Vis medicatric naturae
The healing of the mother
She knows the best medicine
From the dirt she heals

We don’t understand her healing techniques
But vis medicatrix naturae is impossible to beat

We might not think she’s right
When she takes away our loved
But what is giveth
Is taketh away

Vix medicatric naturae
The healing of nature
Mother knows best
Let her find the cure

I am in a deep dark hole--
An asylum of my mind.
It's better to be locked in a room
Where no damage can be done,
Where everyone treats me as who they perceive me to be--
A ****** lunatic.
I know this isn't my rightful place,
I know I sound so childish and
Narcissistic
To say these things,
But if there is no escape from your pain,
What a better place to reside?

I scream and scream for hours
In this nightmarish dream,
Without the knowledge of the darkest secrets
Hiding in the mist of all this black.

All the while the prince tries to rescue me.

I guess it's unclear if I
Let myself be trapped or if
You have trapped me in my own
Sick state of existence.

I long for the prince's arms to be around me.

Dear, I haven't told you
the many times I've wished
to capture the stars above

to have something in my hands
that twinkle more than your eyes do

For I was blinded,
and I wanted to forget.

To forget how you lit up every
piece inside of me
and left with an agonizing
heat that started a fire in my lungs

I tried to breathe you out
but your entirety has consumed
whatever monsters I had.

Now, you’ve replaced all of them – the monsters.

From the usual desires within a store
From the potato chips that don't call for you but still eat
From the shredded cheese that only seems delectable at
2:00 am

There is nothing in this world we wouldn't crave
For we are the ones who have slept through sleepless nights
For we that have been addicted to the nectar that is known as
coffee
And For we that has been blessed with
Lusus Naturae

But remember, That even if we were blessed.
The ill will wish for us
And we shall respond
as it is not our duty to do so

Instead, it is just the cravings that bond our blessings
and that we are one in the twilight

MEPHISTOPHELES. Make good use of your time! It hurries past,
But order and method make time last,
So, friend, take my advice to heart:
Hear lectures on logic for a start.
Logic will train your mind all right;
Like inquisitor's boots it will squeeze you tight,,
Your thoughts will learn to creep and crawl
And never lose their way at all,
Not get criss-crossed as now, or go
Will-o'-the-wisping to and fro!
We'll teach you that your process of thinking
Instead of being like eating and drinking,
Spontaneous, instantaneous, free,
Must proceed by one and two and three.
Our thought-machine, as I assume,
Is in fact like a master-weavers loom:
One ****** of his foot, and a thousand threads
Invisibly shift, and hither and thither
The shuttles dart - just one he treads
And a thousand strands all twine together.
In comes your philosopher and proves
It must happen by distinct logical moves:
The first is this, the second is that,
And the third and fourth then follow pat;
If you leave out one or leave out two,
Then neither three nor four can be true.
The students applaud, they all say 'just so!'-
But how to weavers they still don't know.
When scholars study a thing, they strive
To **** it first, if it's alive;
Then they have the parts and they've lost the whole,
For the link that's missing was the living soul.
Encheiresis naturae, says Chemistry now -
Moccking itself without knowing how.

collapse the husk of sin with the
lucid dirt caked better and more.
all about your cascade. and bleached
serenity stiffly decaying. a grave calm
in the ******* of untold lovers. to be
cadaverous an apathetic magic.
seems it to me the sky was blue but
cracked melody of ruffled gray
hips sprawled exactly on its
electric lips to tickle precisely the accurate
giggle of rainbow fuzz.  hush now delicious
day and break staggeringly on the luscious nightmare.
   A lusus naturae  said "why not dip the razors in your

                        purity to slit the rhythmic shudders
of your
                   vermilion  music. but anon hither it doth
come and merry it will slander with the clouds?"

  slither correctly it wAS  in the ponds of streelight ******.

      begging white palpations to the weak skin.

            but flustered in wickedly; in her still column
of hot ice. i loved only her.

From the Genius Loci, Vernarth fell for an apocryphal anticipated death; there were rumors of the Seventh Heaven of having found him extinct in some ruins where they were excavating for the expression of the locus of the Megaron, in the space of the holistic visualization field, to relocate the Áullos Kósmos IV, as an interaction of the Invisible Eclectic Portal, doing it for the patron of the parallel world, and of his apocryphal death. The naturalness of his parallel residence led him through this canon and sketch, clearly with an archetypal character of symbols that meant more than his own image, with parapsychology and Genius psychics who considered a being of high dignity deified with the Gidon or Gideon; as a catastrophic exterminator of his being in both dimensions that separated him from a predicted death, which he had already experienced at the site of Arbela.

Vernarth, after finding the ruins that had succumbed to his own Genius Loci, unleashed his religious soul for souls in the atonement that sheltered the construction plunged into ruin under the Megaron, conforming worlds of sensibilities with risky existentialisms in the glossary of two-dimensional man, which is transfigured into being of the Eclectic Portal and the Genius Loci, seconded by the pyramidal conifers that alluded to the Romanesque bilocated appearance of terminologies after the sacred war of Amphibians. Making of this nature the two-dimensionality of Vernarth, a naturae that embraced him in the Greek landscape, spicing up all the topographic characteristics, towards a territory that surrounded him with a God who threw him into the hierophany of the being that self-erected him as his own host, so that it is definitely related to its natural environment, this being the Goddess and numen of the same in her temple as a sacred declaration, in a room that was always next to the sanctuary immersed in her templar necropolis list. Thus he refounds and strengthens his ties with Saint John the Apostle, who from the genesis of his encounter with him spoke of the portal that would lead him to the limit of the sacred, but contiguous to the profane of Temenos, for the dimensionality of worldly proselytism that will help him with the surrounding voices when called! seconded by Wonthelimar de Chauvet and Kaitelka, when he gets tired of this voluminous Áullos Kósmos, and parade with the Souls of Trouvere, Helleniká, Armas Christi and Messolonghi, together with the Ghosts of Shiraz passing through the propyla of the Megaron, making him pass the triple porticoes with their bilocated parapsychological lives, and by the global cendal of the In Antis, with two columns in the first portico where the vigil of their Sibyls and Eurydice will reside, pointing out the treasure of herbs and magic mushrooms that they keep in the Stoa that walled Borker and Leiak with their Xifos crusades. The frontispiece flew with the Gerakis from the peribolus that lay afflicted by the amber and violet essences of the rites in transit, making polyverbality in the protocols that led to the transcendentality of his apocryphal death. Vernarth lived the apocryphal death of him intensely mounted on his Alikantus steed, and without a semi-tight mount, to point out the essences of his acropolis that conditioned him to the temenos, more than a profane skinned to a sacred rite of passage in the Genius Loci.

Hygieia
Oasis
Legendary
Liberty
Yeoman
Willingness
Ohana
Oneness
De novo

Vis medicatrix naturae

© 2023 Carol Natasha Diviney