat content. "Children get addicted to chocolate when their consumption is not moderated. It's harmful for diabetic people and the sweeteners in it are bad for the teeth," says Nainatara S, a consultant nutritionist. The high oxalates in chocolate are known to cause kidney stones. A study by the American Society of Clinical Nutrition showed that the higher the consumption of chocolate by elders, the more likely they were to be affected by bone disease.

Why it's good: Nutritionist Murali Subramanian says one benefit of eating chocolate is its antioxidant content. A study in the University of Illinois showed that consuming dark chocolate helped lower cholesterol and blood pressure. The antioxidants in the chocolate also help reduce chances of obesity and Type 2 Diabetes.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2015 | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
Daniel James Feb 2011
She was fire, I was water
And we made sweet condensation
The day, the month we met.
She turned me into steam,
Pure steam, in April, no less.
I quenched her raging thirst (I won’t forget)
We drank each other’s smoke
And sparked up *** and cokes
I took her fizz for fire
She took my ironic dampness for jokes.

At first,
All was elemental
And if she burned the bread I called it toast
And if water weighed her down we just got soaked
I did not try to put her out
She did not try to make me burn.

We’re not so different, said the fire,
One day to the water
I could see this month ignite,
Make a bonfire of our lives
We could sit there like a house on fire
Extinguished and set alight at the same time
I flowed around the idea and warmed to it
So I moved in and every day
I put the fire out that she had made
And every night she blazed
The oases that my love had made.
Until one evening Fire said,
While water brushed his teeth,
“Turn off the tap”.
And water, being fairly fluid in his actions
Did in fact for five years turn off that tap
In front of her at least, but behind her back…
I let it run,
                  let it go
                                 let it flow
                                                  flow
                                                      
                                                       flow
                
                                                        flow

                                                             !!!!

And it was not until the 1000th time
That something clicked
And the millioneth drip overflowed the empty sink
And I responded to her claim:
“We’re not so same.” I said.
She, understandably, had not consumed the context
As we’d just been talking about a friend in massive debt
Because of negative equity.
But now the tap was on,
“I’ll brush the teeth in this relationship
Or I’ll be ******!” Water flowed.
The tap was gushing now, the mirror fogged -
The drains were leaking back up out the bog
“For one thing, fire’s not a thing –
Me? I’m hydrogen and oxygen too
But you? You’re no thing, no thing at all.”
“What?” She said.
I couldn’t understand
How she didn’t understand.
I flowed right on down… right on down to land –
I was seeking earth, not fire, earth!
I’d been seeking earth all my life
And not realized until tonight – that night – tonight.
“And for a second thing – Fire’s so loud!
Crackling! Always with the constant crackle
Always eating, heating or causing hassle
Everything’s a hazard or an all-consuming passion
If we just kept calm, it could all be fine
But your fiery fingers always dialing 999.

“Right.” She said. “I see where you’re going here –
You’re saying I’m like fire – FIRE?!”
I said, Jeez we’re 3 pages in already,
I was hoping that much was clear.”
“FIRE?” She bellowed.
“Fire?” She scorched.
“******, he wrote.” I said.
“What are you talking about?” She asked.
“Just a poem I’m writing – it was a funny line, trust me.”
“Says Mr. Water?” She says, looking over my shoulder,
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“You might,” I say. “Anyway, Mr Water, what do you mean?”
“I don’t know, you wrote it, perhaps you can tell me.”
“You meant, by what I wrote, that water’s not known for jokes,
It’s too clear and see through to cause a face poke”
“And that’s the best water-related joke that you know?”
“No. But you just remember who is writing the poem.” I say,
Expecting a laugh.
No laugh.

Then she apologized and very humbly gave me the floor.
After (storming off upstairs and slamming the door and) pointing out
That all water does is sit around
And weigh things down
Making clothes darker and heavier
Surrounding everything with its slowly moulding love
And rather than consuming it up
Firing it up
Sparking it up
Burning and blazing ‘n
Combusting it up!
Water sits.
On what it loves
Which is down
And weighs it down with love
Envelopping it from sides and above
Surrounding it from five sides
And leaving only one way out for its victim –
Down.

I thought around it while she fried herself in perspiration
And I could see how she was not wrong
And I could see how she was not right
For I could see that I clearly was water
And I could see all sides – “I can see.” I said,
And should have left it there, “everyside of what you say –
I can see everything but your true… bottom.

Now when fire alights on bottom,
No thought can put it out
So we rejoin the action
An unspecified –but quite long- time later.
And when the steam settles,
Not much has changed.
The conversation resumes, Ground-hog style,
Ground-hog style, a year later, in a different flat.
“At least I have some substance!”
And again comes the tide I cannot hold back –
“At least I am a thing, I can be happy, I can be,
I’m not just a process, just an action, with an appetite for trees.
I’m not afraid of silence either.”
“Afraid of it? You saturate it!
You smother everything in silence
That’s why you like the snow –
I like the kind of weather that makes
Strangers take off all their clothes.
I like the crackle of the campfire
I like the chatter of friendly teeth in need of heat
I am ambitious, I need the next thing to consume
And yes I like being high and aiming higher –
With you it’s always down down down.
Sitting down,
Calming down,
Going down…
And when she said those magic words
I took the heat that I had heard
And channeled it like she could never do
Being a process and not a thing like me.
Channels are made of things directing process
I took her heat and channeled it
And all because
Those magic words
Going down.
No one likes a love that is damp she said
And so I made her fire wet
And all the while, during, after
We lay and drank in pools of laughter
We were liquid fire flowing
Every night the bed an ocean
The weather inside, hmm… snowing
Warm snowballs of love
Snowflakes of love
Snowflakes of fire
“Higher” She scorched, “ take me higher!”
“No you go down –“ I heard it spoken
And just like that the spell was broken.

I rippled, reflecting the ceiling for a while
In a silence even I could not contain
She processed the surroundings, the curtains, the rain
And burned them back to ash again.
An hour passed.
I was betting that she
Would internally combust
Before I drowned myself
To death in silence
Another hour passed
Slowly.
Ever so
Slowly. Not fast,
But slowly.

Then luckily,
12hrs passed in no time at all for me
In fact, I only awoke because my ears were burning me.
“Have you been asleep all this time?” they sizzled.
“Sorry,” I said, before I’d even had a chance
To remember the argument
And with that rather C-list magic word,
The matter was moderated, thirst quenched, problem passed.

Water sat there boiling.
Fire fumed there drenched.

“I’m not sure I can do this much longer.”
Said water to fire.
“I feel I am spreading myself too thinly on you.”

“You are.” Said fire.

“I don’t like being spread thin.
I see less of the world reflected
In my shrinking puddle.

“Light up my life again!” She burned.
“I can not.”
“Will not.”

“Will not is cannot.”

“Cannot is not will not.”


“Cannot is not will not does not make sense.”



“Does.”
“Does not.”
“Agree to differ?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”

“Stalemate.”

“What?”

­…

“You’re
  
         draining away from me.”



    
                                 smoke.”
                               in
“You’re going up


And with that, one morning, they both woke up.


Alone…
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2010
Transferred attention some where else
Then lost my train of thought,
Added an item to my list
Of stuff I should have bought.
Forgot to say those silly things
That make it all worth while,
And found myself in jockey shorts
With a lost and vacant smile.


Left the toothbrush in the toilet
And the razor in the lounge,
Fed the dog the ****** cat food
And the goldfish had to scrounge.
Woke up early on the weekend
And slept in late for work,
Is it really any wonder
That my  wife has gone beserk ?



Distracted moments come and go
As life progresses on,
But in these periods of bewilderment
Have I come or have I gone ?
The confusion is annoying
It's like emerging from the mist
And embarrassed explanations
Leave my kid's expression ******.


Conversations breeze along
I'm having trouble with the terms
The children utter gibberish
Which I've no desire to learn.
My old friends speak in whispers
Quite impossible to hear
And the clink of moving cutlery
Keeps dinner parties from my ear.


I guess a change is needed
Maybe, a less demanding day,
Where physicality is really secondary
Where exhaustion doesn't play.
Where the bodies limitations
Are tempered to the task
And a moderated output
Is, perhaps, the best that you can ask.


I've lost my sense of humour
The world is racing by too fast,
This mobile phone's a nightmare
And ****** TV remotes I'm past.
And whatever happened to coffee
At my favourite Bridge cafe ?
Now the order is for decaff,
No cream, half strength, moccha frappe !!


