So you know you’re looking at two very different styles of dress, here. But precisely what decades? When did that waistline move back down? What details are the defining touches of their era? How long were women actually walking around with bustles on their backsides?

Lydia Edwards’s How to Read a Dress is a detailed, practical, and totally beautiful guide to the history of this particular form of clothing from the 16th to the 20th centuries. It tracks the small changes that pile up over time, gradually ******* until your great-grandmother’s closet looks wildly different than your own. As always, fashion makes for a compelling angle on history—paging through you can see the shifting fortunes of women in the Western world as reflected in the way they got dressed every morning.

Of course, it’ll also ensure that the next lackadaisically costumed period piece you watch gives you agita, but all knowledge has a price.

I spoke to Edwards about how exactly we go about resurrecting the history of an item that’s was typically worn until it fell apart and then recycled for scraps; our conversation has been lightly trimmed and edited for clarity.

The title of the book is How to Read a Dress. What do you mean by “reading” a dress?

Basically what I mean is, when you are looking at a dress in an exhibition or a TV show, reading it in terms of working out where the inspirations or where certain design choices come from. Being able to look at it and recognize key elements. Being able to look at the bodice and say, Oh, the shape of that is 1850s, and the design relates to this part of history, and the patterning comes from here. It’s looking at the dress as an object from the top down and being able to recognize different elements—different historical elements, different design elements, different artistic elements. “Read” is probably the best word to use for that kind of approach, if that makes sense.

It must send you around the bend a little bit, watching costume adaptations where they’re a bit slapdash. The one I think of is the Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice, which I actually really enjoy, but I know that one’s supposed to have all over the place costuming-wise.

Yeah, it does. I mean, I love the BBC Pride and Prejudice one, because they kept very specifically to a particular era. But I can see what they did with the Keira Knightley one—they were trying to keep it 1790s, when the book was written, as opposed to when it was published. But they’ve got a lot of kind of modern influences in there and they’ve got a lot of influences from 30, 40 years previously, which is interesting to an audience and gives an audience I suppose more frames of reference, more areas to think about and look at. So I can see why they did that. But it does make it more difficult if you’re trying to accurately decode a garment. It’s harder when you’ve got lots of different eras going on there, but it makes it beautiful and interesting for an audience.

The guide spans the 16th to the 20th century. Why start with the 16th century?

Well, partly because it’s where my own interest starts, in terms of my research and the areas I’ve looked at. But more importantly in terms of audience interest, we get a lot of TV shows, a lot of films in recent years—things like The Tudors—that type of era seems to be something that people are interested in. That time is very colorful and very interesting to people.

And also because in terms of thinking about the dress as garment, obviously people wore dresses in medieval times, but in terms of it being something that specifically women wore, distinct from men’s clothes, I really think we start to see that more in the 15th, 16th century onwards.

Where do you go to get the historical information to put together a book like this? What do you use as your source material? Because obviously the thing about clothing is that it has to stand up to a lot of wear and tear and a lot of it doesn’t survive.

This is the other thing about the 16th century stuff—there’s so little surviving. That’s why that chapter was a lot shorter and also that’s why I used a lot of artworks rather than surviving garments, just because they don’t exist in their entirety.

But wherever possible, you go to the garments themselves in museum collections. And then if that’s proving to be difficult, you go to artworks or images, but always bearing in mind the artist will have had their own agenda, so they won’t necessarily be accurate of what people were actually wearing. So then you have to go and look up written source material from the time—say, diaries. I like using letters that people have written to each other over the centuries, describing dress and what they were wearing on a daily basis. Novels can be good, as well.

Also the scholarship that has come before, the secondary sources, works by people like Janet Arnold, Aileen Ribeiro. Really well researched scholarly books where people have used primary sources themselves and put their own interpretation on it can be really, really helpful. Although you take some of it with a pinch of salt, and you put your own interpretation on there, as well.

But always to the dress itself wherever possible.

What are some of the challenges you face, or the constraints on our ability to learn about the history of fashion?

Well, the very practical issue of trying to see garments—some of them I did see here in Australia, but a lot of them were in the States, in Canada, in New Zealand, so it’s hard to physically get there to see them. And often, even when you can get to the museum, garments are out on loan to other exhibitions or other museums. That’s a practical consideration.

But also, especially when I’m talking about using artworks and things, which can be really helpful when you’re researching, but as I’ve said they do come from a place where there’s more interpretations and more agendas. So if someone’s done a portrait and there’s a beautiful 1880s dress in it, that could have been down to the whims of the person who was wearing it, or the artist could have changed significantly the color or style to suit his own taste. Then you have to do extra research on top of that, to make sure that what you are seeing is representative.

It’s a fascinating area. There’s a lot of challenges, but for me, that’s what makes it really exciting as well. But it’s really that question of being able to trust sources and knowing what to use and what not to use in order to make things clear for the audience.

Obviously many of these dresses were very expensive and took a lot of labor and it wasn’t fast fashion—people didn’t just give it away or toss it when it fell out of season. A lot of times, you did was you remade it. When you’re looking at a dress that’s been remade, how do you extract the information that you need as a historian out of it?

I love it when something like that comes up. I’ve got a couple of examples in the book.

Well, it can be quite challenging, because often when you’re first looking at a piece it’s not obvious that it’s been remade. But if you’re lucky enough to look inside it and actually hold it and turn it round different angles, there’ll be things like the placement of a seam, or you’ll see that the waist has been moved up or down according to the fashion. And that’s often obvious when you’re looking inside. You can see the way the skirt’s been attached. Often you can tell if a skirt’s been taken off and then reattached using different pleats, different gatherings; that can give you a hint that it’s then been remade to fit in with a different fashionable ideal.

One of the key ways is fabric. You can often see, especially in early 19th century dresses when they’ve been made of these beautiful 18th century silks and brocades. That’s nice because it’s the first obvious clue that something’s been remade or that an old dress has been completely taken apart and it’s just the fabric that’s been used. I find it particularly interesting when the waist has been moved or the seams have been taken off or re-sewn in a different shape or something like that. It can be subtle but once your knowledge base grows, that’s one of the most fascinating areas that you can look at.

You page through the book and you watch these trends unfold and there are occasional sea changes will happen fairly quickly, like when the Regency style arises. But how much change year-to-year would a woman have seen? How long would it take, just as a woman getting dressed in the morning, to see styles just radically alter? Would you even notice?

Well, this is the thing—I think it’s very easy, when we’re looking back, to imagine that in 1810 you’d be wearing this dress and then all the frills and the frouf would have started to come in the late 1810s and the 1820s, and suddenly you would have had a whole new wardrobe. But obviously, unless you were the very wealthiest women and you had access to dressmakers who had the absolute newest patterns and newest fabrics then no, you wouldn’t have seen a massive change. You wouldn’t have afforded to be able to have the newest things as they came in. You would have maybe remade dresses to make them maybe slightly more in line with a fashion plate that you might have seen, but you wouldn’t have had access to new information and new fashion plates as soon as they came. To be realistic, there would have been very little change on a day to day level.

But I think also, for us now—it’s hard to see it without hindsight, but we feel like we’re fairly fluid in wearing the same kind of styles, but obviously when we look back in 20 years, we’ll look at pictures of us and see greater changes than we’re now aware. Because it happens on a slow pace and it happens on such a subconscious level in some ways.

But actually, yeah, it’s to do with economics, it’s to do with availability. People living in towns where they couldn’t easily get to cities—if you were living in a country town a hundred miles away from London, there’s no way that you would have the resources to see the most recent fashion plates, the most recent ideas that were developing in high society. So it was a very slow process in reality.

If you have a lot of money you can change out your wardrobe quicker and wear the latest styles. And so the wealthiest people, their clothes were what in a lot of case stood the best chance of surviving and being in modern collections. So how do we know what working women would have worn or what middle class women would have worn?

Yeah, this is hard. I do have some more middle class examples, because we’re lucky in that we do have quite a few that have survived, especially in smaller museums and historical collections, where people have had clothes sitting in their attics for years and have donated them, just from normal families over the years.

But, working women, that’s much more difficult. We’re lucky from the 19th century because we have photographic evidence. But really a lot of it will come down to written descriptions, mainly letters, diaries, not necessarily that the people themselves would have kept, but there’s examples of people that worked in cotton mills, for instance, and people that ran the mills and their families and wives and friends who had written accounts of what the women there were wearing. Also newspaper accounts, particularly of people who would go and do charity work and help the poor. They often wrote quite detailed descriptions of the people that they were helping.

But in terms of actual garments, yeah, it’s very difficult. Certainly 18th century and before, it’s really, really hard to get hold of anything that gives you a really good idea of what they wore. But in the 18th century—it’s quite interesting, because then we get examples of separate pieces of clothing worn by the upper classes, like a skirt with a jacket, which was actually a lower middle class style initially and then it became appropriated by the upper classes. And then it became much fancier and trimmed and made in silks and things. So then, we can see the inspiration of the working classes on the upper classes. That’s another way of looking at it, although of course that’s much more problematic.

It’s interesting how in several cases you can see broader historical context, or other stories happening through clothes. Like you point out that the rise of the one-piece dresses is due to the rise of mantua makers, who were women who were less formally trained who were suddenly making clothing. Are there any other interesting stories like that, that you noticed and thought were really fascinating?

There’s a dress in the book that a woman made for her wedding. I think she was living on her own, or she was living with a servant and her mother or something. She made the dress and then turned up to her wedding and traveled quite a long way to get there, and when she arrived, the groom and all the guests weren’t there. There was nobody. So she went away and came back again a week later, and everyone was there. And the reason that no one was there before was that a river had flooded in the direction that they were all coming from. She had obviously no way of finding out about this until after the fact, and we have this beautiful dress that she spent ages making and had obviously gone to a lot of effort to try and work out what the latest styles were, to incorporate it into her wedding dress.

Things like that, I find really interesting, because they talk so much about human and social history as well as fashion history, and the garment is the main way we have of keeping these stories alive and remembering them and looking into the kind of life and world these people lived, who made these garments.

Over the centuries, how does technology affect fashion? Obviously, we think of the industrial revolution as really speeding up the pace of fashion. But are there other moments in the history of fashion where technology shapes what women end up wearing?

One example is where I talk about the Balenciaga dress from the early 1950s—with a bubble hem and a hat and she would have worn these beautiful pump shoes with it—with the introduction of the zipper. Which just made such a huge difference, because it suddenly meant you’d have ease and speed of dressing. It meant that you didn’t have to worry about more complicated ways of fastening a garment. I think the zipper made a massive change and also in terms of dressmaking at home, it was a really quick and simple way that people had of being able to create quite fashionable styles on a budget and with ease and speed at home.

Also, of course, once women’s dress started to become simpler and they did away with the corset and underwear became a lot less complicated, that made dressing a lot easier, that made the introduction of the bias cut and things that sit very closely to the natural body much more widely used and much more fashionable.

I would say the introduction of machine-made lace as well, particularly from the late 19th, early 20th century onwards where it was so fashionable on summer dresses and wedding dresses. It just meant that you could so much more easily add this decadent touch to a garment, because lace would have been so much more expensive before then and so time-consuming to make. I think that made a huge difference in ordinary women being able to attain a kind of luxury in their everyday dress.

That actually makes me think of something else I wanted to ask you, which is you point out in your intro the way we casually use this word “vintage.” I think about that with lace. Lace is described as being a “vintage” touch but it’s very much this question of when, where, who, why—it’s a funny term when you think about it, the way we use it so casually to describe so much.

Oh, yes. It’s crazy. I used to work in a wedding dress shop and I used to make historically inspired wedding dresses and things. And brides used to come in and say, “Oh, I want something vintage.” But they didn’t really know what they meant. Usually what they meant is they wanted something with a bit of lace on it, or with some sort of pearls or beading. I think it’s really inspired by whatever is trending at the time. So, you know, Downton Abbey became vintage. I think ‘50s has always been kind of synonymous with the word vintage. But what it means is huge,

i always find myself
laying my heart out to
the people who love stomping
on my heart for the pure fun of
watching blood pour out

but it wasn't always this way
it all started when my dad started
promising me security to constantly
watch him walk out the door
but every time that promise was
proposed, I always accepted it
even when I knew it was a **** lie
hopeful little me, how adorable

manipulation, that's what it is
finding reasons to get rid of me
i guess i do that too
but when it's consistently happening
to you with every new friendship
or relationship?
you find clarity and warmth
in the words
"i won't be leaving anytime soon"
and it becomes a twisted cycle
of just
constant
manipulation
the manipulated becomes the manipulator

when your newest begins the manipulation
tactic that you were taught at the age
of 5 when your dad said
"I'll be right back" and doesn't for days
that's when you're all ears to your newest victim who says
"it's so nice to find someone like you"
i wish you didn't say that
ever

The robotic surgeon didn't blink
Smoke, swear, or fool around;
He was the newest design of science
His metal feet firmly on the ground.

Robotic surgery was the latest
Improvement over the manual kind
There were no variations in technique;
No reliance on flaky mind.

He was diligent and precise
Cutting flesh to invisible templates;
He never erred and he never missed
Never once paused, to vacillate.

Trusted beyond the regular surgeon,
Using his fragile, shaking hands;
The robotic surgeon could do anything
Because he wasn't just a man.

The newest miracle of science was hailed
As the end, to the older style;
But one day the program blew a fuse-
And he cut her head off, by a mile.

Keep rolling, like sailing, rowing the science voyage.
Discovering a new discovery, then much happens:
a new crescent, new moon on a new turn is found,
yet a night to be invented eclipses it furthermore.

Will the voyage float at the newest dark energy frontier?
Will it now pierce verily the ******-skinned heaven’s last barrier
that divides the seen and unseen, holds the uncharted water?
Will it by design decode or recite the word, the language
the lock is coded in, the very command written on the stone?
Till then it won’t move, nor does one see the skin black or white,
and till then one won’t stop the sun lighting up the night!