Age is such a ******
It's asset is it's stealth,
One moment you're a titan
The next you've lost your health.
One moment you've got flowing locks
The next you're bald and grim,
Is it any ****** wonder
That growing old is such a sin.

Marshalg
Grumping@theBach
Mangere Bridge
10 August 2009
Wajid Doumani May 2014
Burial of fury in a tomb of apathy,
mood moderated and aligned with conformity.

Speech pleasant in tone and comfortable in delivery.
Approaches with cautious optimism his tasks daily.

Though the ship of consciousness has raised its anchor,
he returns to questioning the whereabouts of his anger.  

Yet time and chemistry have dispensed of the mystery.
Restoring balance and forging will to function socially.
The thought of being calibrated to society
Max Hale Jun 2015
The morning awakes with stuttering respect
Night time peace is past.
The new day to me is opportunity
Familiar movements from my love
Sadly recognising that rest is done
At least for the moment
Refusing to wholly awake is one I know.
She feels that more sleep would be...well
Even on days off the climbing out is a considered move
More considered, than move
I love her for her familiar ways
My moderated interaction has taken time to evolve
I understand, we can't all be the same
I love her for what she is and has taught me
Patience and tolerance
Oh how much I've learned about myself

Love is an acceptance of difference
A morphing of two ideals
A belief that neither is right but then...
Neither is wrong
Maturing love is a joy that has moved from blindness
To being at peace with your lover
But most of all it is the recognition
That you are with someone
Who cares, understands and forgives you
Overlooks odd ways and strange sayings
The underlying passion of true love
Never recedes or diminishes, but grows
Easier in the knowledge of  an element of comfort
In wonderment and true happiness
Our jagged edges of self are no longer apparent
And the depth of our rounded love clasps us together
In time and space
K G Jan 2017
My face blew up at such a casual sight
Every minute is moderated by a memory or concern
The shower's fog clogs my throat, yet it feels right
Because the surface of your heart never embraced mine

There's an opening gradually slipping and wearing thin
I'm freezing to the bone and you're steaming homes
Plucking the pearls and personality from me, inch by inch
And I thought you'd be different
KG. ULTRA II
Thousand years ago, the world somewhere began
an escape, a thousand years later still trying to get to the end, but my body becomes a decorative piece, becomes of a number one digital romano ... that turns into flames cinch and dressing this base disencounter ; that is my physical, on an all, regardless of who will manage and the rule ... "

... I find it hard to breathe ... i do not know if i can continue what i have proposed ....
there is so much to say. i never wanted to write about it. and now i am here, changing the paper by words.
   better...... so nobody will remember anything, thanks to the evanescence. I have nothing to leave, no one for whom to stay here. i just hope to leave my soul in peace ...
   ... tonight i die.

**** dreamer who i am! i never got anywhere by myself. i never got to be what it was if it had not been for someone else.
   my days, my whole life governed by feelings ... they left me?
  
Inserts 1 - full moon in three shooting lights threshold pierced window shades sea view. there were three golden stingrays. they went to his room versailles, with some electricity that flowed from their bodies corps plans were roots electro-magnetic. upon entering threshold, their bodies pressed proportion to the input capability, but yes, each tidily came one after other. snipf believed to be asleep yet, but ***** it finding that was very real., many thought to pray, the saint who heard his confession had derived dimensional elsewhere.

Each stood before him. they looked with your eyes ldeep blue, relighted one in your iris reddish tint. your long antennas your heads caressed her room like recognizing them. snifp raised his arms as if embracing them, but put them over his head like imitating them, so began to turn, as if he were at the bottom of the ocean. this way, began to rowing with his arms in the room. the four members looked at each other, until snifp stood in between them, restarting your memories and confession to your new species of visitors. - no doubt their gods were they who visited because they were the ones that helped him in difficult and conflicting tasks. they must be highlighted; no le imposed a religiousness, only you your matches proposed delayed stages,

Four together, sit finally, focus on one thought as he took him to snipf arm for lease gate reality. aso these blankets emit a high-pitched noise that made snipf his new travelers to dream where would be the master sea and land beside them.

Romanticism is only rain emotions between winter skies sweetened; it is the cessation of rain from storms deaf. those deaf people who never believed in sentiment. Perhaps they have died without discovering it, and so poor and eager to continue living. instead i say goodbye to my land, my things, my memories. i'm so overjoyed without missing anything because what i miss is dead.

Insert 2 - feel distant sounds thunders and lightnings - some cats stumbled after feeling loud noise.

   I was born in 1832, dressed in beautiful costumes me, but i was on saturday mornings bathe with my blankets friends, all that leave very soon because every day stuttered more, and i found it hard to beat in my talk. They moved me with all my belongings to higher school, even only place to hear the bells of the cathedral, filled me with hearing loss and mortuary pain inside me was a place that then fled, over time i graduated from journalist, without anyone in my family believed in me. they never could understand my lack of realism. some call me naive, not without reason, i must admit.

   It's curious. whatever it is that one wants in life, always have obstacles from the people closest. from them comes the pain of misunderstanding and apathy. of them come from the larger wounds heals any ointment. Until i met a fisherman near a marina rivera long in a bar, then he told me his adventures and i became the eager boy children's stories. that night made me drink and drink until you drop at the side of a fishing terminal on the deck of a great ship.

Insert 3 - sleep - my in between growth stingrays, they were flying at night over my house, and sometimes brought me messages about the new season climate. interrupted my homework prepared, and most important, including, the most important; me included among the best, to sail with them. some among their ranks, me and took me taught to fly, although i always kept my body cold, completely oblivious to provide me own will enough heat. they gave me when stuttered or epileptic seizures, they did me your riding world where no disturbance physics i was afraid. But my blankets, me covering, me had in his pilgrimages slitting sea, sea to own and only, just for me. noises in them moderated my ears oversensitive, and for the first time vi from the sea depth rain fell as planting the ocean, as vast brightening the room he shared alongside them.

Insert end -

my life was empty without a firm helm, but ... god!
   she was several years younger than me. a beautiful creature in sight and confined to good feelings. i met a rainy night. she was with hat, with umbrella. we were heading to the same place where there was no one, because the activity had been suspended. after waiting and exchanging timid and nervous words we decided that we would be together forever.

   I do not mean it was love at first sight. rather, it was like finding my soul mate. and although we knew that the road would be hard and painful, we launched into a destination built by us and our struggles.

it's beautiful outside, with the moon through the trees can they see me sitting here or your mind round inside me?
   All of me are gone, even the children we never had. they left me in the cold. she will not sit in front of my fire more, because now she is snow.
    Is dark outside, trees writhe can they wait or live without me?
   but his fingerprints are still marked, marked in the snow left in me. everything is so white that hides the traces of tears that you never saw. everything is a blanket of snow falling on the memories you used to have. But even heart aches as before, i can not help feeling that someday come back from the dead to take your hand.
  
it's warm outside; the trees are gone. my soul took another turn. he never appeared someone like her. if your fingerprints are still, and i can see them in the snow! Everything is so white that covers the trails that she was not allowed to continue. everything is nothing, that clouds the movements that made me.
   But my heart is still suffering as he did. you followed the path that never again will bring.

I am confined to my bed in a dark room. i have a window overlooking the sea from the east, and another that puts me in front of the forest. i left on my bed a wooden box with yellowed leaves are the letters we sent her and i for so many years. yet i keep them all ... no, it's not true, many were lost in the fire flash - she will walk through the park until a curtain falls separating both. - pauses then your thinking and strongly bites pencil in her mouth was.

But no matter, i have the words engraved in my memory. and that will continue.The branches of the tree, which adjoins east window of small ones are ways to my walking, like war heroes. further, on stretchers, bring my faithful subjects in about trust management mi. but to raise my head like a big diving, they come see some maimed, come without it, come without his presence, bring only pieces of his body.
    
Our whole life, a very short time we were together, and not that we would not be, but there was always something that separated us. first the family, then the distance. We were separated and had to go in your search. at that time i was studying and trips were long, tedious and very damaging to my career, by the way, my family did not look favorably upon our union, rather than being recognized by men had communed in the sky ...
  
How i detest this ancient time! it is not day nor night, and i am not a man more educated to think more than this ... i hate to see the sun when i pray to the west, but someday she will take my dreams where the stars shine, where all they talk with their hands, without anguish nor grief, where all secretly want to go where the beauty sing constantly.

[ellipsis n 1]  

Adulthood - in the municipal choir - snifp came with his briefcase wondering if had kept all their material header, then trying to put his hand to pocket inner his coat, pulls out a key, this will be falling from his hands, and could realize there was a leaf on the floor, announcing a performance coral group in the premises of the municipality.
[end ellipsis 1]

[ellipsis 2]

Children age - in the conservatory - this brings another memory your memory with air fire, a dense air, movement of people, unable to help each other. it was toward the end of his second childhood, with his mother ran near a school where she thought enroll for classes theater.  mourn strongly but his mother, asking what was wrong? she said nothing for you not to worry. small but was snifp intuited by the uncertainty of their economic resources. he hugs her and says he has talent, that will come after all. snifp for a moment lets his mother and a photo seen in someone like his father, leaving the building and walks cobblestones wetted by the ***** of a vil exploited horse, and suddenly caresses their hands caress end the cabinet of the lord of the book store. and see i was like his father, but this time had the pipe on the left hand and lenses in the right hand. then, scare away horse and scared snifp trying to crossing the street leading the news to his mother. Her, i had signed up for next season.

[end ellipsis 2]  

After his assistant will take a reactant concoction snipf felt memories of those rejuvenated, making faces on the wall of his room. some of them were very funny and some not. but suddenly crossing the fingers tightening strongly and fix your clothes. buckle his belt. to sing is arranged, to shout and satiated to see if it really true the spirit that motivated him aires to be acquired new life. gets, fell knee, runs open window. try to touch everything with his hands, then kick chair to sit down and write. for each paragraph writing was setting and take off  lenses. for every paragraph, she took a sip of boiling concoction that was with him at that time

   Many of these letters were written thought in poetry. some might object letters "form", but the content, our feelings ... they can not be judged by anyone. I can not symbolize things. for me a bottle is a bottle. i need to reach a level of abstraction, because i recognize that everything beautiful i've seen i remember; because i know that to forget, everything will fly in the wind. so i can not symbolize anything. on the other hand, i know that everything that meant something to me, i could never do completely reach your heart. i hope to be wrong.
- get your consultant with tray in his hands unite.
snipf lord, your medicine. remember that leave this excerpt stingray than recommended by your doctor. You and your advisor and the look before opening the door thinking it would the last time i'd see him, then snipf recommences his speech ._
... i consider myself a failure fledged. some of those past failures are transmuted into fertilizers for ephemeral successes, lost in the sound of the wind beneath me accommodating my feet to tie them to my chair inquisitor.  TO  BE CONTINUED
SCREENPLAY ONIRIC POEMS - MAIN CHARACTER SNIFP  THE STINGRAY - under edition
Lawrence Hall Jan 2023
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

        Sinners in the Hands of an Angry Moderated Commentator

How comforting to know that at the end of this plod
Despite each fault and flaw and fall and fail
We will be judged by our loving God
And not by the readers of the Daily Mail

(Cf. “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” Jonathan Edwards)
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2014
5 X 5

sitting in that chair, once more,
that chair that is my picture of me...

One:
The bay laps quiet rhythmic hellos
knows better than to ask,
just graciously accepts,
one of us says Hallelujah,
and the other, Selah!

a torrid summer of morose and illness,
lingers still, and here I am, cosseted,
comforted by familiar comfort foods,
baby waves, the gentlest of precision-crafted currents  
of air, all together a baklava so sweet,
one could forgo forever eating,
but never, writing of them, to you

Two:
Crumpled tissues,
absorbers of ****** fluids,
crumpled poems,
absorbers of mental fluids,
evidence of a body and soul's
dismal anguish, creativity extinguished,
weeks of weak, months of morbid,
were the pretense that a lovely physical shelter exterior,
could ever successful well-mask the human upheaval within,
as if a summer tan could disguise the illness exposed in his eyes

Three:
Sun of moderated fall heat enters via the nostrils,
crimping the bacteria of depression,
that come from an overrun immune system,
a summer of discontent for the summer man,
who has been encapsulated by the suicide
of a man he knew only from his humorous artistry

am I better? some. healed?  of course not...
but here I begin a summation of my silences,
that came with no explanation substantive,
for which I formally apologize

Four:
Four is for me, a self-addressed postcard,
way past the point of clean slates,
I am a blackboard with years of dust cumulated
from scrawls, equations, mistakes,
and here n' there a teachers favorite,
a large exclamation point!

decide that it is perhaps time
to relearn how to write poetry for pleasure,
wipe that chalk dust off some,
not for pain disclosures hall marked,
though the pain must be played through,
today, a new season starts and my record,
unblemished a perfect 0-0

Five:
Why 5 X 5?  No idea!
this is how it starts for me,
a title, a notional emotion,
a horse rider with a head,
but no body attached,
no direction home,
and the words, disassociated,
pulled together and now there are
five babies tendered for your
care and consideration,
perhaps even,
for your pleasure...
Sept. 7th,  2014
if I had to choose one sense, then, once he wrote:
what then, weary reader,
is the supposed Laureate's approved analytical tool?
(How to Read a Poem (Hint! not with your eyes))
Taste

Each letter, a morsel in your mouth,
Each phrase, a fork full of pleasure,
Each stanza, a full fledged member in a tasting menu,
Perfect only in conjunction with the preceding flavor,
and the one that follows,  and the one that follows.

Taste each poem upon thy tongue and then pass it on,
you know how....

Each word, whether chewed thoroughly,
or lightly placed upon a bud for flavor,
needs the careful consideration of your mouth.

Feel the light pressure of the tongues tip upon the roof of your mouth
and the exalted exhalations of air rushing past thy cheeks
as you messenger breath from your chest to be shared with the world,
over the poem's interpreter, your tasting lips.

As I lay each word down, a brick by brick edifice construct
of mine own design, I am sated, fulfilled only,
when with I see your lips move as you savor my words,
my taste you share, and we are closer for it.

Deaf, dumb and blind, all such travails can be conquered, assailed,
but when I cannot, no longer anymore taste
my poems upon thy lips, then I breathe no more.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2019
Nostalgia April 2015

Greek for “the pain from an old wound”


~~~


time changes words,
the origin-rawest meaning,
oft too harsh and
thus re-sweetened,
moderated for modern
sensitized sensibilities,
no offending anybody anytime

par example,

awesome

was
fearful, terrifying,
alas, now plaster recast,
merely a
junk food word,
a billions times hamburger oversold,
poor little word,
misunderstood,
abused,
clearly, nowadays not
awestruck
by its awesome
past historical
usage

nostalgia

is not a photograph-word
for framing,
in old fashioned sepia colored hazes,
look-backs with
no risks in attendance.
a minor case of
a wistful heart
edged perhaps burnt,
but imagery intact,
always
somewhat sweet,
somewhat sad,
perhaps at worst,
bittersweet

Crap

let me roar now
my anger,
let me vent
mea veritas primogenius

the awesomeness
of the hurts
borne from
ancient lives that I escaped
but yet empowered
to let

nostalgia

make the hate,

the pain from old wounds
refreshed, re-reddened,
living, extant,
wounds forty years young

from places
where a woman hurt me,
hurt me willfully
thus permanent provisioned,
nostalgia is
a daily pill
of accumulated memories
of misuse,
she,
evil calculating so...

take that AM pill
for
maximum hurt,
can only be swallowed dry

weak,
like a Greek
God,
who were
more human than humans,
tag me enraged,
un-gauged,
no
measure of measure
for me,
bitter herbs,
a morning's mourning
potent sweet potion