Kafersuseh One-Dimensional Beams II; In this environment of preservation of links and communication with each other, Raeder, Petrobus the Pelican and Alikanto were in a state of maximum stillness and complacency, they were enjoying the reality that was experienced with the child. Raeder unexpectedly leads Petrobus out of the barn and begins an exploration of the rolling nativity event. Here he takes hold of the gold-jade rings and takes flight towards the upper part of the stable, where he can see from above that it did not look like an ordinary stable, rather it seemed like a seat of the Faith where he observed that some prowling on the roof cherubs, they jumped and crossed mimicking the same gestures that Joshua made in his manger. Impressed, Raeder approached them and began to share with them, flying over where they could do it with their new friends. After a while, Alikanto joined them, who also enjoyed these games precisely, but did not see the Cherubim. He only saw how the two of them jumped but was surrounded by a large concentration of flying Lepidoptera. At the end of the night, when dawn begins, everyone retires and goes to their tents, not knowing what to decide for the next day. The tired Apostle next to Vernarth was glorious with joy after having recalled this episode of the arrival of a Messiah who would transport them from this stable to Gethsemane where his native Aramaic jargon had to enable him to generate synergy between the areas of the Gardens of the Olive trees and Gethsemane, to concatenate the entire phylogeny He only saw how the two of them jumped but surrounded by a large concentration of flying Lepidoptera. At the end of the night, when dawn begins, everyone retires and goes to their tents, not knowing what to decide for the next day. The tired Apostle next to Vernarth was glorious with joy after having recalled this episode of the arrival of a Messiah who would transport them from this stable to Gethsemane where his native Aramaic jargon had to enable him to generate synergy between the areas of the Gardens of the Olive trees and Gethsemane, to concatenate the entire phylogeny He only saw how the two of them jumped but surrounded by a large concentration of flying Lepidoptera. At the end of the night, when dawn begins, everyone retires and goes to their tents, not knowing what to decide for the next day. The tired Apostle next to Vernarth was glorious with joy after having recalled this episode of the arrival of a Messiah who would transport them from this stable to Gethsemane where his native Aramaic jargon had to enable him to generate synergy between the areas of the Gardens of the Olive trees and Gethsemane, to concatenate the entire phylogenies a new bonding relationship between species that were appropriate and endemic to the region near the stable at Bethlem to be inter-inseminated on banks of the Gethsemane slopes, so that linguistics would begin to absorb Joshua and go for a closer shortcut towards the classification of the traditional and omnipotent variants that migrated through the Olive Trees, to renew and preserve the Aramaic or Aramaic languages ​​of a shared origin now, for the omnipotent salvific languages ​​that were to be redirected in Gethsemane. Once leaving for the city of the eight gates, Raeder continued to sway on the roof with the Cherubim, rather they were already inseparable until he received an order from Alikanto that they should hurry back to the stores. He leaves but some mischievous Cherubim follow them and escort them to the tent. The next day at dawn they stand in front of them serenely as if they were still in Kafersesuh. They prepare the camels and the belongings, to resume the return to the final grand opening of Judah; to initiate the trades of reintegration of Saint John the Apostle to the surrealism that predicted him to split poles in his former exile and reintegration, under an early departure to revive the cathedrals of constant ringing and constant vibrating in the bells of Jerusalem and Gethsemane. everyone rides, the Hexagonal Birthright and King David tighten the incisors of the camels heading towards the new door that they took turns opening once they arrived in Jerusalem. Raeder and Petrobus arrived late, flying from the top of the caravan alongside the Cherubim who now guarded them. While the Crickets consumed all the laws that were incommensurable with the litanies of Angels that waited to unroll from In dextro qui non ad altare. "On the boast of those who did not have to reach the altar"



Paraps XXVII

Messiah of Judah IV part

Miracle V- Gethsemane / Aramic Phylogeny

They leave Bethlehem undivided in the Giant Ungulates. Of the seven spaces in the column, the last one that was occupied was the seventh where King David went. Of the five remaining spaces, the Cherubs went, they were playing with Raeder and Petrobus; they showed off with their adventures flying towards elevations of the majestic Sun. The Cherubim tinkled with colors of Abrahamic angelic beings involved in the worship and praise of the Caravan. The Cherubim are first mentioned on the route back to Jerusalem with the large turnout of bumblebees, bees, and wasps all flying alongside Raeder, Petrobus, and Alikanto. They would all stay for up to half a mile before reaching the eight gates and resuming their course to the Garden of Gethsemane. They were surrounded by Debkas dancing in their Aramaic phylogeny. The bumblebees were encrusted by the hills loaded with echoes outside of man...., placing themselves to the east of the Garden of Eden in rows of Cherubim with a flaming sword that turned on all sides to guard the path of the tree of life. Ezekiel describes "four living creatures" as the same beings as the Cherubs, each having four faces that were like a man, a lion, an ox, and an eagle, and each one was tetra-winged. As for their appearance of them: "there was in them the likeness of man" These used two of their wings to fly and the other two to cover their bodies, under their wings they seemed to have the shape or resemblance of a man's hand that resembled the Aramean phylogeny that linked environmental and organic pollinations of Lepidoptera that were carrying the fertilizing spheres to reach the angiosperms. The Christic language was inaugurating the fringe of the frolicsome land that awaited the inauguration of Linguistic Phylogeny to attend to the decrees for the perenniality of the language that relates Gethsemane with the Olivo presses, the Cherubs beating their wings to reach Father Abba. With the flashes of the Apocalypse, the Cherubim danced happily, magnifying the presence of the Apostle in the Hexagonal Birthright with the holiness and power of God, This is one of their main responsibilities throughout the abbey and members mobilize to meet one of the twelve apostles with propaedeutic assonance attached to the twelve Giga camels, in addition to singing praises to Yahweh they also served as a visible reminder of the majesty and glory of the Messiah. The Apostle says by parapsychological regression: "A fascinating route on foot in Jerusalem begins at the top of the Mount of Olives and curiously leads us to the route that will be taken after the evangelical legs of the camelids that will take them to the Holy Sepulchre, Continuing through the Damascus Gate..., here the camelids became restless! Very close by, the topography of the top of the Mount between the route at the foot of Bethany and Jerusalem was perceived, the Garden of Gethsemane crammed with Angels appeared to us..., Joshua's prayers in Aramaic are felt slipping into camel snores as pleas are heard before his arrest in the Garden." Here at that moment, it happens that the flies arrested the apostle, taking him to a specific sector of the orchard where sacred water and humid wind continue to flow, having olive trees growing in the embossed garden with enormous oil press to border them by olive oil pipeline to grace the Lord in laurels from Daphnomancy such a holistic form of divination by which it is intended to make predictions using laurel leaves and branches chewing them before and then lighting them towards the crackle of the consecrated fire of Gethsemane Aramaic that lit paths and feet of Joshua. also carried on its four wings the Cherubim four laurels on each laureate wing.Thickened by palmistry energy, they walked towards the main entrance of the oil press, They arrive in the surroundings of Gethsemane surrounded by Daphnomancy of laurels carried on their wings by the Seraphim, Bumblebees, and others who would be in charge of inseminating the pollinating particles in the angiosperms, thus rescuing minimal words and verbal serial in the words that were transferred from the stable Kafersuseh in Bethlehem so as not to lose the Aramaic word, thus being redistributed to Gethsemane by the Lepidoptera and Bumblebees, wasps and bees. This inter-organic phenomenon would re-couple the verbalized accents of Joshua in middle age and in the unborn in such a way as to preserve the Aramaic dialect, to re-clone the same groupings and intentions as the environmental phylogeny of the dialect in a ritual culture that would redact with insects. and Cherubim, to re-enchant all the pluralities that would be arranged in the Garden to energize the salvific and appearing oil pipelines of the image of Saint John the Apostle, King David, Vernarth, Etréstles, Eurídice, and the rest that make up further from the seventh camelid until reaching the latest; the Fifth Cherub that will be the scribe present together with Pedro and the two sons of Zebedeo, only one with the one nearby in great courage, San Ioannis. His Holiness Joshua used to say: "Abba..., Father, all things are possible for you, take this cup away from me; But not what I want, but what you want. Joshua came later and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter: Simon, are you sleeping? Have not you been able to watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you do not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. Again he went and prayed, saying the same words. When he returned, he found them sleeping again because their eyes were heavy with sleep; And they didn't know what to answer. He came the third time and said to them: Sleep now and rest. Enough, the hour has come; behold, the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Get up, let's go; Behold, the one who delivers me is approaching." From small lively henchmen lights were seen to greater discontent..., they were the executioner, attached to the broken hostile leaf of the laurel that fell on his back "In flames and crackling in all his offspring "The anticipated visions were fertilized by the Cherubs that anticipated events in the chronological life of the apostle having to do with his life as an apostle and evangelist of the new succession after returning from exile. He came close already entering through a path, that was a road where the rows of pipes were that crossed the Getsemaní subsoil. Fifth Cherubim of the Septuagint: "As a scribe of the Hexagonal Primogeniture I make reference to two hundred years before the birth of Jesus, a Greek translation of the Hebrew scriptures developed and became widely accepted as a legitimate (even inspired) translation. Tradition relates to how King Ptolemy II of Egypt established a vast library in Alexandria. However, it was not complete, and he wanted to have a copy of the Hebrew Scriptures in it. Ptolemy sent representatives to Jerusalem and invited the Jewish elders to prepare a new Greek translation of the text. Seventy-two elders six from each of the 12 tribes of Israel came to Egypt to fulfill the request. And as your Santiago, you will write with me the allegory that will shine brightest in Alexandria. Thus they were led to the lonely island of Pharos where at the end of 72 days their work was completed. King Ptolemy was pleased with the result and placed it in his library. When the task was completed the translators compared everything and it was discovered that each one was miraculously identical to the others. The result later became known as the Septuagint (from the Greek word for 70) and was especially popular with Greek-speaking Jews for centuries to come. Hebrew was displaced and Aramaic prevailed, which is the New Testament language that will influence the eclectic of Aramaic as a language that was also ascended with Joshua to heaven to communicate with all the preaching of his Father in the sacred phylogeny with Lepidoptera and his entourage "I am sitting on the last camel, and I know I will be the first."

Ellipsis Prophet Elijah: "They were on Mount Carmel when I summoned the faithful of Baal, Asherah and others. I summoned them to seal a new pact on the slopes that pointed to the howls in Jezrael from where a prolonged and accursed drought was lamented. At the moment all the congregants were absorbed before the imprecation that he made before Ahab asking for the abandonment of Baal and finalizing the 450 pagan prophets, they called Baal in several days and nights and did not answer, Elijah, mocked him saying "Call him with all your might Maybe he fell asleep and needs someone to wake him up." The people gathered on the mountain and then Elijah told them: "You have to decide, If Jehovah is the true God, follow him But if Baal is the true God, follow him. Let's do a test: the 450 prophets of Baal must prepare an offering and call their god, I am going to prepare an offering and call Jehovah. The god who responds by sending fire is the true God." The people accepted. Elijah put his offering on an altar and poured a lot of water on it. Then he prayed: "O Jehovah, let the people see that you are the true God." Immediately Jehovah sent fire from heaven to burn up the offering. The people shouted: "Jehovah is the true God!" Now Elijah said, "Let no prophet of Baal escape." That day, They killed the 450 prophets of Baal. Then a little cloud appeared over the sea, and Elijah said to Ahab, "There's a storm coming. Get your car ready and go home." The sky was filled with black clouds, the wind blew and it started to rain very hard. The drought is finally over. Ahab took off in his chariot as fast as he could. Jehovah helped Elijah to run faster than the chariot. But were all Elijah's problems already over...? Here the god Aiónius rained down in the crystalline waxy dews of the Horcondising proclaiming eternity in the presence of an ascended Merkabah like Elijah. The drought is finally over. Ahab took off in his chariot as fast as he could. Jehovah helped Elijah to run faster than the chariot. But were all Elijah's problems already over...? Here the god Aiónius rained down in the crystalline waxy dews of the Horcondising proclaiming eternity in the presence of an ascended Merkabah like Elijah. The drought is finally over. Ahab took off in his chariot as fast as he could. Jehovah helped Elijah to run faster than the chariot. But were all Elijah's problems already over...? Here the god Aiónius rained down in the crystalline waxy dews of the Horcondising proclaiming eternity in the presence of an ascended Merkabah like Elijah. The ground shakes and initiations of the Aramaic roots appear after the intervention of the fifth Cherub and the prophet Elijah on Mount Carmel, the Phylogeny is testified with links that flow between subterfuges of re-dogmatized civilizations for ignoring their pagan languages ​​and creeds. In this genealogy were the bumblebees, bees, wasps, and Lepidoptera scattering all this stormy rain before they all reached the arenas of Gethsemane with the perfect connection between the idiomatic form, and the interspecies communicated with the vivid expressions where so many times the strings of Joshua circled the Gethsemane tapestry. No doubt here these species will establish the DNA and molecules for successful genetic derivation in an evolutionary environmental testament to the establishment of pollination in the Garden.