~~~

in this place,
poem
prior confessed lovingly
an amiable self-pleasuring
an artifice,
enjoyed,
deconstructing words
for hidden meanings^

this a pean pain penned,
truly
an old fashioned bittersweet
sepia colored, burnt caramel colored
rage

this is not
your mother's
the-modern-nostalgic

recalled with
mixture of the painful pleasure
of
no forgiving the sins of
omission of a father,
who could not love openly,
or
the sins of sons,
in turn equally
guilty
of an
insufficiently telling his
pop,
I love you plain
vanilla simple,
regret for love not well
spent}

but this is not the truth of
nostalgia,

just plain regret
of acts of love
not demonstrated
~~~~
this poem,
this day,,
this pain enraged,
old wounds enflamed,
how I gave up to misery
the better part of a life

This is Nostalgia
in its ancient usage
and God help me,
should I ever see her,
I will school her
in the sourced origins of words

Greek algos, pain

and tell her
she sourced me
hell well,
four decades
make me unashamed
to say on this planet,
there are those
even good ole
Natty
will never
forget/forgive
only recall with the
summation of
nostalgic pain,
wounds still
draining
dedicated to my ex.
^see my poem
(I love) Dignity,
Fallen Angel Aug 2015
Like most would do on Halloween, we'd wear a mask to be a person or a thing that we aren't usually,
But do you wear one so you can hide what is on the other side? Another side that you have on the inside that divides you like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?
It's not uncommon to hear that most of us fear how we would appear to our peers and the ones we hold dear.
It's worn to protect them so it won't affect them to a point where we're rejected, disconnected or projected as more than defected.
The main difference with those who wear it is what we have to bear; what most wouldn't dare to share or just scared for the unprepared.
It could be our best friend or worst enemy; the complexity of its identity are incidentally formed either chemically, mentally or even manifest destiny.
How we choose to cooperate with or tolerate it is based off how it is incorporated in our moderated or complicated lives.
The level of comfort is great when the mask is lifted; like the weight has been shifted straight off my face, can you relate?
This mask is about to break so I must take it off and I won't make another; I need to relieve this ache and stop being fake. Please do not forsake, for it is time for me to be awake.
Dante Rocío Aug 2020
Fascination in obscure
words or sensations
in my deep states,
seemingly insecure or even uncomfortable concepts to some
yet holding a great enigmatic eloquence
in elegance
when looked at through
a different prism of the crystal.
I could even say that my
Deep Stateness
is of the copper-dark
radiating scarlet paired
with lilac,
inky blue
and grey mist
at the Lighthouse Keeper’s shift
when all stories come alive
and what’s seemingly real
turns feeble.
An example word of such would be: “Incalescent”
or
“Evanescent”.
It holds that feeling
independently
from its cognitively
given definition.

Astrality, to me,
if you’d like to ask as a help
for placing it,
may be most probably
the aforesaid
Deep Stateness married
with the presence of My Lover, otherworldly consciences
without words
(as if I were some astral being
embodied
and aware of its misbelonging
to this world
and my moderated
female body)
and my Fernweh
for my Home.
It’s also that Phronemophiling,
like a thing greater
than getting high on drugs.
It is also my endearment
at my antics
or getting Philosophy
in me and what I read
as lovely,
playing naked on guitar
at night alone in silent dark
with trust in my eyes without glasses, looking at stars bravely
without this handicap device
and lonely daring the world
to tell me
I cannot see them without it
on,
using the strong reverberating
of my voice so pulsing out loud
with sureness and passion,
or fascinating at my tears
for more than two days
whilst in commotion
after reading deeply
“The Dead Poets Society”.

Surely you must have felt it
one way or another some time.
One of so many prompts I’ve been and will be
To underline and give form
to my blessing of the sacrality
God made me to be in walk and affect,
I’m a breathing temple
with my irises and senses for ornaments.
A try to approach it to you.
N*1 of “x” heeds.

From a HP conversation own
In a lost paradise where the sea shrinks with feminine conscience, compassionate flashes are ratified in each groove and I calculate footage, this previous present attracts the magnanimous representation of the lightning emission of its speech representing itself where the queen judges the king Consummatum Est, with little difference from culinary art and its very dense genre. Here is the carious aspect of the bluish faskéloma or exasperating of the paws that move the occasional ones in sub-vibrations softening in the shiny mark of the sessile columns in consistency of its weak receptive propagation and masculine science, lacking what prospers with moist regulars of flashes that are cooling from their imbibition. With thousandths of his enchanted parasitizing and prior ego I wonder afterwards not far from a Para-Celestial and sacrilegious lore of Lochnith; Who, what and where would have been able to support such or such, rising on the beams and girders that make a whole for an inaccurate Menthe, going to the arcane of the seventh external love with clear magenta lights, on rounded ultraviolet reliefs, here is where everything lulls from the adverb Eleusis, seething with a consonant flight that suffocates in spite of a Pseudo Vernarthian, where it will go without any exception disrupting the courses of hesitation, leaving no more the divine portent and going back to the loaded Cibatus or barley in northwests that flatten ultra winter, mowed down to its glacial bluish water discharge in unequal thickening of fast secrets with thirds of vox with bordering called in pair of trios, and symbolic of a reborn flashed subsoil of a lifetime swollen in its low course and ministerial occultation that isolates itself on Patmos. The skies were beaten where nothing germinates from dreams waiting for thousands of those like me with acute senses of the Anthesterion, or of March taking me towards an enigma not posed even if it is not clarified yet not resigning from love or smelling in the singular uni-lunar desolate with venerable fulminations and inquinas of the branch of the bakchoi, which was whistled by an Aulós that was remade generic when restarting fasting from a day rebuked and repaid in the emaciated Cibatus. Such light grasses were polarizing prohijadas when recovering from resounding beginnings of the rhizomatous aromatic nuance, and from super life machined from the metallic oscillation of the fires and rites ruined in the aromatic arthrophagous of Lochnith, nauseating at night in flowing enigma and gramineous rictus, intermingling while he longed for the ritual and his graceful plumes in feasts that honored his Canephores transferring mead towards the bakchoi psychic adept revealing himself from the masculine to the feminine in aqueous positive bed and supra negative redemption, which was fading into sharp matter attended while the world was created that they would live with more than forty stratagems, seeing themselves praised before their eminent Truth. Myself…being its own tyranny…, which erects whoever classifies it sacramental, and notices the squalid lack of control of its barbarism flash when I still pursue the darkness of my purge that is falling even without finding where to do it, falling however from its end and of guilty thunderous glances..., what more public decree do I wish, for more rituals that you have close to you when feeling sharp minorities of its aftertaste although in double life and night your memory continues to spy on whoever denatures you from the paganism of Lochnith, more than a proselyte , plus that a lien conceived in dethroned galleys of homeland and fusca haze. Meanwhile, quantities of Omphalos from the ego micro center are distancing themselves from mine, my faded lost throne hallucinates lost knowing that it is a probable sculpted flash subject to the gleaning of the Cibatus in fraction of the cereal ritual, and of sanctified illumination with tableares that have to dwell all the times that they revive from the vivid purple red, and from the debtor clairvoyant mystery sky that is reviving in the revealed luminescence that throws it in ornate nickels and acidic rattles at midnight falling on a positive particle devoid of yours returning to mine, and preparing for the flashing praise that pigeonholes him from his crippled fallacious and previous theory suggested after favors by not being reconverted. Lochnith capitulate capitulation suffers from glare towards her beloved, placing his phalanges on circular and angular waves on the virtual milky river of Eleusis caressing her face and glare from her. “I, Lochnith, was on the cliff with my Canephor Aerse, near his Athenian paternal landlord, I was going to say goodbye to myself and carelessness, not being able to see myself in the reflection of the water separated from my ego, knowing that Aerse would not choose me, much less to my abandoned superior.

In Keri on the Island of Zakynthos, I synchronized the fall of Aeschylus in Leucas, which perhaps without my local would offend me by reputation and snoop on cliffside suicides that only see nascent effigies of the bakchoi as a potion for serials of life and cities of the incongruous dramatic space , where its tragedy and antithesis do not fit in the basket carried by my priestess Aerse. I am flying over the structures of the acropolis, not yielding as a deity who prophesies where there is no room for the world in which she and I can inhabit. Lochnith, jumped after her as she was falling down the frontispiece of the cape..., She watched him as he fell..., forbidding to skew him from his gestures and get close to her so as not to fall where the wind is more docile and free, intervening with pashkein inclination or entangling them of the vipers and rims of the heroic hair in a condition of evanescent reckless touch against her suitor, trapping her from the Omphalus that she had tied to her neck transferred from brilliant didactics before a puerile boxing of vicissitudes, and spring flower shops next to the flayed serpents of Persephone and Kashmar floating on the Lilies of Aerse. Prey to the escarpments and cliffs, she remained possessed among the sedimentary dolomites that emanated near her veins before plunging down the steep side in over cascading prayers for her, always knowing that he would love her on a singular base of enchantments while he looked smiling before fall yielded In the end, forty-one seconds she was thrown off the cliff..., Lochnith passes from one end to the other the Omphalus of her neck by a lofty plume ready for love, imagining herself in the midlands of a ruthless positive affection of the mysterious flashing Eleusino, and by the divided ***** that took them as they fell into a splendid world with serials and images of Aerse, tied to the prehensile sacrifice and the cold hand of Lochnith, together as they fell between their subconscious selves, becoming heaped and vivid as something plunged towards them fleetingly, knowing that he I was going to survive him.

Lochnith's gleam was northwest of Athens once lost in the scrupulousness of a pagan polis and cult that kept docked in the sands to find her on the cliffs of the acropolis, where they had lost each other after two thousand years since they Theodosius abolished by decree the rituals of Eleusis. With revulsion and unprecedented insight, Aerse remained a recluse with excessive eagerness to self-eliminate, possessing for both the due imagination that he had possessed of the devoid neckline of the omphallus causing the inclination of the avalanche and their bodies towards where they supposedly would land on the divine and Dionysian path which leads to the eschatological of Vernarth's Diokitis. Apparently they were leaving as a result of an immortal Vernarthian existential catastrophe or decline, at the same time of a rhythmic alkaloid hemlock with its Achene that carried them for any pretense by being triggered towards the meeting with Persephone without her or he knowing why to fester at Eleusinos as Lochnith and Aerse in a single concentric whole, and quantum beings of the octagonal by the straight or transversal line that slipped into the hypotenuse at the instant that they were conceived implicitly as they took him from relapses when he went towards Aerse, after winding up from his conclave Hypomorphic writing and Magna Mater Misterica. Under the established power of his ministerial, the redemption that went in adjoining the ins and outs was consigned to resurface from the subgenre, and from himself procreating exultation with the analogs of Vernarth that were prolonged in excremental purges and disagreements of the cult of what should be twisted in the ****** of the magnetic genre and of positive tendency that would be eternalized after the cessation of the active decrees by Theodosius. Eminently Aerse suffered on some semi-dead watery slabs next to Vernarth, she remained after the agreement to centralize what irradiated her humanly as semi-Itheoi from a reinforced gender that was cohesive in retrograde worship to achieve pre-flowering in all the springs of the world, where they could be seen together with Persephone in the finnis that was distanced ultra terrestrial towards a dowry of profusion and disproportionate wealth, not being categorized as a mystery rather as an unknown of a super method of rummaging in the lanterns where no reflection of Aerse could to be found by Lochnith after getting lost in the polychrome figures of the acrotera, lying in watery nitrosities on the escarpment of the cliff. Physiology will influence Eleusis with systematic naturalness for the active hydrogenated elements, and of such unknown prebiotics or phyto-estrogens where remnants of the great sepulcher of humanity are manifested, as it is found to rise from the true hecatomb of July with a hundred halters arranged with foreign beings towards the oasis of transition. The little will of the annals will multiply in millennia of obscurantism, taking him in transit to a more exciting late management by harassing the search for Aerse in a clear mystery already in the jaws of a clamoring night by the reefs of Demeter for those who know about Persephone! even being with the inventive fallacy of a addicted spirit in correlation to the rite and its lineage. Every night that he convalesces, he will look sleepless with the servile promise of divinity from a vision that fades from the winepress and the Boedromion party, moving from the born ****** position of a hierophant towards the mold that dies and that does not renew itself from Boedromia itself. The representation of Aerse was reflected with transfused majolica and Eleusinian threads when she was seen walking from the beginning floating remotely in the meadows of the knoll, from which the cyclical anagram of the lost cliff rises when it separates from its Adonis being able to expose them in mythological treachery and transcended from epic truth to be related to the treaty between Zeus, Hades and Demeter for the rescue of Persephone after being dented from the beginning of the arcana that sprouted from a distorted symptomatology. She aerse carried the flayed serpents even on her body as if she should look for them in an omnipotent volatile gray so that it would come out by itself and be unguarded by her gone eyes, witnessing secrets and resting in anarchy from where there is not and will not be. Archon or governor What a mesmerizing problem is improvised from second after third that provoke astonishment to see him in the course that he could not have of his cursed detection! Aerse was beginning as a curious Canephore, he came to meet his ephebes Lochnith after excessive self-inferred hypotheses by following him at her command detailing the Kykeon that paled her psychotropically from a discarded and mineral exhibition, of which she would be devoured by the numinous portent of the Mashiach with his Sunday appearance or concerning the numen manifested with the eternal powers in front of the hieratic presence of the man who looked at her paternally, with a crass profile like a Damian Hessian drawing them in, plotting in a colossal fascinating stealth. Here she wraps him up but does not approach him and falls, lost in love, such a Faustus dilemma, granting herself at the initiation of the portal of the twelve lunar months in Eleusis, with immutable years and origins where they will bounce to meet in childhood that made them known as Aerse and Lochnith . Here in the greatest trance of life, both would begin to overcome all the twists and turns of the gestated gloom that separated them due to the shaken annoyance and confusion still divergent in sediments of runoff and bark oscillations that emerged from the unevenness of the acropolis, until a meeting in the amazing light and divine libertarian of two tendernesses, and martyrdoms that purely push them back towards a new end of the muddy gleam in a found paradise where the sea unfolds by male consciousness and is ratified mercifully in each flash of the striated. They will meet again in similar attachments divided by the fluctuating one who unmasks the one who drives him away with his dominant ******, and ill-advised caudal space seducing the contiguous public and private astral bodies that have never been coarse or dissimilar in ablution or sacraments of gods the pagans, everywhere nor whatever its fragmented remains by the gullies and ravines of the Kêphisos. After the remnants in politics, the desolate serpents of Aerse flowed down the river, as a link section that declared itself from an initial that was an evident flash that enveloped them as a cardinal canon with bucolic politics in all the nearby regions. Athenians, after the vertiginous regressive parapsychology like an Eleusino flahsback or Anadromí sto Parelthón Eleusia, with the visualizations of Aerse and Lochnith when they follow each other through the learned induction of feedback that was arranged in the inclinations of both, refining their morphological bastimento for the purpose of instituting them as articulators of the evocation of the millennia. Prophecies were reported from the 8th century BC. with ends, and interprocesses of the eternal in the unknown mystery that began to be clarified with the reinvented personality of the amendment of Life and Expiration experienced with Lochnith of the month of Boedromia, fleeing from a federated Polis that would be unified to a substantial dimension and of sacred Eleusinian space with brand new warmongering for the culminations of being incorporated into the Hexagonal Primogeniture integrated in this way in the indissoluble ephemeris of foundation and hegemony of the Megaron or Opisthodomos of Patmos. This is thanks to the beaten serpents that were nesting the reanimates of the question with subterfuges that make the widths of inter-pairs prevail, which are consolidated as a reality of session and space, agreeing on the defeated parapsychological memory or future in the economy of two resignation blocks of the repealed Sacred Space, in consensus of the beams of the Vernarth Military Command forging from the beating sacralized ***** that cultly intensified from its mysterious nature and territorial domesticity to come from the attracted Agoras that were repositioning themselves with the metaphysical agents that they will be restored in the polis with the scope of furrowing in a civic action induced towards someone who virtually recognizes him in the purge of the exclaimed strangers. More ardent passion was added to receive them even being wary of further mutations vibrated with the Faskéloma, or exasperating that moves the tint of the occasional vibrations, similar to the tendencies of the Sacred Space of Gethsemane, with the disastrous passing of the aqueous levels of the Kêphisos, which it would mean the presumptive ordinal of unreal historical worlds. The parapsychology of space was absorbed with torched quadrilaterals that were hanging from the invoked meditation, they were lying on futile folders and anodyne Aerse molecules, which were still welcomed by the magical exposed extra-corporeal substances that were deduced as they were experiencing unprecedented transit preserved of the eccentric deconcentrated radio of the refurbished of the spectral chromatic. The precipitated mental field dared to invade boldly towards another unheard-of generator that dissipated between Aerse and Eurydice coming near the Coasts of Patmos, coming from hypothetical planes that flow for their definitive moderated unions. The static refluxes bounced in simultaneity of bilocation of the Eleusinian exordia that were exorbitating each other with the rollers that were uncrossing the corporeal margins that concelebrated the quantum crankshaft, and the fibrous distinction that was teleporting the rescue rituals unforeseen astrological