Phylogenetic dogma: The coincidences in morphological and embryological themes will be located in the orchard with a great genetic relationship and evolutionary resemblance. to that of the orchard to eternalize the concatenations of both topographical niches, in such a way as to root the Aramaic in all organic elements and not to provide the great prevalence of an eternal pacifying-luminous discourse in creation that does not perish, but rather is reactivated with these procedures in a new phase that the Apostle and Vernarth will inaugurate by reestablishing the premature hegemony of the garden, as a link between birth and resurrection. From the ratio Nazareth – Bethlehem / Kafersesuh – Getsemani. Of these diversifications, the key to the trees and their adaptation to the environment and the new Methodist dogmatics will appear, to adapt it to the material and immaterial elements as a paradise habitat in Judah with adequate species aware of their own self-preservation and self-evolution at the service by Joshua, Says Vernarth: "In Greek mythology, Ilithyia-Eileithyi is our Hellenic goddess of births and midwives. In the cave at Amnisos-Crete, she was associated with the annual birth of the divine child, and her worship is connected with Aeneidaon the earth-shaker who was the chthonic aspect of the god Poseidon. My divine child has similar "Behold the Fifth Miracle" coincidences both in a cave or stable. Ilithyia is seen with the torch-carrying light for the children to come to the world of the Messiah. Now we will shake the garden from its nascent oil ducts, we will have the salvific light that will flow from the hypos secretion of candlesticks with olive oil, anticipating a new messianic verdict, where we will populate the abyss of the earth as a great similar light that will accompany us in Shemesh philosophy. Sun, witnessing to the Messiah and conciliating ourselves with his instructions as it was in Jezrael and now in the garden". Bern Aramic Element from Bethlehem is felt in the messages from the fields of Moab, after the death of Elimelech and Mahlon and Chilion's children, leaving Naomi alone, Alone among the ears of grain. Lepidoptera would begin to fly throughout the lands of Judah after this distressing event. From the separations of the fields in the hot afternoons, Ruth could be seen in the fields and in Hera firmly united to Naomi, where each fence after another will go into the other in the name of Jehovah. Ruth gathers the corn and ears on purpose with the sheaves among the reapers and overgrown sheaves to make the sustenance of a past life of famine brought by Naomi's cries. Then Ruth, after gleaning the grasses, thanked Boaz, looking into his eyes intently, being able to see in him how to lift the hay and run it to the world of the midwives to feed the newborn children anointed by Ilithyah as well, so everyone will eat the pottage and They will satiate until they are very satisfied. From this land of spikes will come the celebrations of Shavuot and good grace for the stay of the Hexagonal Birthright in Gethsemane. The histrionics and ranchers of these lands are making a great contribution to this phylogeny (with the consolidation of the Aramaic language in the garden). Ruth appears saying: "Look at the field, we are all in it, we have water and enough heat from the Shemesh ignition, to give the spikes to grow here is the refuge of Jehovah who gives us his protection making us an equal part of his children to sustain us. I feel great pride in being respectful to Noemi, she will help me with ears of corn that will migrate to Gethsemane with the imminent visit of the Apostle Saint John. The Bumblebees, Bees, and Wasps will be satiated, they will provide the nutrient food to those who will have to make the communications in the garden. "Blessed is the food that she gives you by harvesting it, preserving it and lavishing it"A great archaeological hereditary axiom begins to be evidenced in this agriculture transmitted from the field to the expression of epistemic-emotional areas that represent endocranial and buccopharyngeal molds of sheep that intervene with tillage and weevils. Here the beloved rhetoric of the weevils will intervene with personal wings from the basic strut of their emotions, attracting signals in the fields and images described by flocks of insects that migrated from this passage in the Book of Ruth in order to relay them with phonetic signals that go beyond the spike that is rather a settlement or a current Kibbutz, to mold or settle archaic civilizations under an idiomatic link that will attend the phylogeny as cephalization of invertebrate animals with those of kind of support,

Phylogeny in Gethsemane: The **** Erectus crossed paths with multiple pieces of evidence of adaptive pro-evolution beings, Neanderthal/**** Sapiens. The children of Israel wrote parables, epistles, verses, stories, and books..., their phonetic vocal tract spoke of storms and environmental factors between heaven and earth "Great noise outside of us, but little silence in us." What is elemental is the larynx that has only pronounced the image that denounces a concept evoking the minimum sound in the different positions of its instrumentalized mega sound. Speaking to us how language varies according to history and the civic-environmental environment, instructing us on its threshold and caste as it detaches itself through aerial effusions from the statement at the laryngeal level. It authoritatively collects the intervals of vocalization and relationship with agriculture in all its dimensions descending through its internal panels but rising through our parietal emotions outside of herself. The little of the air that the world has left to continue digesting temporarily have it to let air flow that is possessed in mechanically inert particles, and not in sanctified prophecies with corollaries of miracles. Inherences have made of a super existence of those who still do not perish by the hand of a monarchical mandate, even the mute swallow air is suffocating and contaminated halves while others redistribute them for those who need to sit at the table to collect the unleavened and share it with what the rest. "Here resounds the echo of my Christic body". That in Aramaic will syndicate much more than the phrasing in its blood, grapheme and phonemes or stylistics that is the commotion of vibrating beyond the deep ground reverberating with the grace of its divine statement". Joshua resists spikes and olive leaves simultaneously disposing of us in his arms as his children, he is a sheep in his arms lactating hydro-milk of sustenance from his creative verb. "a strict fact of preserving Aramaic and not misleading them by turning the pages of history". The Aramaic must be incorporated so that Joshua, after more than two thousand years, can see that He is still here walking from one place to another to tell us that He is still here, only suggestive of your walking, plagiarizing your larynx in the sound of His expression and shepherding. The sheep are quadrupedal..., more mammalian than a man because its statement is always reflected in the bases of its skull for the rest of its offspring as a biblical expression, under all the rainbows of the cherubim, together with the children surrounding them in identical intention. **** habilis–**** Sanctus, which is a process that has a charismatic base and peripheral anatomical volume for the exposed part of the sternum by confusing them with each other, not altering their structural or functional complexity. From the potential of Lepidoptera and winged weevils, the phenotype will emerge that will relate and relativize the mechanics of Aramaic or the Aramaic method of not losing the gibberish because it is divine, as well as it is exalted and laryngeal torque to those who possess Aramaic blood and body, since its motorized mysticism is to devour minimum words with maxims in a whole of ranges and sounds of the field, dialoguing: "Come to my field, here the ears of corn and weevils will speak more than the mechanical potential of Your Voice". They continue through the Ruth field integrating phonemes in small verses that go from the shelter of words and that refer to settlements of which they do not speak only suggest the presence of Jeheová without being present, but if after being with his stomach satisfied parodying activities in the field with his plectrum made a reality in a transgenerational poetic-hydric whole of ancient peoples who no longer speak..., "They only express wisdom in ****** agro-phrases of spikes and olives in all their songs." After walking through cobbled and narrow streets that are now full of runes with Bedouin fumaroles..., it is such a walk through an avid heart of alkaloids and lipids; touring synagogues and evoking an outstanding barrage of pilgrimages without knowing how many more will escort them in our attempts. The walls that protect Jerusalem are witnesses to many battles that have been fought "in the name of God". As well as the ground that speaks for itself, without a doubt the Mount of Olives can be seen from Jerusalem beautifully but not, in the same way, the other way around. The forests whose fruits contribute positively to the economy of the region, in addition to symbolizing strength, security, and prosperity, give hope in the journey of history the same as nothing that tires of the same. The Garden or Garden of Gethsemane, a name that alludes to the olive mill used to extract and process the oil according to the Gospels, The Lord came to Gethsemane with his disciples to dedicate some time to prayer, but since the atmosphere in Jerusalem was one of hesitation and high tension due to the celebration of the Jewish Passover festival due to the context of the political and military occupation of the Roman Empire, Jesus was very saddened and began to get distressed...holding on to the branches every time he felt an olive near his denoted fingers. Etréstles says: "All the physical, exalted and psychic forces of Jesus here stink digging into the organic tissue, experiences that go beyond the intellect..., it is the proper and unequivocal admissibility of military feet walking on the ground after meditation and recollection. From today when the lights between shadows will fill the limits of the orchard with connection, They will have to graze on the Gigas ungulates when the atmospheres have to make the tribune grass grow on their idyllic evangelizer to have it for tomorrow in the meditation of dawn. All the pros and cons will have to get lost with prayer guests that will inhabit spaces that will not intervene in human reason. Meditation with the Cherubim in the hexagonal primogeniture and weevils interpenetrating divisions of time that is obtained at the end of a calm, and being able to offer with imagination the inclemencies of having everything just beginning. That is prayer, it begins cyclically and then returns to the beginning, without leaving us comforted to finish what the circle of lapse of the meditative circumambulation does not enclose. Saint John the Apostle expounded: More than pain and concern, After praying, he regained his strength and courage to face the vine with disappointments and betrayals with the courage of hopeful dignity. But more than this atavistic-anthropological complex it is salvific integrity that the verb saves the term, through the vibratory prayer of sound and perception of words and more with the Aramaic sound that narrows like the streets of Jerusalem, to distinguish biases in praising essence in the elements of noise almost to the harmonic limit of a sound perfecting itself in a psalter or a parable, which emerges from its oropharyngeal fret, leaving without expiation the abrupt change of Hebrew thought and doctrine, together with the external sound emancipating in the perfect cacophony of its inner vibratory howl beyond the ritual that pleases our insufficiencies by having an Abba. He sanctifies and purifies because he is substance and the dawn of a new earth that lies in the garden of prayer, and all the times that they have to get up to grab the Bible and watch as an indivisible interloquy in me prostrated each time I get up and speak with my Abba being attentive to lock me in his dimension. The food that returns and feeds back is the lineage provided with justice to inhabit the body that synthesizes its protean oratory, the food that you go there from a breeze and from revelry puts all its outfits on the tables to sit around is the lament that smells of seeds that evaporate from the hands and the heat of the holy field. The food that speaks of inviting so many to sit next to us is the one who was least thought to be lacking in love and should not be prepared, being the indicated one who would eat everything until he was satisfied, leaving nothing in the compote or in the yeast, because from it the food that satisfies will persist only for those who have the excessive spirit of the famine of those who can be quenched. Gethsemane is a flowery field where intoxicated Lepidoptera and Angels who only have one mission fly; "Give food to those who owe the desire to eat and nothing else because the rest that suggests it is abstention, and this will be procrastination of the verb that ceases to create endowment even wanting it, because all the sustenance of life can cease by risking bread and came more than to consecrate Health! Rather, it is due to the nourished devotional circle of the action of lavishing the circle of Son-Father granting the establishment of hunger-satiety to forge genetic and paternal seeds to recirculate them in the chain of procreation. Eurydice speaks: "My body undulates like a peg towards my beloved Joshua, I come from the figurehead of a ship. I went to Jerusalem to look for flowers that pour aromatic to bring and exalt their words tied to their feet. I was late and I lost my way, unable to find my way back. I only saw that from afar some lights in the northern area of ​​the orchard lit up like olive cyclers exploding in the air in nocturnal fireflies that swarmed together with the Lepidoptera..., they guided me here. But I repeat, when I saw the lights it took me back to when I was little in my distant Greece with Orpheus when he managed to sleep on Cerberus near Lake Styx. But I reiterate..., beyond the lights I have been able to see how the weevils are framing and plotting your words, my beloved Joshua, that the auditors will be able to help the square and interpret for many more than thousands of years, taking us with pre-recipients that allow us to feel their voice and hear it as far away as if it were closer than the olive branch that caresses their face. But I reiterate, I never thought I would get lost, I am even arriving as if I were from the figurehead of my ship, I always wanted to be close to the world of light of the Olivo of Barnea genetics like this one that has led me to meet it" Eurídice heads to the holy place, when it approaches, the Fireflies and Lepidoptera come out to pick it up, they allied themselves with the twisted shadows of olive trees, sharpening in clear harmony with the mirror archetypes of the dark foliage reflecting the green shadows on the wild fruits,

Just eleven days before the ekadashi of the full moon, the phenomenon of the harvest took place, which happens after a year of the abundant harvest of olives and another in which the harvest is small, here the change of nuances and corrugated textures is evident in the countenance of the olive trees without it being possible to think that this phenomenon will necessarily take place on a biennial or triennial basis. It was suspected and was known that the developing fruits would go to this event through their hormones and substances that intervene in their growth, acting as inhibitors of the differentiation of the buds, for which many of them would change when they were transformed into flowers to make them into the wood, from this process it was deduced that alternate bearing occurs when grass and gospel are lacking. The actions aimed at promoting ascending harvests in years that correspond to load, through the care of the planting of meditation and the abandonment of it in the years of discharge contribute even more, to accentuating the vecería in the doubts of faith. Some varieties of olive trees are more frequent than others, so it can be guessed that a genetic component is generated in this phenomenon. On the other hand, there will be the Christian cultivation technique, reducing the frequency of rotation, such as irrigation or the early harvesting of the olive for the tables that need to have it on their tablecloth. In such a way that this phenomenon will help the genetic phylogeny to reinsert lost expired words of antiquity in the emanation of the wisdom of God, through the universe acting as a great Drupa or peach that will assimilate being the amygdala that will allow sent vibrations to nod when they connect with the soil plagued walking and retraced the Messiah bringing us to his land with words in Aramaic of sacred salvation and his ancestry of word surveyor worker; which will allow us to transfer some appropriate spirit possession from him to Patmos when we return. Says King David: "as the Olivar de Barne species of the old husk will serve us for the Morning harvest with its fat percentage helping us to sustain the Shemesh fat of the new Sun to brandish winds that will hide the nocturnal haze of the waning moon. All as kings we have been baptized with oil in our solemnities, also coins traded in Kar to pay their benefits with the allegory of Yotam, in the Book of Judges to choose the king of the trees..., refusing the olive tree because it had to produce oil in the Menorah are the two tiny but large olive branches that illuminate the great temple of life. Now we will need it because the eleven days come before rescinding the cessation of Aramaic as a lost language, rather reimposing it as an entity of its channel with a gesture-light and space that hears or listens in repeated Aramaic oropharyngeal systems, and voices when lamenting in Hebrew happily the passages of the Torah with the same meaning and channeling source of the Pentateuch, to repast in the Barne species and transcend in its science together with its Katapausis phylogeny in the monastic cell of San Juan in Patmos next to Vernarth." Euridice kept giving atomic spouts and impulses at his feet to get to Gethsemane soon. Upon arrival, he insinuated how the Cherubim were pruning the Olive Trees next to the Hexagonal Birthright. Everyone was preparing for the olive tree festival in the Garden. He almost reached the end of King David's itchy speech among the Roses of Sharon, more than the cobbled one that a Cherub was replying to him so that nothing would waste being heard by his listeners on the Prow figurehead. It arrives and carries the odoriferous trans-essences in Astragalus, to begin with, intuitive adoration for each barefoot step that each petal and particle of its essence took, revering the base of the invested Messiah, reaching the perfect triangulation of balsamic acid and thorns with increased Aramaic of reviving the Barne Olive Grove Trail,