Lochnith says: “in the proximity of the mortuary reality there will be no hesitation outside of our body and geodesy of our lost zafral or of lives in transit sub or supra quantum, obsessing in the eyes of erudition and unknowns, while our contraption self-obstructs with our electromagnetic sensory interactions paraphrasing in the convoluted distance and residues of related-metaphysical electros that are reconverted into the appearance of a premonition” The ligation of the arteries of Cephisus carried the emanations of Lochnith to love him in a healing act suspended with beings devoid of physicality, on the way to specters and healings of a perverse, to repair his extra-corporeal suffering confined to those who condescend to the androecium and gynoecium as a unit of mental physical motor gender, at the instant of the exacerbated and ectoplasmic world regulated by means of the Vernarth regression that was going lowering your blood pressure, increasing your red blood cells side effect rivers intertwined with Eurydice and Aerse in the opening Othon, directed at Vernarth's outcomes that came in the bow of the super-aqueous ship with some fabrics from the ship's stowage directing the speculative and autonomous advance that was already dispersing in the waves. Dead cells of the right Lynothorax,  A savvy military mancomunal became syncretic with Lochnith, he was determined to continue reinstalling us in his white blood cells that rose when it was already dawn on the shores of independent Skalá, and in the circled cohorts of Phalanxes and Psiloi that accompanied him in minutes that seemed millennia, all succumbing to the physical dismay of the underlying necrosanct and telepathic prayer that took place at the dawn of parapsychology trances cysts of recovery that descended on them in pure novel regenerative membranes, persé of merciful acts that became thick in the flashes when freezing from the weightless rays of the ultraviolet, which was separating between Sóma and Gnómi or corporal opinion that was joining synthetic networks with indefinite emissaries and receptors, subsequent bodies of the Bachkoi chemist, already deficient for a compensatory universe and varieties that were taking shape in a disintegrated emotional quantum world. Each time the bodies were reinserting themselves into the full unknown and subjective material, the concrete material united in the network with each other as a single force was transforming into the greatest passion and sparkle among their own, reinstalling themselves in the Super Egos.

In the Latest Minute Dogmate according to the rictus mortis thesis, the globules would move like a big explosion interacting with everything, so starting everything from the beginning of nothing to the indivisible with optional digits of coincidence or inseparable digitized, such a phenomenon of meekness of aligning times were massified with the probability of finding them in the vestige of real anomalous presences that occurred millions of light years ago. Aerse replies: “My admiration, the sparkle has a measure of astral body in reason of the vigor that underlies reiterated expiation and measurable virtuosity in its perfection of semblance p and corporal providence, inquired of being transformed far from disaffection rather than a continuous healing . The smallest and most coherent in the fabulous Griffins will join my clairvoyant and component with the ballast of his final game, not reflective of another who can measure or predict him for an undivided being. But I am already here, and I am your infinite…, I no longer know of other bad illusions of trying to separate myself from this life of what Eleusis is, perhaps a cosmic coarse that is and was in all time that passes speculatively, for this flash that is reflects whether it pales visible or not, I hope it will be compact on our intertwined attachments”
As living organisms, various life methods will be postulated as an initiative in the announced Big Bang, for the profit of those who are real close and real logotypes of resonant neuroscience as a daring that will influence the progeny, for ****** volumes, exonerations of bearers experiences and evolutionary lives of the emitter outside of an ignored Parthenon, since the gender of the world is also associated with random ambiguities from anode to cathode, positive-negative towards a Hellenic parallelism of roots in life dressed with lasting vernacular inheritances. Much of Lochnith's electro-dermal conglomerate was in full congruence with retrograde Eleusian parapsychology propagating from Vernarth's Invisible Eclectic Portal, which was nebulously teleported down the Kêphisos River with saprophytic living organisms acknowledging it in indigenous originality. of the species of reborn Vernarth, and super regulation of the euphemism and mysterious underworld below their protocols.

Revelations of the mental-material, made reluctance and support of the estrangement of inviolate perceptions, precognitions, telepathies and premonition, which debuted in this intrepid adventure intuiting in perpetuity with the sensory corridors and interferences of a reality of body in an explosive world incontestable. Lochnith, was already in possession of a hypnotic mental reincarnation formula in the form of neuroscience vessels close to scarecrows of expiration, allocating the subsequent locks of an enlightened decency of the ethereal sleepy baggage and the oracular review. The more we experience the laws that explain his prodigies, the more our perspective of media and complete fiction will increase in something that begins to be typical of the laurel of a true slowed-down ******-kinetic process. Within the curvature and the dim light that remained in the Lochtian days, normality returned to them after this long epitome in the parapsychological biosphere, and the intriguing contemplation and even mischievous tenuity of idea that can die suddenly, after self-incubate in the intangible coexisting passage and medication rupture of lived art with alien morbid beings. For a character archetype, it is only known that reaping is consuming capital from the disruption of a non-profit loss and its incontrovertible paranormal, which is paranormal and parapsychological from the plane of posterity of life, which will be an act of peaceful coexistence in playful spirits, compensating for seclusion in the vaults of an involutionary dramatic past, if its material or monad (spiritual) is not dissected in the cosmic train of perception of unfolding, and of the concept of purging energy that goes out of its way in its seventh heaven. The hypnosis of death and purgation to whoever requires it in the convoy of their conscience continues to be a tiny unruly space that transports us physically, reverting to minimums that are neutralized in alien foundlings. From an aedicule depository to an empty body that is neither independent nor from the lord who claims it (V.g. aedicule of José de Arimatea). The impersonal voices that officiated at the ritual of Eleusis were heard far beyond those who could hear them merely with memorable spaced therapies, recording themselves in interspersed layers of sounds and imprecise electroacoustics in the serial of an alarming complex frequency of the regenerative stumble in an organism of Continuous movement. Everything spreads in bends of abstraction that revives those who promote the perfection of marigolds like buttercups that they wear in the clothing of the Canephores like Aerse, but soulful and latent ephemeral of the ethereal alchemical entitative of ignored molecules. Lochnith says: “My submission heals, it no longer maintains being far from who represents it and where it comes from, I know that its remains in me do not reason, clarifying more my journey towards the crown and vilifications of a nascent humanity that mourns me, and that does not recognizes by rebelling in my desires to attract him"
the sky closes in vermilion digression and you inquire that they should answer for the silence of confusion in the parapsychological aqueducts of Athens with Patmos. The organization of the Sacred Space starts with the bizarre totemic quantum by sacred paths, Megarons, fictitious hunting places, double surrounding lunar ring, curves of virtual walls, Propylaea to embrace the Vernarthian enigma and finally the Telesterion that received Vernarth with a naked torso that perched in front of Aerse and Lochnith, looking at them towards the futuristic survival with five digits in a quarter of the waning of his right hand containing the small coat of Betelgeuse and the Pleiades in inklings of the umpteenth apocalyptic Megaron of Patmos. Scrupulosity as an Electro-Eleusian placebo effect, went alone, dismissing itself in the singular of a Templar niche and towards a Megaró-Omega Telesterion for catechized who endowed themselves with super-resident halos and litters of priesthoods that fled in terror from the Aerse-Lochnith fusion, prior to each rudeness and their contours swearing eternal exaltation and idealism, to be reconverted into individuals saved and votive to love each other with third parties, escaping from small frames that still did not hold up from the ecumenical mess.
Lochnith Eleusis Quantum
KENNETH LEONG Nov 2018
How can we heal the wounded planet, you ask.
I have no big ideas to offer.
But I know we can help the Earth
by relearning how to take pleasure
in the smallest and the most ordinary things.
Why travel ten thousand miles
to find excitement in a place far away?
I take my vacation while staying home.
What joy is it to sit in a quiet cafe,
to sip coffee slowly
while I reminiscent, read or write.
What a luxury to find
a seat by the window
where the sun shines in.
It’s my photosynthesis--
to bask in sunshine and warmth,
in defiance of Winter’s cold.
To be alone in the midst of people.
To let silence be moderated
by a small background noise,
like birds chirping in a garden.
It’s a perfect place to fish for ideas,
to compose and create.
Who needs a plane ride
when one can create one's own island
by going deep into the
sanctuary of the mind?
The small pleasures of life.
They can save the world.
Now the need to rediscover himself rises over him, he leaves the Machiavellian stupor and the breath of his organism flavored with bile, alchemy, and pours it out until he expels his cancer-causing avital situation. Everything was already clear, Ludwig had a great refuge of himself, he was the superman who locks up all ages, who is senile and youthful; since it is surrounded by the aura of the perceptual smell of evil. That he renews knowledge and does not feel invariable, that he is a Cybernetic and divine Monarch. In contrast, the other is a mastiff that allows himself to docilize his instinct and follow the one who beats him, the one who mistreats him and shatters his will that accompanies the master who makes use of him, who uses him today, still and always. Now almost in his normal state, he decides to smell better and change his appearance, he coughs up his lobes by filling them with broth from Colibrí's twittering. He combs his damp hair and talks to himself by saying words like ...: Hello, how are you ... Who will you be today ...? Although his spirit is reluctant, he goes to the birthday of his friend Sara, a close friend of his, and lends to his benevolence. When he arrives, he repeats the protocol and cheers up his appearance, greets the ladies present, and hand in hand with the gentlemen, in Ludwig's intimacy an anti-desire pierces, the anguish of a weak pleasure that his expiring sap disturbs in the worldliness of him.