Paraps XXVIII

Mashiach of Judah V part

Miracle VI- Gethsemane / Maasefa

In this chapter preface, in particular, the revelation of three fundamental phases of the outcome of this chapter of Judah by the will of the god Aiónius in all real events and not, because the submithology that concerns us is of living relevance and is not experiment. Here Ezpatkul will enter Dóntiakul or prominent Augrum or Oro teeth turningScarabaeidaedemarcating the Vóreios Vóreios throughout the Horcondising region bilocating it in Encinas de Patmos borers, with such frenzy...!, that from there they would draw the strength of the north winds and the Olivos Barnea.

a) The subsequent phase after the Stable in Bethelem (Kafersuseh) will entail the neurochemical conformation of energies subtracted from visions of the stable, exclusively from the roof incontinenti of the intervention of the Cherubim with their four wings like the Lepidoptera (butterflies) incurring an original nexus messianic equipped with pheromonic sensitivity and chemical activation in the pollinations of bumblebees, bees, and wasps to regenerate the species of Olive Barnea consolidated the language and perpetuate it as a dialect of Messiah-Abba.

b) Phylogeny is subtracted from this phase itself as a relationship between species or taxa in general of tree species and wild plants. Although the term also appears in historical linguistics to refer to the classification of human languages ​​according to their common origin, the term is used primarily in its biological sense. The symbiosis of both interactions will intervene in the juxtaposition of "Joshua is born-dies in the interval" when he is born in the stable" but his analogy with Gethsemane and Golgotha, the two "G" will recreate the salvific miracle and anticipation of the Scourge that he will suffer but the Hexagonal Progeniture (Men and animal and insect species) will intervene with salvific action from the caves to rejoin the dry bones of Maasefa humanity. It also saves us from Shibboleth, identifying the members of a group in a kind of password) that appeals to changes in the use of phonetics in terms of difference and aspires to reorder social disagreements, caused by conflicts even of lost concomitant civilizations and their socio-cultural niche patrimonial, therefore from Aramaic as an anticipated signal thread of a beginning of communicative intention and preservation of messianic language)

c) The physical, mental, geophysical, and spiritual elemental energies will mutate the adherence of the Aramaic dialect with the pollen duct generated in the Barnea olive species, creating a relationship of chemical change in them deified in favor of a new "Bern of Vernarth" with the interaction of the isotope that will generate the inclusion of a proton that will mutate the chemistry of divination and connectivity with him (Heavenly Father-Abba in the Garden) in such a way that the methodological lines of anticipation will prosper on the night of the abduction by Sayones before being taken to the Lithostrotus to be flagellated to interpret the power of his gospel.

d) And for a consequent and emeritus synchronization of caverns in conjunction with dry bone Maasefa, triggering the awareness of the awakening of protection before, during, and after the events that occurred at the culmination of his death. This will delve into the three chemical sediments interacting with each other, the Aramaic language enchanting the univocal and eternal root to always have it in Gethsemane, the revelation of phylogeny as a determining entity for the consolidation of the geophysical-animal world, and the transcendent soul that intervenes between the stars of the everlasting creation on Crescent Moon eleven days earlier with Sun-Shemesh astonishingly at the debasement of the human species and all of its feelings of unconfessed loss of existence.

e) Experiencing and surviving indecisions and fears of recognition of exposing and externalizing the calls of caverns have allowed us to escape from threats, but from there towards a reverberation in the same tune of Calvary, in the sockets of a skull sheltering you to serve and look from the optics of shining with the flow of ears of wheat in your dreams. Gethsemane and Golgotha ​​are the set of double "G" that generates endo-trauma in the throat and in its global skeleton bone set wanting to revive the call of the Messiah, from the Neck of Heaven rising roughly up your throat, forever and for the Centuries. of the Centuries.

f) The plectrum led me to write this paradisiacal essay in this chapter (it is the same depressive unconsciousness of having a body already abandoned without a Soul, but in my own without understanding anything), this tends to describe how history teaches us that there are phenomena difficult to capture with certainty, the masque of extra mediumistic sensitivities emerging from where our conscience does not discover what spiritual power does canonically the intuitive divine exponential or the external machine of multiple systems of serial spirits that besiege us and show us their Ether and that rarely can we actually be able to enter them from deep inside from their activation data to our hyper cognition, and their level of travel leading us to abandon our abstraction.

They were all stationed on the northeast *****, Eurydice arrived with her essences full of little birds surrounding her, she could not hold them due to the invasion of these surprising birds. They were all sitting on the stones of the garden, they were all leaning their heads on the Svein Tzora stones. Says Vernarth: "The stone of Gethsemane", on grains and crystals they are soaked with spheres of the stone of the Mashiah. She showed them meekness in the face of the hardness that could be distinguished compared to limestone or clay, full of sedimentary grains that devastate igneous from where some voices of her holocaust were left over, compared to marrying corporeal materiality in the Aramaic syllable embedded in a stripped bustle and silent, of everything and little petulant organic element coexisting in its amorphous figure. This graphs the consonance with the demonstrations of passion for his followers by embedding himself in a stone with multiple and sharp cuts like taking out the atoms in a grenade with his law of 613 grains that are enough to stipule them and to break the lithosphere of the messianic referendum in his sacrificial law. in the lithostrotes. No barrier will stop us to overcome this lithosphere that separates us so coldly from the rebirth of a body that takes root beyond the cracks of Gethsemane since the olive trees grow on the same stones, pretending to be in a mansard. The will of destiny under a stone, admits arrogant worries to startle that "He was there, and his destiny condemned him", but "My Abba, if it is possible for this cup to pass from me; but let it not be as I want, but as You want...", equivalent to telling of stones for all the cups, as long as the will is of the Abba", thus the stones are lightened, and our pride weighs less than the subterranean immortality. Saint John says: "Which is agony, it is nothing more than holding in our dreams the heavy shadow of its burden. The stone does not fit through the interstices of dreams but its image weighing in the symbology of being part of it, more than all hailstorms being the scene of sin near the disciple family and their despondency that runs where a curtain circulates towards the Resurrection. The large drops are large grains of the pomegranate in the Via Dolorosa, being large stones falling from the universe rubbing against the Sun and the Moon, falling on Him as well. Today on this day that he confesses tribulation of an eternal night that he never clarified..., It will start to rain, interrupting itself for days running backward, since several syllables remained un catechized before rising from where the wind of Elijah called him Mashiach. Revered Mashiaj, always close to you jumping from the red sea such a pomegranate as the food of a Father between waves of his sea! Again we are in the celebration of Holy Week and we have thought it appropriate to write this work on the stone of Gethsemane with a gifted scene that was his arrest, caused by the petty betrayal of all the Treacherous in the world. Mashiah, lonely in his full youth of thirty-three years in Aramaic verses succumbing to the arms of his Abba, .. He takes him and wraps him in his arms to defend him from the darkness shedding blood and tears on a cracked stone, beyond the skies that predecessor grenades in his hands revealing will that surpasses the levels of being rescued more times. There is a bitter taste of fruit, of course, but it tastes like a red planting of the dry red rock that is not emanated from anything but that if it brings us the generous hand that ceases pain and affliction, that produces sweet sleep even having wrought iron entering through your carpals and tarsal feet. With the pantomime of our morbidity we stretch our arms on your crucified cross but without awareness of the ******* test of not experiencing the iron in our questioned soul, without crucified skin in the epidemic that the beast of punishment gave to his skin between screams and hoarse cries that if they slip towards him, rather under the acíbar of a hammered heartless glass inert and stone that runs towards the west looking for the voices of his pious mother. The sip of the sunset was ingested in the sadness of my life that begins to be reborn every time it was lost and lifeless without feeling it as mine. I sleep vigil on the flames of the stand in the stones of the fire, and I sleep because others will not wake me up on the edge that cuts my game in flames. What cowardly courage accumulating in a depersonalized spilled heart..., what hours will have to pass without feeling them to date the entrance into his body of burning iron towards the sacrifice and not the sacrifice. "Let it continue here in this pebble with the shape that bears fruit because it will not burst with impatience, but rather with tears of pomegranate grains." What stronger aloe than seven days in a row turning to my usual sweetness sin to finish them abandoned without savoring it. For the first time since I returned from exile, I understand that his Aramaic smells like wisps of fruit and hundreds of syllables that are..., whipped like mega words that smell like his upright trunk in solitude and abandonment. Its trunk like mine is stone of tree bark, of vile whips lost in the frieze of its temple breaking its head bark, weeping its moans in full reconverted hopes of a hidden Ziziphus crown. They are nailed to a purple wisp of pomegranate, defeating the ailment of those who dared to martyr him in the pain that runs through his icy strata..., not sifted even by brave poor people; as it is to say by the voice of the wealthy spirit helping you. "Being prepared and No,

Maasefa Stone Powder: "You are made of stone and you will become stone" were the words of communion in Gethsemane of the stone of the Mashiach's prayer, indicating the expression of freedom and cessation of the oligarchy of belonging to the doctrine of the world of dimensional physical slavery, and its intertwined solidity of stones that the priests elaborated in the catacombs in times of consecration of loved ones towards a centile universe of Orthodox spirituality. Here are the stones carved like the Sanhedrin that met in the building known as the Hall of Carved Stones (Lishkat Ha-Gazith) for this purpose it will be the conservation of ossuaries of the high authorities and common citizens, having the prerogative of the Maasefa that has to consist of collecting the bones of all those reduced after a year in complete secrecy in the assigned catacombs. Through this immediacy of low and recondite spaces grows the vague wandering of precepting in approaching the salvific redemption awaiting the projection of the expired ancestors in the source of eternal life accepted by the Mashiach (Messiah), to shelter us in his illusion in beautiful brotherhood before to be resurrected. The Hexagonal Primogeniture would go by way of making the nucleus of nearby songs of the oratory of the orchard towards an honorable mention of elaborating concavities in the geology of the orchard, so that the alliance of the Aramaic verb of cloistering and devotion of the members in each stony cell, and the explosion of the Aramaic verb speaking infinitely of the Father-Son analogy. In such a way that translucent particles will be spread by the rhizomes of the Olivos Barnea species; deriving to Bern for the posthumous tribute of Vernarth considered Champion of conservation and cenacle of living and extinct organic bones, such as the aforementioned case of the Apostle before gathering as elemental dust of Joshua's Maasefa prior to the completion of the withdrawal of the Garden of Gethsemane. Shofar, sistrum, harp, and cymbals resonate for the wise night and its star sign before starting the excavation works in the nearby veins to conclude the Maasefa. They all sleep together that night touching each other's heels in the matrix phase to start a day with the strength of the stonework from left to right for the allegory of the Menorah that never leaves the magnetized night. They rise at twenty minutes to four to begin the ritual, an hour and a half before sunrise they were in the stratum of purple dawn on layers of divinity tinged with the conscious subtlety of the creator in our levitating being. Its consequences arise before their bodies continue to evolve towards the hegemonic process on the stratum of the nascent mineralogy that was going to intervene, being oratory of the Mashiach or synchronic Messiah. Beneath it, Vernarth would begin to pierce looking for the dimensional spaces of the search for his physiognomic extension adaptable to everyone's and evolutionary memory that separated the entrance of the Shemash and Selene over the glasses waiting to be filled and drunk at noon. Eleven days before the Ekadashi (full moon) began. Thus, in this way, they would sculpt the poked catacomb in twelve simultaneous rocks that were in a perfect limbic diametral circle of the plotline of the orchard with their physical displacements in congruence with the moon and consciousness that agrees with it, like that alert of that fateful night in which was kidnapped. In perfection with the oscillating vibration that is expanding in front of the dorsal cold of the stone analogically when the Mashiach vibrated in physical magnitude and in the absence of alert, more emotional if after talking with his Abba. The tremulous line she encompassed was widely displaced further since she was transported into the Edicule isotope as an element of flight, escape, detonation and resignation, being able to find nature configured in the fuss of a great variety of isotopes of different mass. the one in a large part will exceed in the cumulative gasified reaction, and in cathartic events that will occur at fifteen o'clock on Good Friday when the prophetic events and the mischievous changes of evidence of the cataclysm expire on the cross and hands. The eclipsed sun, storm with depressing losses, and tragedy for a world that will sleep more than seventeen hundred years to the right create the consciousness of being in more than two conscious places, with the minimum and childish aspect of the remaining second that is divided between the before and after the physical and physiological abandonment, beginning a final episode and conclusive torment that precedes a culminating beginning. All this transformation of the enclave and energetic dimension allowed them to synchronously pierce the sedimented rocks that were thus sustained in the timid energy, generating higher will field electromagnetism. Thus, in the sinkholes, everyone was drilling, they would be of the same mass category as the isotopes to manifest the energy and its dynamic charge, such an occlusive energy mass that would explode on the day of Golgotha's martyrdom. Preceding this energy phenomenon underlies the symmetry of the magnetic field created synchronously with words emitted in comparative Aramaic words with reminiscences that must serve in the twelve caverns of the garden in conversions and exchanges of exhalations of bees, bumblebees, and wasps of the curved universe that transits in the explosiveness of the lines that approach the dislocation ratio of the vibrations and their sound frequencies. Globally pollination as a genetic element of the fresh chlorophyll macerated as kinetics in elytra of Lepidoptera with the indications of connecting the clan with the aforementioned electromagnetic energies. The interaction of the fields within the system will be induced between Golgotha ​​and Gethsemane, they will establish here electric charges that will produce gases and liquids that will intervene in the entire lithosphere that unites both portions of soils, this created the interaction of particles establishing the undermining of rocks with basin-shaped Calota de Calavera, due to the geological conformation of the radius that surrounds both predicted areas. From this standard, the caverns will be improvised in the garden, magnetizing the vibration areas that depend on each other. The search Interrelates a magnetic and electrical phenomenon between both zones; the impulse to anticipate the premonitions of the Mashiach is derived, and how he was going to endure such torments towards his illustrious body in such a way as to retransmit it electromagnetically between the transmission bridge of the Garden and admission to Golgotha. This will unleash all subsequent supernatural and geological phenomena during the day of his torment and delicacy that will be glimpsed by decree of an execution damaged humanity exposed to orthodox fanaticism, causing a sensitive correspondence between the transmission of faith and the dogma of attending to the work physical and mystical legacy to protect for successive generations in the species Berna Olivar, ratifying correlation of the majestic and axiomatic cultivation of preservation under the catacombs and unalterable progeny of concelebrations of the eternal relation of a coalition of prosapia united to the shock and conscience of Christian Eternity. This gravitational potential energy will associate the Aramaic multi-effect towards all the attendees to confer, dialogue, assimilate and consent towards a supra lingual organic and historical heritage dynamic channel, on the basis of a monumental act of consanguinity in front of all will, "Here are all alphas over omegas." Creating complex harmonic movements between the caverns of impiety, but with a perfect and renovating equation with the redeemed Prayer in Aramaic towards the universe in quasi-face-to-face degrees, but not verifiable until the ritual of saving prayer is concluded. The chain reaction of this divine particle will be the opposite reaction tax of the active consolidation work area tensioned between the pilasters, Golgotha ​​and Gethsemane, both are started with "G" and if you turn it in any direction surrounding it you make a perfect skull of no more than twelve kilometers, whose distance in a direct line would certainly be crossing the eternal vision through ocular concavities, demonstrating levels of analogy and esoteric analysis. The extended reciprocity and supra value of divine consciousness are latent, from where the emission of the word and the will is born "the Calota or head skeleton" in the sense of reduced material and the corpuscle of antimatter that would come to be where the universes intersect in the elite of direct mercy (one has already happened, but another sphere of the difficult concavity has yet to travel..., only a Messiah will have to cross it when it returns to us again). This Eclipse of the Messiah of the Sun is a dark aspect of anemic light, torment, and three Maries, vindicating itself in this token of superficial passion in the Garden and antimatter rooted in the anti-particle, which evades this great event by lavishing its blessed spiritual figure with a charge of ambivalent theological antimatter; of egregious trust and bipartite univocity but fainting for the dark mercy on Golgotha ​​and light in the Garden of Gethsemane. "His body trembling and the Earth also" Shibboleth was getting up to distinguish members of a group such as the tribe of Ephraim, whose dialect lacked a sound (S), unlike others such as the Gileadites, whose dialect did include it. Shibboleth is a spike and also celebrates the fertility of the wheat crops and all concomitant species of the natural and endemic species of central Judah. And the Gileadites took the fords of the Jordan River to Ephraim, and when one of Ephraim who had fled said, Shall I cross over? The Gilead asked him, Are you an Ephraimite? If he answered no, then they told him: Well say "shibboleth". And he said shibboleth because he couldn't pronounce that luck. Then they laid hands on him and cut his throat. And so died forty-two thousand of those of Ephraim. however renewing when released by the contending magnetic forces that made Virola a whole that surrounds Gethsemane and Golgotha ​​as a magnetized tunnel of great mystical conversion for purposes of adaptability and preservation of renewed fertilizations of bumblebees, bees, and wasps in view of a commonwealth conforming and spreading in all spheres of faith and apotheosis from the pre-act of the Messiah's refuge to the judgment and punishment of his truth. After expunging their scourge in a dazed journey, they will fall with great similarity to the verb "Betrays and Forgives", the Universe in its creation renews everything, because that is how it has been written since the beginning of the Universe and by whoever dictated it." Shibboleth, will reconcile differences of understanding without prejudice and differences of geographical, anthropological, lingual mentions, cultural and divine verticals. "Our informal culture is preserved within village houses by resisting the scourge of victorious death, within the cave that protects us in its infinite mercy and commiseration" Maasefa and The Valley of Dry Bones collide at the appointed time the Svein Tzora, "the flintstones", to kindle the fire of the Messiah. The thunder was such that it made the seas decant for rivers and thunder on the terraces of the houses and fire on the banks of each unfulfilled prayer! Everyone gets up, each one leaving each cave of his ordeal, and goes to the meeting of the Dry Bones. The tradition of gathering the bony componential that has no soul all deviates towards the request of the flesh for its soul. As the account of the Prophet Ezekiel, five hundred years BC There are many outstanding remains of bones, this would resume in Gethsemane for the offspring of the Messiah's son caste, the Cherubim with the Lepidoptera twenty meters from the Svein Tzora donating light and heat to begin the ritual of dim moonlight. It is already a crescent moon and dim green lights shine through the beautiful dim green branches that light up the dry land of the beloved orchard on the face of the wasteland Calvary. The advantageous meats that began to butcher the bones raised the desire to start ultra fast in the oropharyngeal area, to endow solemnity and fulfillment of the prophecy of the sacred language of the Aramaic lingual group in tune with the vibrations of sound waves of the wind in romance with the blows of the fire towards their faces. In this way, the spirit of Jehovah was adhered to reunite the primary words of reunion of the edicts of Bethhelem, with the visions of Joshua so that the stable in its language emits the immortal edict from the very stable Kafersuseh to Gethsemane. Now everything was holy energy in union with the lands that made the compost fertile and his word was fulfilled, The valley of olive trees was reconverted and prayed complacency, everyone tried in the attachment of clan and twilight in the accidentality of the event, the new reason will not deprive of anointing the past-present in the realization of the joy of remains with bones, of laughter with laughter, of a patriarch with veterans, of offspring with their offspring, with the greatest thing than a hand covered with a great spirit over a valley where only distensions and candles should fit in each one of them. with Joshua's visions for the stable in his language to issue the immortal edict from the very stable Kafersuseh to Gethsemane. Now everything was holy energy in union with the lands that made the compost fertile and his word was fulfilled.



Paraps XXIX

Mashiach of Judah VI part

Miracle VII- Gethsemane / Meshuva Basics

The kicks of the feet begin. The twelve Giga camels stand up with their paired toes beginning to peel off the fat deposits of the remaining six camels with hoofed nails. They tore the epidermis with their fingernails to spread fat and oil into the lamps of light they need to distribute from the Full Moon in each palm of each component. The moon was in cacophony, it walked everywhere and imagined itself in the court of King David, drowsing in cubicles at the first light of the second sleep in the morning. Undivided they walked in procession through the source of the change in the socio-religious paradigm that kept them united, they were Raeder and Petrobus, Alikanto with a golden mount on his small back, the Lepidoptera, bumblebees, bees, and wasps, they tiptoed silently over the first level of damp wind at dawn, many of them perched on the backs of immune camels to ride with them to the reestablished Gethsemane starting point. In their phylogeny they collaterally impute the taxonomy that belongs to the camelid genus, which is a taxonomic category that is located between the family of Judah and the Middle East in the buried ecclesiastical species; thus, a genus of a group of organisms is propitiated, which in turn can be divided into several species. As ungulates as well as strictly herbivores, their musculature differs from other proboscideans in that the legs are attached to the body only at the upper thigh, instead of being connected from the knee up by skin and muscle, therefore it will be very easy for them to connect with flying insects so that they do not have to kneel. While the six sectioned the tanks of another six, and so they will continue to be stationed and intervened until their superficial wounds heal before leaving for the return to the port of Jaffa. On this long journey until dawn, they must stand on their footpads to resist the final farewell cult of the twelve caves, as they emerge from the placental sites they had developed with the Primogen to empower the vestigial area of ​​the rescued Aramaic word. This will be to grant and scale prosperity by having the signs of vitality intertwined, with each reminiscence of calls and responses of messages for the "Propitius Esto Humanity" that is projected in the secular future. This will be generated by external stimulation each time the intention to communicate with the ceremonial of existence-life-deaths-fullness is presented, thus the voice of the greatest incisive devotional forces will resemble, grabbing or grabbing the smallest voices that can even be overlooked or not understood when the Golden Gate of Jerusalem is inaugurated. From the very top, the Gigas species can be seen walking with six candlesticks, these species cross their artiodactyl locomotion towards a fluctuate on the flames of the candlesticks towards the rock of Mashiaj. While the other camels were recovering from their wounds, they looked with their calm eyes and were very aware of the proselytizing nunciature that channeled the reactions of the Hexagonal Progeniture, thus being absolved of the commitment of the prayers for the new launch with the atmospheric ordering ceremony in Getsemaní with the voices of the Messiah, with the framework, volume, and reverberation to flood with light and sounds in all the geographical areas that have not had a subscription. As the Giants trod the grounds with their hoofed nails, Vernarth and Alikanto, Saint John the Apostle, King David, Eurydice, Raeder, and Petrobus (The Hexagonal Primogeniture), made solemn vows before such an episode. It was not long before dawn and even Selene disputed with other stars of the envelope to shine more for such a great event..., as it is surprising at the moment that everything would seem of stillness and gestation of winged embryos appearing from the top of the Bern Olive trees near the Cherubs. They came with the Mashiaj who brought them new charities..., he could be seen in a deep field in two light bulbs of his white tunic, full of gold and blue lace, with Lepidoptera around him throughout the journey distilling crimson celestial radiosities.  Meshuva white cloak descended through the fronds of the olive trees lit and previously illuminated by the northeast ***** of the orchard, the Cherubim and Archangel Miguel and Gabriel came with decided parallelism by six-folding the interpretations expressed by the Lepidoptera, for the purpose of consolidating the institution of the north side of Gethsemane as a sanctified area of ​​Aramaic prayer and devotion of absolute naturalization of the classification of the Cherubim and Lepidoptera as winged tetras and Cultivators of the phylogenetic transmission of the pollen-orchard on the opening of the gynaeceum of the Olivo Berna, in the Valley of the Olives, and taxonomic choice by hierarchical order of the species and geo-referencing of the asteroseismic corridor of the narrow pass between Bethhelem and Gethsemane. On the tops of the olive trees were the Cherubim and the Lepidoptera, they fluttered through the flowery ramifications intertwined with the Messiah's tunic that came descending with an accent of graceful Torah, then the dawn of pre-dawn fireflies re-blooms on his face..., they brought a million beams of another thousand groups of beams to be born among the first luminaries of the day. The Lepidoptera ascended through an oval interval and in a spiral path through the petiole until the fifth generation of Rapa or Eskimo with forty flowers with four white petals in phylogenetic synchrony with Cherubim and Lepidoptera with four elementary portions to deliver the fundamental membrane that will generate the physiognomy of the Messiah between the transposed ones, and blond, ruddy lights of the Messiah's face with the cross-like texture of themselves on their shoulders of Capernaum dew. The Esquimo or the flowers would grow in clusters of between ten to forty flowers in perfect series depending on the variety, each flower would also have four white petals, a little pulpy facing each other in a symmetrical cross, and the flower will bring in the center an orange-yellow hue of an arboreal sphinx that would be filled with clusters that will transform the appearance of the oil-bearing tree, giving white brushstrokes to the olive grove before stingy gallantry glances. Each flower will supper from its captive pollen for approximately one week, so the flowering phase of the olive trees will turn before a brief duration, but of a messianic lapse with the cyclical lives of their idyllic Syriac Aramean. The female and hermaphrodite caste will bring you the biblical universal pollen with tremulous stamens and surcharged pistils traveling more than nine and a half kilometers from Bethlehem of the "Kafersuseh" to the orchard. Before the majestic pollination, the archangels Michael and Gabriel will invade two percent of the gynoecium of the flowers, giving way to the Meshuva candid cloak, full of white apotheosis petals. Vernarth rushes to the ground and rolls around between the petals filling his entire body and face with thousands of them, leaving many of them transfigured in the oily fruit of the Palate Universe between the ring finger and the index finger with an accent of Purification of the Mikveh, floating like neutron orbit of Life and Micro Universe only to be entranced by the presence of the Messiah in his white robe of petals.  Coming down with Bernese Petals strawberry trees in his white tunic, the Mashiach rushes to Vernarth, takes him, and tells him secretly: floating like neutron orbit of Life and Micro Universe only to be entranced by the presence of the Messiah in his white robe of petals. Coming down with Bernese Petals strawberry trees in his white tunic, the Mashiach rushes to Vernarth, takes him, and tells him secretly:

Mashiah: "Only you..., in each one of these white cells you are..., and in those that you are not in my remembrance, it is reborn as the fruit of the Bern Olive Tree. Over the cup of this species I heard your prayer, I know who you are and gratitude for resisting this lymphoma so nobly, I took it out of your soul when it was confused with the fresh breeze of the grass that feeds the fungi of pain. Immerse yourself in this Mikveh of columns of white petals from Bern, here the voices and words of Aramaic will run in a row to the right to sip white in my thoughts of the Gospel, with your miraculous grace by returning to me John the Apostle being exiled by Domitian. Come to me walking on this unleavened bread with Bern olive elixir and let's drink Hanukkah wine and its vital dawn that boils with each sip of the glandular thymus and your sore chest in between. I am tired, I come from far away, but I have taken this road from Emmaus to lift you up. Arise and come to My Vernarth." Vernarth erects his purified column with the petals emulating the Mikve "Purification", he predisposes himself to the Holy path of the Meshuva "Return to God". So from today Vernarth is born and revives to continue his journey back to Patmos. Mashiah says: "The why of the naive deviation will **** them and the complacency of the fools will destroy them. Your own wickedness will correct you, and your apostasies will rebuke you; Know therefore and see that it is evil and bitter that you should forsake the Lord your God, and the fear of me be not in you." Vernarth says: "We will be loyal and under these leafy trees Bern I will proclaim to the north saying; that we walk towards merciful fidelity and declare all together! We know that  My Lord will heal us of our infidelity, that is why we have come here because You are our Lord God." St. John the Apostle replies: "The lion, wolf, leopard, will **** us, destroy us and tear us to pieces because transgressions and apostasies have invaded in great numbers..., my beloved Mashiach, we have already got rid of the deception and we want the Meshuva back to your ether. of the accomplice desert with the aromas of the flying weevils that the Aramaic lexicons bring us from Kafersesuh to re-graft them into the eternity of your word that crosses the entire universe. The world has sinned against you, the apostasies are innumerable, and we are here to lovingly honor your name. So my people were determined to push me away even though they call them to the Highest, none at all exalts him. I will heal his apostasy, I will love them freely because my anger has departed from them" The Garden was eclipsed by the cardinal points, it was delineated by a Cherub from South to North, for the main border that passed through the zenith where the Mashiach would order the promontory of the dependent rock of the placental rocks that coexist with the twelve inhabitants who had erected them with their eyes closed and opened by the light of Faith. The border that Vernarth and the Apostle nominally saw, was connected with the new division of the world of the stagnant word, and in the new route, it revived in a perfect cross from west to east towards the paleo trill of the Palestinian Eagles loaded with incense and sawdust from the felled Olive Tree for the furniture that they used as input in the lavish boasts of the Romans. The magnetized needle will crack the back of each of the members,"O Kýrios tha epistrépsei se mas, tis rízes tou Kósmou, ópou krémetai ta skoupídia tou" (The Lord will return to us the roots of the World, where its concrete debris hangs). Then this voice takes from the inconcrete state, aligning the excellence of the north of the Messiah, together with the iron of the blood plasma of Vernarth and the Apostle to be magnetized towards the north in the sublime magnetized cardinal. Shemesh-Sun King order of cardinal parallelism is thus established; north: north or boreal ruled by Vernarth and Saint John the Apostle, South: Meridian or Austral by Etréstles and Eurydice, East: East, rising or rising ruled by Raeder and King David West: West or West. In this way, the insects and animals, declaimed the sunrise of the Sun to the Levant before each cup of the Chalice synchronous with the intercession of the cross to the tangential of the horizontal that extends to the west when both phases of the solar cycle are aligned with the departure of the Bread and discharge of the Messiah from his time in the cloister. The Alikantus and Petrobus animals will be ruled by the Northeast and Northwest, while the flying insects will be ruled by the Southeast and Southwest.

Etymological ellipsis of Ancient Nordic Civilizations: The east-west perimeter is considered as the axis of the abscissas in a geographic coordinate system, the axis of the ordinates would be described by the north-south line, which corresponds to the axis of terrestrial rotation. This composition generates four angles of ninety degrees that in turn are divided by the bisectors generating northwest, southwest, northeast, and southeast. Thus the Rose of the Winds is demarcated by the Esquimo del Olivo flower in perfect harmony with the circumference of the horizon. This will attract the lines that intersect verbally and non-verbally, by the abscissa that delineates the guideline of the Rock of the Messiah overflowing with total generosity to shine in the caves at dawn, to sprinkle them with the rays that they lack due to the supposed static latitude. In order to parody the line of the lethality of the Norse Gods by being tangential to this new alignment of the earth axis and laterality coordination, only through the Apples of Asynjur can they hope to revive until the final destiny of the Gods. This Nordic parallelism goes back to us in the chapter Vernarth Chapter II - Animal of War in Tel Gomel, where Asgard is mentioned, which in Norse mythology is the one conceived on earth, it is a rainbow bridge, Bifrost, which connects it with the paradise. This etymology will cross the genesis of the plotline of the entire Hellenic epic in the first chapters until it is reiterated here in this Messianic epic with the demarcation of the limits in Gethsemane, that marks the guideline that intersects the exact point of the Aramean Prayer Rock for the diction of the words and cosmogonic interrelationships of cultures and the sparkling use of the atavistic language before the year 332 BC and even after, to project with the temporal line of the regressive line of parapsychology after 1820, in the Spanish Revolution of this same work. This demarcation has intertextuality in coordinates of time-history, to make this unpublished Gethsemane map the timelessness of archaic civilizations, which have applauded and venerated all cycles of life and fall under the same precept of cardinal laterality, acclaiming a God who he flowed and created the North whether he lives or agonizes, but if he wants to revive he will have to come to his threshold of quantum departure "The Garden of Gethsemane" to be projected with the timeline of the regressive line of parapsychology after 1820, in the Spanish Revolution of this same work. This demarcation has intertextuality in coordinates of time-history, to make this unpublished Gethsemane map the timelessness of archaic civilizations, which have applauded and venerated all cycles of life and fall under the same precept of cardinal laterality, acclaiming a God who he flowed and created the North whether he lives or agonizes, but if he wants to revive he will have to come to his threshold of quantum departure "The Garden of Gethsemane" to be projected with the timeline of the regressive line of parapsychology after 1820, in the Spanish Revolution of this same work. This demarcation has intertextuality in coordinates of time-history, to make this unpublished Gethsemane map the timelessness of archaic civilizations, which have applauded and venerated all cycles of life and fall under the same precept of cardinal laterality, acclaiming a God who he flowed and created the North whether he lives or agonizes, but if he wants to revive he will have to come to his threshold of quantum departure "The Garden of Gethsemane"



Gaugamela

Palace of the Camelids

The roosters of Persepolis sing again. Its disloyal resonances and deadly gloom came from seventy kilometers from the Iranian city of Shiraz, province of Fars, near the place where the Pulwar River empties into the Kur (Kyrus). The Rooster specters came mounted on the houses of the twelve Giga Camels..., recovered from the remaining six. They came to withdraw to take the path to Jaffa. The House of Camels began as preservatives of the immunity required to be in accordance with the sanitary ellipticals and adaptation to the exit of Judah. They were bound for the hemicycle of the Lepidoptera consorts united with the specter camels Giga and the Early Birds that will give the first row in the game of the Primogen, after seven weeks in Judah. Knowing that the phylogeny of Animalia is of wide versatility of this super being of the desert Animalia that will agree on the departure of all and repatriation of the hexagonal Primogen except King David who will enter the Celestial cenotaph in Jerusalem escorted by the Cherubim. From Tel Gomel came reverberations of sonorizations of the last metallic rattles of swords and howls of Macedonian infantrymen colliding with each other with their pernicious weapons. While these screams reverberate like an anvil falling at ninety degrees on hailed pieces of perspective of the Achaemenides..., their families already had to say goodbye to their family plains, since many lost their souls cracked from inhaled mutilating curses. Today a miraculous event would occur from the high sky a Dorus Hetairoi would fall that came flaming with fire. And from the northwest side, a Sarissa spear fell that intercepted in the immediate vicinity of Joshua's stone-forming neat Cross lit with the brightest star. It was nothing less than the vehement fire of Meshuva that brought with it drops of water from the Jordan with the Image of the Baptist, to make the hierarchical gravitation on the ponies of the Camels that at this point had all the dominance of the plague of the sufferings that They could cause a great impact on the twelve camels due to an endemic outbreak as a result of some leprosy in the surrounding area, causing higher contagions to those who ride them. The panorama was one of total rhetoric consonant with Tel Gomel, "Gaugamela Palace of the Camels". This paradox came to resent the reciprocity of magnificence of these camelids in the perfect analogy with Gethsemane, for this purpose to agree with the ghosts of Shiraz shortly before the great battle of Gaugamela began in 332 BC. C. equating the lands arranged before the plantar areas where these divine species continued to bring the sense of war around sensitized, converted into battering rams of mustangs crossing the auscultated portals of the Garden in an agony of interlude. Over the soft roar of Tel Gomel came maidens in white tulle with semi-cross dresses, serene and chaste from the plain of the Palace of India were the wives who married the commanders of Alexander the Great. They were from the war lineage that also came to concelebrate the farewell of the Animalia and Hexagonal Primogeniture. Today the seven miracles come together in a perfect line of the Apeiron, which of all things identifies this first principle with the "indefinite" or "unlimited." Considering that the constitutive principle of things was the Apeiron, which is neither water, nor earth, nor fire, nor air; It has no concrete form, it is infinite. The cosmos is born, develops, and perishes within that "ápeiron" in Gethsemane. This existential infinity of the beginning of the world is born from this feat in Gethsemane, affirming that only this immaterial element nor any other of the so-called elements will bring the ápeiron nature of the Garden in flames of love from which all the heavens and elements that are in them are generated in Gethsemane renewed towards the infinity of love of Joshua. Now, starting from where there is a rebirth for things, reconstructive destruction is also produced there, giving rise to needs; in fact, they pay each other by blaming and retributing for their injustice according to the disposition of time speaking of these things in rather pastoral terms, these maidens come in their feathered chariots from Sisellas of Tel Gomel for the blessed ones who club the underground of Tel Gomel and Bumodos, among cosmic rinsings of the Apeiron of the Messiah beyond its origin in the Kafersuseh (many births under a single great multivalent spirit among thousands of stables of origin and powers of Dimensional Beams, where the master lord worships from the trapeze hanging from beam to beam). The fireflies, bumblebees, bees, and wasps, resemble the profiles of the hollows and hills that were hidden before the figure of all this nascent profane world, more grandiloquent than migrating and fitting the engineering of the great beams that support the structural sky predominantly on supine and flexion. The World, after decompressing, dragged the linear orographic cords of Gethsemane, puncturing the cords of the rocks and its messianic average lithosphere, in this way it opened twisting in the inertia that toward the rock puckered a fist of guidelines that distilled in later moments and of adaptation of the inertia to adapt with the dynamics of the Aramaic emerging from the mouth of all the olive trees Bern after yawn and slime of trapped dust. Vernarth says: "With my Xiphos I will establish life beyond the burning of wounds, come worms to snack on your meat Hoplites, come now..."I am Hetairoi..." and I usually die several times over the worst pains in the jaws of ambrosia with Hestia but I do not tolerate that others suffer pain beyond my control. In the minutes that the horns of the wind besiege, the living Garden of the jailer will be freed from us, constrained to uncover the insidious and opaque sphere of solitary confinement, that deprives us of knowledge even being embarrassed about the same death and not attentive to it that blooms on the plethoric thorns of Saracen alcohol" On gigantic dimensions, the insects copulate the shadows directed on the shadows of the Giant Camels thus beginning the departure of the Aramaic Huerto converted into the new palace of the Animalia, despite contending pretense of pollen on each particle of the Mashiach's concretions now on the platform of the Palace of the Camelids and on the Holy hummus of the Garden of Gethsemane. The Apostle Saint John says: "anxious urges to go to the other side of the evocation and have to look at other tree species with water from the universe that irrigates the world in the swamp"... He appears sitting on his golden Petrobus cloud with Raeder... Raeder says: "I will go with miraculous airs and terrified of themselves of our own miracles, bathed in the water from the flow and from the head of Petrobus, we will supply water where there is none, but he has no mention, only the instinct of those who need him. I have to hang myself from his Jade Ferrules that carry his web-footed legs. Now is the time to continue at some point in the line of the twelve ungulates after these seven weeks in Judah" Eurydice intervenes: "I will get on the camels and talk with them about why the line that leads us will never separate from Gethsemane. We know that we have to return from Jaffa to Limassol to remove the Mariano gold medallion that was bathed in the bottom, and that Procorus awaits us immersed in the aroma of the Garden. I keep a crack in my heart where a Bern Olive tree grows, and that of its sprouts that are populating the houses of Skalá and the heights of Patmos" King David: "I will proclaim over the baptismal airs, and that the ghosts of Shiraz will raise Olive trees from the balusters of the avenues of Berna, to raise the props of passageways that lead to the heights of Agamemnon creating the kingdom of Mycenae in mythology that will propitiate the sovereignty of all of Argos. This was ingested all of a sudden in the triad of the Hebrew, Aramaic, and Hellenic worldview, to triumph over the excess of external knowledge that they had and will have to be kept in my cenotaph full of wandering aromatic weevils" Etréstles states: "the emanations of the Sun and progression of other suns will always be the adjective that will make us be part of every particle of land here in the Garden, Messolonghi, Limassol, Rhodes, and Patmos.