Distracted, he continues, walks with her eyes, and stops them in a brown hair, with radiant light he receives the sensual gesture, and the damsel takes her hair with her hand, pulling it towards her back. Ludwig, astonished and puzzled by her, made her look ******, he already imagined receiving from her a smile her, but knowing that he loved her, that her hair would let go of her and engender in him the impression of her as possessing the sculpture of her. He approaches her with a firm temper a little more, glancing at her casually. She, very contemplative, manages to find the vigor of her strength by getting close enough, he very thoughtful, pending her every step it would be easy for him to glimpse the future, to find his equivalence to his unpredictable existence, who for the moment would desire glory and majesty and not fugitive decadence, like something suicidal that instead of satisfying him, kills him.

When he was preparing to meet her, he did not hesitate and the last steps to her were the most solid, wherever he was with his idea of having her, he hung in his stomach the sharp desire to put out his eyes with a fork and thus proceed at a slow pace in his masochism in frisking his agonizing death. There came the other gesture where he would drop his arm and brush it with hers, with a stealthy touch he could see a certain excitement between his teeth, and the saliva was escaping from his mouth when he looked at himself in a mirror, also seeing how it trickled down his makeup chin impatience. He never believed that such a phenomenon would happen to him, so it was where Sara, who was tasting a delicious menu, was going to tell him that she was leaving her and that later he would call her. As he left and went through the front garden, he felt the birthday song being sung to the piano and at the same time he saw someone outside with an immutable expression --- And Ludwig told himself that the strange-looking one was an Augur del Budú, that It weighed on her stoic peace of being normal, which was just her high-profile imagination. Then he walks through the Prehistoric Park, crosses a low-level tunnel that endangers his balance when he barely sees his hands, but he manages to advance without paralyzing his limbs and reaches the main street where he sees a dog run over, takes it, and says to himself. ..: "I will take it to the food chain of my Green City, where the pure bacteria will gnaw its tissues ..." With great strength and noble spirit, he entered his Floral Forest, where he points the Cypress to the Sea, thus releasing it and sheltering it with his Deist energy, which is more than medullary and unbeatable. He withdraws and cannot help turning and looking at him, as if said Energy wanted him to resurrect the dog. Believing in his conscience, he asks permission to rest, he lies lightly on the humus; where photosynthesized leaves inoculate the percentage dreams of vegetables, trees and flowers. What the archer in his bolt threw, his chest oppressed unbreathable pneumonia, driving him to sleep for twenty-four hours. When he wakes up, still lying on his humus bed, he wants to lighten his heavy load by eating well, and drinking himself into alcohol. He did not know how to proceed, whether to beg or rob the wealthy of his leftovers, or humble himself with God and disavow him from throwing misfortunes, carelessness, cataclysms, the self-criticism of being imperfect, and whether he has to bleed or He has to defecate, provoke personal disgust, and may this lead him to lust, baseness, sin.

The more he brooded, the more weightless he became, and the murderous scavengers lurked around his will. Like a narcotic effect, it loses its cognitive capacity and reverses itself swirling through the funnel of reverie, where the sub-world circulates and where repressions, oppositions, and powerlessness collide. At the initial place where he hallucinates and sees himself entirely, he leaves the vigil and goes into the subconscious ...: He sees Debra in her moderated state where she was leaving that space --- Ludwig looks at her and so does she, but nothing is said to each other, only he says to himself "I prefer to love her to my distant ideal and not body versus body, just as the thought of her makes of her a kind, sweet and current portrait ..."

When he begins to walk renewed, he sees several Debra in reproductive phases, they worked ardently in his subconsciousness. Some kissed him, others beat him, others confused him and others hurt him. In favor of his life and for his salvation, the virtuous side would mercifully go to dismay him and open the floodgate of reality, to desolder his eyelids and flowing air go with its dreamlike substances. Already fully awake, he sees through the window of the branches how the clouds moved and how everything moved, the bushes with their branches and their flowers. When seeing with alienated simplicity and electrifying the sky, the radiant light beams touch the vibrant colors, which touch his heart like a disquieting shout, although at the most acute in his decay it will be like the noise that broke his eardrum, or like the chard that her stomach upset. He gets up and straightens up, by the time he's standing, he takes a paper and writes ...: "How relieved I am to dabble in sleep ..., now that I make the inscription tangible ..."

When he left his home, he was accompanied by a splendid sun, the birds fluttered with indescribable happiness, the prevailing clarity and cleanliness of the environment was already perceived, seeing that everything was hubbub, he continued to be a victim of his endogenous suffering. But the children's laugh made him laugh, dissipating his sorrow. Passing through the Prehistory Park, where he always believed that trees were Dinosaurs; he remembered the jerks of his father when he took him to school. He concludes that there is no place on earth that is not ancient, and here in this park you can smell the sacrifice of the primitive to survive. In the same way, the Mammoth in instincts was the same as **** Sapiens, only that it took its spear against the animal because it evolved faster, without knowing why ...?, Perhaps to see this inhabitant moistened in the Jordan, very close to Jesus Christ. The world revolves around the man in need, who invents what is necessary, in this case fighting his hunger. In this way he kills the Mammoth, cutting it into pieces to then eat it, and whoever takes the food from it, simply dies in the struggle to survive before his ambitions.

When he got out of his mind, he set out on the path to follow, and when he crossed the Fountain of Geysers and Hot Springs; he saw at the top of the Waters of Delphi, that woman with chestnut hair; Sara's birthday. She was alone and with her eyes without detaching them from the vapor, from the liquid element, so excited Ludwig approaches her almost calm, with a racing heart that he could hide when talking to her --- Well he said to himself ..., now I'll talk to you ... - Excuse me, You. I saw you on Sara's birthday, I saw you surrounded by many people. Look, I would allow myself to be by your side, I promise not to get in the way --- Thus, the soliloquy continued, with great shock I watched her and seeing how delighted she was, I could even kiss her, achieving it with ease, because it was daytime, perhaps where it was. found in the nomenclature matter.

After a while, when she was thinking of quickly moving away from the place, from the Source that inspired her enchantment, she spoke to him and said ...: “We women are not very fixed when the man casts his insatiable gaze, but we do the vanity of feeling admired. That's why I remember you at that party, I even got really worried when the saliva ran down your chin, I thought you were going to faint. As you can see, if I remember you.--- He did not take long to ask her name, and he told her that her name was Antonieta. Ludwig thought how beautiful her name was --- she has the name I like the most, and she illuminated with adulation cleared her eyes making them greener and more feminine in her manners. He knew that he would be calmer if he met her again, asking her to be so. She affirmed his request, but it would be in a few more weeks; because she had to fulfill a contract with the Ballet Company. Since she was an actress and a dancer, this was going to take place in the city of San Lorenzo. Thus it is that the ballad mishap was fulfilled, in the thick of the Park, one and the other had the magic of enchantment; her with her eyes of her green sea of the rocky shore, of the green algae and the salty green fish with the immeasurable shine in her eyes eager to dance and interpret the steam dance of that deep-rooted Thermal Spring.

Even when she wanted to start saying goodbye to her, he was imbued with her beauty, like the wind of pure air that lifts her hair with pacifism and open disposition, with the peace of a face that looks at the ****** world and at first instance positive and very beautiful. Well, Antoinette said ... I have to go. I would have liked to be here more, but I have to continue rehearsing the Work. She telling Ludwig ...: I want to let you know that we are slaves to fulfillment and we all seek to communicate, that's why like you I will also go. Together they left without saying anything and when they reached the exit they said goodbye with an injective kiss of love, with sweetness and psychology. The latter, she leaves the place until lost in the hazy gray of the day. When Ludwig wanted to talk to himself about what had happened, the preliminary virus entered her brain, so that he could not remember her clothes, only her hair from the Thermal Abbey with her spells that he introduced stiff and sharp the benefit by clouding his unreason produced by the virus of unreason. He believed he was Troilo and she Créssida, raising his suggestive and despotic view of her, whose order tells him to walk away ... Perhaps where ...? Maybe to drag the golden threads of her dress destined for her debut. By introducing his instinct to a simple will, he remembers Sara and puts forces in her footsteps to shorten her arrival. As he passed through the jasmine trees, he approached his house in a tiny way, up to the Eucalyptus massif that always welcomed him, expelling the unmistakable and pleasant aroma of his house. Before it struck, Sara said ... come in, and he came in but didn't see her, and he started looking for her around the dining room and the living room, until she came out of somewhere fast and well dressed with the scent of a great woman, with the better scents that surrounded her satin dress with attraction and grace. She tells him that she is going to the Aula Magna to see a group of Medieval Music. He tells her that if he left so after her, arguing that he came to see her and tell her how beautiful he found her friendship with her and how good it feels to be I live here, She tells him not to worry when she smiles at him, and he agreed to her words telling him how happy he was after the sun that rose magnifying everything, even she felt willing to improvise their good moods.