Also after this episode appears Campaspe, one of Alexander the Great's concubines. She came on behalf of all the maidens and concubines who were betrothed to their commanders in India. The beauty of this noblewoman is renowned. Campaspe says: "We were all going to be Sovereigns, but the face of expiration was always in front of the Commanders of Alexander the Great. The outfits we wore were only black and had scents from Palacios de Gaugamela. The cold that is born from another leads me to possess those of others that are not the ones that bring me here. I was given into the hands of a painter who portrayed me but the true meaning of the warm mustard lands of Gaugamela is in the heat of the wasteful pleasure of the solitude of spaces, there is no greater striking and curative good than the one that has come from Vernarth to Tel Gomel, paraphrasing the sensuality and sadness that continues to manifest here in the hovering hoofed hands of the ghosts of Shiraz, bringing to greater confusion to unite all the forces of the world for all the blood that has not been emancipated or renamed" The gray mist of the Garden on gum resin mourns, the insects moan the test of the triangulated pollen that Campaspe disseminates in its nascent genome, and the twelve camels begin to turn on themselves along with their insulting long and prolonged snores. The hillsides snort in procreation in the whistles of the fresh air disputing the attire of the Bern Olive Trees that ebb from the elongated bands of their white dresses *******. The Mashiach was leaving between the gray strips of naked nubiles. The weevils followed him out of the caves of the previous character of Golgotha, and the Lepidoptera emitted voices in ancient Aramaic similar to the event of Bethany in the hands of Lazarus contracted to immortalities in the shreds of his shroud turning green in the hardened olives in an epitaph never chanted. Gethsemane became a mezzanine scale of Persian architecture, but of a channel of the affront of a high premium measure, Mashiach in each of the four wings of the Lepidoptera and Cherubim, frolicking in the emulsion of the phrases exuded by the aerial rounds of the insects that were compressing the new cycle of language, together with the candle overflowing with pearlescent matches running through the thin flannels of the Mashiach's farewell together with the foamy secretion of the Olive Tree and with the dominant beam of Kafersesuh. Vernarth and the Apostle close their eyes already mounted on the camelids, they take a slow walk on the mezzanine that suggested walking through rocks and desert lands. Everyone was already mounted on each of the Giga camels, leaving Gethsemane flooded with insects, birds, and blades, clouds of Pollen over the fumaroles of the quantum.



Paraps  ***

Ghosts from Shiraz to Jaffa

VII part -Mashiach of Judah Miracle VIII

They leave Jerusalem with the mountebanks of Shiraz, they were ghosts of the plectrum, the wine, the roses, and the fireflies sleight the path of the twelve camels until the intersection with the Cenotaph where King David will stay with the Cherubs of Kafersesuh. They were Epi ghosts that basked in the footsteps of the camelids. They went in the cessations of the bent nails and plants of the areas of the marquee of the other four ghosts that accompanied him. They were tightrope walkers with water wheels of wheel balances with tutelary ropes, some with a stilt of opprobrium from the monetary wealth of Judas Iscariot and the last propelled by a caper that governed all the others on the wings of the Fireflies. Removed from the road that leads to the Kidron valley falls on them all two thousand five hundred years with clay tablets from Persepolis, they were phonetized with the plaintive nightmare of the tortuous poem of Tirazis; which is currently Shiraz in this way these ghosts escorted the Hexagonal Primogen, they were exiled from their ghostly cities for not paying the tribute of obedience to destroy and rebuild. When they began to be with them in the cove, the acrobat ghosts were seething with the desire to prevent everyone from being saddened by the party from the orchard that was falling further and further behind their footsteps, dancing with their pirouettes along the way, telling little stories in their ears. of the travelers. which is currently Shiraz in this way these ghosts escorted the Hexagonal Primogen, they were exiled from their ghostly cities for not paying the tribute of obedience to destroy and rebuild. When they began to be with them in the cove, the acrobat ghosts were seething with the desire to prevent everyone from being saddened by the party from the orchard that was falling further and further behind their footsteps, dancing with their pirouettes along the way, telling little stories in their ears. of the travelers. which is currently Shiraz in this way these ghosts escorted the Hexagonal Primogen, they were exiled from their ghostly cities for not paying the tribute of obedience to destroy and rebuild. When they began to be with them in the cove, the acrobat ghosts were seething with the desire to prevent everyone from being saddened by the party from the orchard that was falling further and further behind their footsteps, dancing with their pirouettes along the way, telling little stories in their ears. of the travelers.

Hydro Saltimbanqui: "I come from Roknabad (also known as Aub-e Rokní), an underground canal that brings spring water to the city from a mountain ten kilometers northeast of Shiraz. Here I have to mend propellers and water ropes to do my acrobatics on the water with general songs from the poems of the Poet Hafiz. When we bite our tongues we repair it with the verses of Hafiz's Koran, there are three hundred creeds, three hundred hectares to irrigate with my wheel the sadness of those who cannot have the gifts of the rivalry of Black Mount and White Mount to overestimate the vividness of the caravan that trembles with uncertain doubts on the way to Jaffa" Saltimbanqui de Báscula utters: "We are Epi ghosts, greened in reverie with tutelary ropes to jump through the trapeze of photometric units of the heavy Almería of the highest Mirror of the Sea. Here we look from the same that will be boarded on the barge that will take them back to Limassol. Curiously, the same ship from Lepanto that sleeps in the swaying of the sea and arms of Anaximander in a new awakening from the lethargy of superstring theorizing, here is the intrinsic speculation of science since this is not only purely empirical research." Anaximander says: "First..., we do not have the agreement that string theory is not ultimately correct and in the future in some verifiable way. Second, we propose a purpose of the order of string theory that is necessary for science and its importance going even beyond the scientific to also project on the metaphysical and the religious, right here in this order of greater what to do attached to the string that leads me to Patmos. Saltimabanqui de Báscula responds: "metaphysical and religious legitimacy, here we are making knots in the tow rope that will inaugurate a new masonry in the verifiable futuristic gaze. Here is the original fiction of continuing to raise the necks of the ants above our optics. We will jump over these two ropes but we will fall on intervals of physical placental caves that were born from the neo-embryo in the Twelve Caves of Gethsemane in a late primordial germinal process. The micro phonetic vibrations will have to raise us above the hunger to continue and leave King David in his cenotaph gored on his hips by the Cherubim marking his holy horns that are confused by the blunting of the cuneiform scratches of his epigram. Between theoretical magic and exotically as associativity of substance causally of poetic song and multiverse, believing in the ghosts of Shiraz, such dreams injected to sublimate Aeneids that lamented in the stones of the bottom, even being independent of their material origin. Multi universes, multi paraphrase for those who have to adorn the word "Rosa with the noble long dress of him to the cliff of Ebdara when Vernarth acclaims his brother Etréstles, he comes with the Charioteer from Messolonghi. Rested and resolved to head for Tel Gomel, He comes with his horse Kanti to keep him company on this crusade. Kanti braved the Cliffs of Crete, and was subservient to Markos Botsaris, 1821 (Royal Hero of the Liberation of Greece in the Turkish Invasion, Koumeterium Messolonghi-Xlibris USA), until in the afternoon he approached from a herd of beautiful stallions to the. This was heard by Etréstles and he seized His horse to have more than a Life from His company, more than a lost lost aroma of His natural mother to reach the indicated one who treasures it". The ghosts attribute quantitative passages before leaving King David, and then proceeding to Jaffa and getting ahead of the ship back to Cyprus; Limassol. They were all hyperkinetic bowls leveraged by the terrain that went on the **** of the histrionic mountebank presaging contours of the temporary filigree that each one made them smile at the carriage with oxidizing wheels, still being immaterial beings but alive in their vapors of portent wading the serous bile that they emerged from the glasses in their allegories. They did not stop their footsteps or their phonetic figures undulating over the caravan that had already passed Jerusalem. The areas, volumes, and lengths were fully covered by the Ghosts of Shiraz, the mountebanks ran along the banks of Ramallah and it was winter, the city received them with winds and inclement weather from the southwest alternating with cold and dry winds from the northeast. The mountebanks went like master geometers to condone the fuss of the caravan by devising a dodexagesimal system. (Twelve Centuries of Ultra Nocturnal Geometry, and Shipwrecks in the Lighthouse of Alexandria).Positioning the number 12 as a base, to measure the times and angles that they needed to avoid the voluminous rains that lashed the caravan. Incredibly, the volumetric position of the plantar legs of the camels seemed like wheels that turned without stopping at any anti-circumferential radius, turning some clouds into a wicket that enclosed them like a quadrilateral of the flock of God in the high semicircle of the waters that pretended to fall as axiomatic staffs in the beard of Euclid tempering his elemental construction. The linear position of each of those who were mounted was a perfect ergonometric based on the Muladhara pressing four purple petals on pressing Vernarth's Achilles heel that was dimensioning the triangulation of Ramallah with the lichens that were housed in his sword Xiphos at the apex jet that carried the dodexagesimal cartography. In the same position, it seemed the Apostle Saint John carried the rosary in his left hand in geometry that stretched across his nose and feet in a thirsty adonis triangle of one hundred and twenty degrees of the sextant widening his spectrum to align with this Primogen. This is how the stars and planets are positioned in celestial spheres with the gravitation of the Olivos Bern revolutionizing curved and flat equations that intuited to go beyond the crossed pirouettes that the mountebanks did all along the road, even further than those on the withered oil road purposely unquestionable systems that the Ghosts of Shiraz intended to establish. Ghosts of Shiraz; These Persian Epi ghosts started from the axiom and ideal abstract entities relating models of austerity and lyricism that fluctuated in the lines and planes of movement of the clouds, with the counterpoint of the plantars of the Gigas leaving marks in the sand like Morse point, Vernarth diluted his bones to settle them near the tarsus and accommodate it at the end of the vertebra of the Muladhara (Chakra of 4 petals) making a sub-technical geometric function to preserve the plasmas of darkness that were also diluted to arrive at night near Jaffa in the surroundings of the isometric fire existing in each one and in two dimensions..., but being born from a common one. Raeder and Petrobus had their rims floating full of dusty and dense mania on their faces with rubber from shards that had been released from one of the stunts of one of the mountebanks when colliding with the basic postulates of the Ghosts of Shiraz, deducting spaces that undulated like snakes. within the isometric fire that dazzled them with white-hot humor of the last drops of the Shemesh codifying in absolute intuitive measure, more distant from any dimension that is Consciousness destroying planes and spaces that multiplied each other as members of another geometric conscious dimension. Arriving at the Ben Shemen crossing, everyone suffers collective hypnosis, the ghosts manage to embodied in each of the components of the Birthright but omit a great factor. They relegated the Hexagonality of the genetics of this caravan, the ghosts not knowing how to calculate the area once they were being intracorporeal within the members, thus having to leave before the last dislocated Shemesh ray threw the ashes of the Gehenna, for this supposed reason of leaving them condemned to recycle the human species for the purpose of reproducing sacred human beings, but being servile to whims beyond the immortality of the miscalculation that led them to Karim Khan's citadel, surprised with their image of thick stone walls and circular towers in the heart of Shiraz. This gave them a warrior aspect contrary to their fame and history: this was a city famous for two thousand years for its culture, with its gardens and its poets, now if in a plot by this beautiful odalisque trick that attracted the guide of the ecstatic and bilocated ghosts, in a bad moment of extradition towards a bad context of epi ghosts not yet defined in foci of apprentices boasting of laurels of weak and doubtful ideas that still swarmed within his white heart, trying to reach Vernarth's as a former Hetairoi commander, today turned into mystical servile. In such a way they are complicated as "Sufi" ghosts, being, in reality, the genetic spectrum of the double ax that carries the double-cut of today..., of the sacrament of Medea in Abdera. Pro says a ghost from Shiraz (embarrassed): "The Universe is a sea that longs for dry shores, without sea, and without other wet longings..., no possible maiden could Try to dry it with her hands of stars... Who calms the crying of the Universe ...even so..., a simile remains floating like a verse among his dreams" "How can I make of my dreams another dimension of the universe if he is silent and does not make me float in his sea...how can I make it possible for the points of his stars to fill the spaces that have revealed him...and that have made circular shores without a sea between fogs" "I walk alone and nobody sees me... I do not wake up in candles that smile and accompany me... between days that turn into mornings on the shores of the solitude of the universe, that nobody embraces him..." "Now the days tremble with almost falling on themselves, they come out alive from their own loneliness of satiety and fullness... of whoever appreciates them in the mist... being able to surrender in attentions in Ben Shemen".