He answers her by making her words difficult as if intensifying her anemic and soft ductility in her breathless lungs. She rebukes him by saying that her illness should be treated more regularly. And he answered her only by shaking her head moderately, telling her that when he was not with someone like her, he believed he felt that the weight of the calculations of the geophysical world and the floating voices did not leave her hope in the peace in peace. her brain. Sara takes Ludwig's hands, giving him her comfort. My poor friend Ludwig, Alma Matter, you have now awakened the affection that I have never felt before for someone I hold dear and feel good today. She gets up and serves him a Vermouth, to go to the exhibition. In the fourth sip he wanted to fall into the hands of a certain audacity, he could not avoid falling into the ******* of the vision of paintings and sculptures, he wanted to stop and go to the garden to philosophize, perhaps with a butterfly such as the peaceful and healthy essence, full of transparency and stillness. She in this way she stretched her nose towards the ****** leaves, filling them with pure color, with pure airy candor. Sara, looking at him through the glass door, understood his state and wanted to caress his head and face. She immediately called him Ludwig ... come on, it's about time ...! He waited for him to close the door, before cutting off his overexcitement, until Sara quickly arrived and they went to the car. Upon arriving at the Aula Magna, both were in an excellent state of predisposition. They went in and up, sitting in the box. They instantly cheered up and Ludwig, shocked, was getting ready to tell him of his well-being, but the lights just faded to initiate the presentation. They begin by instrumentalizing the works of the 15th century in Spain and France, to later continue with choral music from the  Gregorian´s chants  Solesmes.

In the intermission, they commented on the lightness of the performers with their instruments and the fiery auditors acclaiming the variations and colors of the voices. His gestures also said how perplexed some attendees were by the perfection of his mastery. As they continue, pairs are introduced performing music for Bach's Harpsichord, and ending with pieces by Vivaldi, El pastor Fido and others by Telemann for Guitar. In the final moment, Ludwig remembered his youth and among them the metallic sound of the instruments that his father carried to compose in his house, assimilating the inexhaustible sounds of those volumes in his sensations. And so the aerial images escaped beyond music and love, from that inexhaustible resistance of his body, from his doubtful states which destroyed the apogee of his evolution. Those great awakenings of little serenity like the great clamor of union that he saw in his parents that later he did not seem like that, but belligerent on all sides, and how hatred broke out and disordered in his person increasing in swearing mouths altered in not measuring his words. Very close together on the step, they said goodbye to the Auditorium, and with a melodic sound, Sara appears singing, Ludwig not understanding that mixture that she sang in her French hymn. He seemed very bohemian and spoke of the pioneers of the Juggler Song. With telepathy he carried the fulfillment of his wish for a magical state, which had no input or output, only it corresponded to extracting an abstract thought from what was divinely related to music. Outside of Ludwig, Sara sang with satisfaction the appropriate atmosphere appropriate to her, but not so with his who was about to spill an ocean of liquids from eyes and ears, in which would come the remnants of quiet time, of the conflict of the others, maybe Debra with a handicapped part endocrinately composed with the flow of mineral and organic acids. In order to open the necessary contact of a soon to relieve, to suspend the claustrophobic tormenting existing, derived from the seizing and painful gesture of her unbearable wanting to heal and not getting it.

Ludwig said intimately ...: Uz ..., Uzzz ..., What a burning sensation I feel, it will pass ...! When the fatigue was overcome, the derutinization begins, to receive the delight, the music of the plumber ingredient of early life. That if it is spontaneous, it is capable of generating great proportions of delight and externalizing the result of the bodies in agitation that still emanated from its rhythmic musical cortex. They said goodbye to the Aula Magna "Bernardo Courtois", leaving a memorable satisfaction in his already enlarged spirit.
Weirdly Emigrate Chapter IV
Michael Perry May 2021
FLOATING ON WATER

i have headaches
i deal with them
been to the doctors
each one, checking my head for clues
no one seems to know
the root cause, whatever it is?
on this particular day
it was going to be hot
no air to speak of
the oppressive sticky kind of day
that turns sweat sour
ready to cling to everything it touches
it is the first day of summer
just right to go into the pool
i lowered myself in
the water was biting cold
i was able to tolerate it
until the water moderated
as i slipped all the way in
felt the water gently caress me
comforting and inviting, i stretched out my full length
floating on my back, eyes closed, buoyant, comforted
for the first time in my life the headaches were gone
within minutes i had total relief
i couldn't believe it, i began to cry
still floating, afraid to move, i stayed in
until the sun was going down
as i celebrated my freedom
from the grips of a pain,  that i never thought
i would escape from- here i was, in the pool
pain free- for how long would be anyone's guess
i never want to leave, but at some point i had to face
the fact that this was temporary
there would be other days, the fight far from over

by Michael Perry
Sophia Granada Apr 2021
1.
He said
You’re so thematically inconsistent
What are you? A ghost? A vampire?
I said I am a more old fashioned thing
Before monsters had to be **** and well contained for the screen
A specter- solid when it wants to be
And blurry when it does not
Think of me as the mistreated children
And the wreckage in your wake
Think of me, and my hands will grow substantial around your neck.

2.
I don’t self-diagnose.
Don’t trust myself to know myself,
I take personality quizzes with
A moderated panel of objective observers.
What mythological creature am I?
“A fairy.
Step light, speak quiet, hard to get in touch with.
If you weren’t right in front of me
I might think you weren’t real.”
A fairy.
A sweet thought, pleasing to the ego.
Who doesn’t want the graceful bearing?
The mischievous face peeking out from holly bushes?
Who wouldn’t want to feel ladylike and airy?
I don’t self-diagnose.
If I did, I’d never end up with something so pretty.
A ghost, I would say.
Long-dead and fading every second.
My tangled hair and pale face,
My cold bare feet padding silently over the hardwood floor,
My too-big clothes swaying in some invisible wind.
Step light, speak quiet, hard to get in touch with.
Better organize a seance before the veil draws closed.
Subhrangsu Mar 2018
Walking down the shady starlit alleys,
Dreary and grimy with the dust of dead stars,
Followed by my own vast void trail
I am a cosmic traveler.

Sometimes walking through stellar graveyards,
And at the same time - nurseries;
I see the multitudes of those imperial fiery orbs.

I see the small dim spheres,
Spheres of humility, not desiring glory,
And yet the observers of eternity.

I see the ones of moderated existence,
Their years of being outshone by others;
Till finally they tear themselves apart,
A tribute to violent glory.


Finally, the gigantic scorners - Bloated Pride;
Scorching their insides, only in the search of glory.
Only to crush their own selves in vanity
Horrible abortions - distorters of space and time.

And then I see a small blue speck,
The House Of Representatives,
Themselves the contents of all that is Universe
Yet training telescopes far from each other.

I smile at these far-fetched eyes of their race
And then walk on...
glass May 13
i came across a tutorial on propagating roses
my windowsill is full of propagated succulents
but i had never realized it applied here too

you once mentioned your dad was proud of his garden

on your twentieth birthday, i brought a bouquet for your parents
your mom asked me what type of roses they were
she rather liked how they smelled

we had a stack of empty yogurt pots on the counter
so i snipped a rose hip, planted and honey dipped
i wasnt sure if that family party was a recurring event
but i was deeply lost to your breath
absorbed in delicately moderated intent

we came to pick you up for your twenty first birthday
your mom asked us what kind of jello we would like in our shots
but you still had yet to invite us

the weekend-of i asked if your dad liked to garden
i asked if your parents would like a yogurt-potted rose
i asked if you would like a sapling
he was hesitant to accept, leaning towards no
its already a lot to keep up with what there is
though it was never specified which
and i think im falling out of love

but i wonder if i will ever tell you about the part
of how long that rose was on my patio, and through winter, inside
how from the very start
it was for them for you for this the future
it is hard to go, but i think i have become the executed suitor
as it would seem i am incapable of compromise

and i wonder if i will ever tell you about my heart
of how lately ive been thinking
that i do not really hope i will survive
sinking into tears alive
til love do us part
051124

— The End —