Creating a sequence that bends the heads of the ghosts filling translucent physiognomies between a cold past and super frozen future, from a classic mechanic that from now on would depend on dice thrown by the Third Ghost of time. Here a relativism would be opened to those who want to see the past in the orchard in an unstable particulate present, leaving far from the splitting of both parts of the archetype of today as a subdivided clash of several times that allowed the remaining phantasmagorical specters to be integrated, taking over history on a plural axial axis that prevailed in the time of a supposed number line from a vector aligning itself towards the compass of distance, that shines between both hemispheres of the north and of the minutes that go to the right and the solid-gaseous seconds that almost burst in the walls of their own liberated beings. The four Shiraz ghosts had time differentials before this event with the caravan verifying the simultaneous strut between the two pairs of ghosts between four dissimilar but idyllic ones that made them here at this point be ignored and annulled between two relative nomenclatures of physical structure. The durability and classification of these micro-times of the epi-ghosts would make the database that Saint John the Apostle and Vernarth will accumulate with their eyes closed, each surpassing himself in the debatable areas that concern estimating the occupation of physical spaces in some of them at their consent so that one of them could embark to Limassol. This simultaneous and relativistic multi-active line encloses events and quadratures of spaces in the cinematographic space of parapsychological regression, such a link of physical images slowed down in evolutionary and cognitive memory, passing from the conduit of memorizing events to expectations and their set of absolute figures not pigeonholed but if approaching the universe in prehensile scales of those who value them. present and future more as a pattern of departure to the unique future "today" by space of spaces. This unified three-dimensionality would mark the mathematical space of the attempts towards the future of the adjoining camelids of the ghosts of Shiraz for ownership of time among all with a single identity that cries out for an unequivocal will to rearm, although the winds of the partition that separates The word of God and the believing observer towards the ***** with a believer from a historical past in obscurantism, leaving and entering a new world whose notion is to spend connected and handcuffed in dependent systematization with great causes, although the static feels isolated from the dynamic, asking it to unite with the ghosts and the others, even though they are inferior forces under the line of the generous gaze and parallelisms of the attentive viewer that suggests more openness received, delegating circumstances to all physical, emotional, spectral dimensions and mental-spiritual, flexing the hierarchical emotional states of night and day. They all fall asleep embraced in quilts and lamb saddlebags, making it possible for them to approach the Ghosts and sleep next to them, embracing each other with strength decanted from some frames that hang from their masks, showing the vibration of being favorite children of the Mashiach, absorbed in the Kidron Valley. Quadrupled and cloistered in self-consciousness scattered like an iceberg behind the submissive thoughts that aspire to be tied to more invaluable time. Our Abba has us more tied to an absolutist past and future, looking at his calendar divided in such a way that the day that strikes the shadows of an incisive past always fits so that it always smiles at us in the best light signal of who and with whom repair damage of varied wounds that travel through the times of times always hurt, to and from borders of a remote anachronistic. The ghosts are always tetra fast they are marginalized to the sound of greater acuity, fleeing in Rishon Lezion to wake up a little further from the rays of the stationary Sun that from now on always surfaced in the degraded eyes of the mountebank prowling around the fairs of those who know how to wait, to make a treat under the pretext of Faith and hope that exempts the Cardinal turned into a flower decorated in white. Shvil of the Angels; The fast epi phantom tetras were emaciated they lost their north and could not walk, they were energized by the radiosities of the earth that rules over those who lent divine graces if their feet rested on the tapestry of those who threw their footsteps at them in winter now near Jaffa. The Shvil Angels were angels who were on the route that cordons off the pilgrimage of Vernarth and Saint John the Apostle, they were full of flowery Bernese Olive Trees that served as floral arcades at the entrance to this thousand-year-old port. They were three, when they walked, they always spread out so fast that they seemed to be six but they ended up averaging the quantum of three for each of the components of the Birthright, which from today would be the great circumcision event of the Universe, to make it part of that one day they will have to dissipate the rhombuses of the fragmented beams of light on the way to the sky so high, in the name of the phrases that never tire of looking eternally at the incautious years, which belong to our father through Exo galaxies in the total company of invisibility and cautious time relativity. This beautiful Semitic sea shore indicates and invites us to reach its salty Hebrew waters of Yofi, reinforcing the phonetics that runs madly through the border hills with their hearts in their hands when foreigners appear in the name of plausive phylogeny. That brings them a bearable piece of the farmhouse from the Universal flood, for this is that the ancient Canaanites have to receive them with the table served to entertain them with winter flowers in Jaffa. The Hellenistic tradition relates the name to Iopeia, which is Cassiopeia herself, mother of Andromeda. After Pliny the Elder the name is connected with Joppa who was the daughter of ******, god of the wind. Where Vernarth locked his shield Áspis Skoilé to shine in the bilges of the Eurydice under the pentagons of his shield's bronze layer whenever he approached the Dodecanese when the Auriga descended from Andromeda on the back of an oarsman battered by storms away from his home galaxy. Thousands of years BC its merchants glorified themselves with their baskets full of goods and merchandise for its inhabitants who today pretended to be pharaohs who contributed to the marine corners along the coast that today seemed to open with more new waters reborn from the capers of the swells founding thus the omens of embarking to attack and submit to the omens of sovereignty between Judah and Hellenic lands, to work with noble trees in their armories and utensils of which they traversed an honorable part after the maintenance of the emblem of the last portion of Alexander's libertarian triumph pole Magnus on the Phoenicians at Tyre. gazelle) in Joppa (Jaffa) and later how near this city he has a vision in which Yahveh told him that one should not distinguish between Jews and Gentiles while ordering the removal of ritual food restrictions (kosher) followed by the Jews. The Shvil of the angels distanced themselves from the appetite of this station without reaching them and not making them drink salt water from Jaffa, so they resorted to Petrobus, which a few meters before reaching the port summoned a large number of Dodecanese Pelicans who were waiting for them in great celestial flocks that hovered happily over the sky welcoming them. The pelicans levitate from a risky juggling act on the caravan and headed out to sea collecting saltwater, then they went through the initiatory path of Shvil and reconvert the salty water into sweet with hazelnuts so that they would have holy water to insolate it and serve it in canteens of the temple guards of the Canaanites who were waiting for them to distract them, making them believe that they were other Syriac lands as in those of Asherah that in this act perhaps it would be good for them to sponsor the Hexagonal Primogeniture. But the trails of angels confederated before the noisy crowds and Ptolemaic lemurs that scrambled into the empty spaces that remained. After this grave siege, Vernarth shouted to heaven with the force of Phalangist tradition himself, and hailed heaven for the good of freeing them from their definitive income to Jaffa summoning the Hypastists; elite warriors, and spearmen so that they would hem the portal at her Jaffa entrance for others who were never from nowhere and out of nowhere, only blocking her from her perfect theological heritage and memorial conservation plan upon return from Judah exit, to embark with destiny through the sulfurous ponto that will scald them in temporary waters towards the Cyclades and then to the Dodecanese, succeeding in inhabiting them wherever they were and whoever arrived with foreign promise. At nightfall in its first nubile shadows, the Shvil appears to them with these three angels dressed in ivory white, each one with a book in each hand and in the other a candelabrum giving signs of ultra-interpretive catechesis, allying itself with silica in combination behind the vision of the charms of propagated knowledge. Earth and sky in the second angel washing off the Semitic dew of Jaffa anguished with teachings of sleeping well and waking up, to walk in the lands that wish to seize the senses of those who are called not to be oppressed, behind bars of the morbid and illiterate Panavision of angles of hasty entertainment of the angels when they were called by the Regent Angel, simply relaying information easy to take to their hearts in faint powers and paradisiacal punishments, before falling into a thorny forest plowing their tongues into furrows of afflicted human charges and then earnestly redeem them with the judicious power of Hashem. Vernarth agonizes over the matter of seeing them so tender and so fragile allowing her to gently row towards him. Finally, these three rules of the Shvil Hanael are presented; "talking to them about hindrances stuck in the literary cabal of grateful fulfillments for all". Vernarth alludes to a desensitized subject and is also far from any Sub Yogic disciplinary doctrine. This led him to stand behind San Juan, frightened protecting himself from everything around him, he was seeing in front of the upper left side that Zebedee was, San Juan's own father calling him! Saint John the Apostle says: "Justice allows us at this time to alleviate ignorance if the riddles allow us to only seek the answer, Hashem will not be here..., it will only be an emotional catharsis due to a Shivil or merely ideological passage, which moves our prayers without sense taking us definitively to the coffers that are rearmed one after one after the mistake. We are faithfully interpreted by them but we detest our regencies with the Eschaton when we all try to follow its light of resounding density towards the sky, prophesying to follow it without getting lost in It..., held on its glossary shoulder. On the claws that are released from the dazed angelic prey correcting its wavering vision, unraveling the living presence of damnations or salvations in Eden with your bare feet or hell with no departure time "Inexplicably some Praetorian soldiers of Domitian appear, who would be restricting the departure of the triacontero bound for Limassol, curiously they were the same ghosts of Shiraz that continued to represent such a bad event, just like when he was expelled to Patmos by Domitian in 95 BC, of size was the hubbub produced by the Shvil angels with impracticable ideologies, who opposed such spectral imagery, in such a way that they replaced their figure with that of another fellow Hellenic who wanted to embark for Patmos, the other members were fully incorporated into the ship that cavorted on pirouettes as it carried them proudly to a new ocean. Around the last drops that jumped in Jaffa on the coastal rocks, others appeared when the last divided and scattered drops were going to shine the navigation temples, thus it is possible to board the same ship that brought them from the beginning of arrival from Limassol to Judah, which transited from Lepanto. They reappear in the plenipotentiary chapel offering a ceremony that would return the messianic hindrance to the Angels of Shiraz, to return to their former positions within the itineraries of biblical characters that tend to become adulterated in the game of the loss of consciousness of the Escaton, probably requiring that everyone has to make pilgrimage routes for all humanity confined and liberated by themselves. The Saltimbanqui finally manage to jump on the boat to sail to the Dodecanese but the Shvil of the Angels remained where other celebrities will require them to redirect them to the Shvil Escaton.



Paraps XXXI

Second Hijra to Patmos

VIII part -Judah's conclusion

What can be perceived by the Universe of Judah would be in a Universal Eye of photochemistry within the phosphorescence of the spectrum of the Jaffa bay that magnetized the visible sprinkling electricity, within the visible field of the photon in the same bay, which is responsible for elementary particle guarantor of quantum manifestations of the electromagnetic phenomenon. Carrying electromagnetic radiation of gamma rays over the entire atmosphere of Jaffa, X-rays, ultraviolet light, visible light, infrared light, microwaves, and radio waves, causing the ellipsis of Radio Moscow on October 29, 1929, right there presenting itself from the future to the present before hijra to Patmos.

Ellipsis Radio Moscow 1929 – Parapsychological Radio Regression:

"Radio Moscow went on the air on October 29, 1929. And this, its first broadcast in a foreign language, would be in Greek to be heard by everyone in Jaffa. Radio Moscow bulletins expressed great unease over the recent rise to power of the dictator Adolf ****** in Germany during the 1930s. An unintelligible visionary fumble of daphnomancy was considered, predicting the persecution of the Hebrews and extermination of themselves for which Saint John Apostle immediately tuned in common with Vernarth the instant he was hit by this radio wave of number twenty, nine of Jaffa's exit edict. The visible fantasy of this would make the audio listeners uncomfortable towards the behavior of certain intermittent swings that made the natural light of Jaffa intermingled with luminescence, with the waves and photons in presumptuous duality to dominate Vernarth's behavior when invaded by this flash of prophetic invasion. The Apostle's observation spheres made it faster to climb and try to sustain this invasive radio wave that crossed time thousands of years from the year 1929 to the year 165 AD. C. approximately that it traveled with a great speed of infinite wave to a great percentage of microseconds. All this information alerted the native son of Capernaum, worrying too much about this ethnopolitical situation. Here the microwave was refracted, undergoing a change in direction that collided with the ship, in its floating basal portion, due to the fact that this wave propagated at different speeds considering that the medium in which they were moving was clearly wood, but propelled by a large transmission vehicle through the winding water to the massive hull. Doing and plotting what would make them move immediately to go to Cyprus; Limassol. The speed of the radial wave was parked on the sails and that of the hull due to the chromatics of the water that lightened its refraction through the facets of the sails, and the cap bizarrely acted as an exponential concave angle propeller motor and overheated. A quick brawling radio wave appears in Vernarth's tongue; Says Vernarth: "Anti-Semitism is a matter of ******* benefiting from slavery and vast insubstantial ethnic resources, not allowing to relate the advance of ancient and primitive civil social immigrations that migrate to sociopolitical statuses, already pampered since their arrival in the Rhineland during the Roman Empire. The Jewish community prospered until the end of the 11th century after the First Crusade, having to go through a long stormy period marked by massacres, accusations of ritual crimes, various extortion, and expulsions. Their legal status was degraded and Jews were prohibited from exercising most trades. In the 18th century, Enlightenment philosophers such as Moses Mendelssohn were outraged by this miserable condition and launched a campaign to denounce it. However, the road that led them to Emancipation was long and lasted nearly a century, after which the Jewish community was integrated into society. Their assimilation allowed an economic and intellectual success that aroused suspicion in certain sectors, also giving rise to anti-Semitism with the coming to power of Adolf ******'s oligarch in 1933, putting the Jews on the margin of German society. Extensive persecution was followed by deportation and then extermination during World War II. After the war, the Jewish community slowly reconstituted itself thanks to the support of the German federal government." This time enchanting with lamb's blood coined on its cornices to sprout them for all those who had to endure the enigma of departure towards the straight desert as a property of the radio waves exhibited here as a dogmatic whole dusting in the geometric regime, which testifies to a whole "That the Robe of the Savior shakes all the structures of critical-political thought and brilliance of race." Producing objective intellectual blood, which would join the Social Christian party in Germany in 1930. But every elementary thesis would promulgate the emphasis on the centrality of social democracy, of bringing to Patmos a great task of dividing by time by traversing the timeline providing Joshua's solid One-Dimensional Beams at Kafersesuh, for the protectorate of the holocaust and sacrifice and introduce premises of emancipation and abolition of the subterfuge of marginalized social fields, devoid of interethnic social guarantees and the heel of Semitic roots. This natural property is excepted by the breed of San Juan Apóstol; Zebedee's son consists of carrying this to the most informative substantiality up to Patmos to keep them organized. From this dialectical propagation, great shadows arose, interposing opacities that showed many Jews falling into concentration camps at the exact moment of expropriation of their real estate. Naked bodies can be seen only with dark shadows with small signs of imperturbability on their cut faces, staying in the gloom of Conviction, with some photos of their children in relative proximity to the deadly impression of last death rattles and undermined fading pointed expressions, appearing in the rictus of their wives with narrow condemnatory anguish falling on them from the same Cell of the stormy Escaton, that transcended under semiotic history; the resurrection of the dead, divine judgment, heaven and eternal happiness with God or damnation and hell. Here is a perfect archetypal case of the disconcerting radio wave pouring novelty and satisfaction before the curiosity of the listeners, but it was a "newest Revelation at the same time, being objectivity for the cell of San Juan and for the immanent protectorate", which designates the dimension mundane and temporal opposed to transcendence. Because many Christians have become incapable of conceiving the "other world" as a consistent, real reality, and have transferred to this world the hope of a full and happy life. In this "immanentization" evangelical theologies of prosperity incur both, which see in the Christian faith as the means to achieve material well-being, Vernarth closes a blind when they were already walking on the magnetized corvettes of the sea, without feeling how the sea besieged them,...saying himself: "I keep looking through the hole of my ignorance, and I manage to see the dictators in monochrome displaying their diffraction banners lights, a key to ethnic oppression "in black and white" and the turned ones going through the crack in the trails of the Hebrews with their suitcases and belongings, lost and surrendering to laments united to the Messiah. In holistic combined, centered to the extent of a third screen produced in alternative light and dark bands, in the Lepanto nave when everyone learned vox populi about the radio phenomenon in non-transistorized tubes in frank romance with the old age of their practices. End Ellipsis Radial Radio Moscow. The phenomenon of interferences of a natural nature continues, bringing joy to their ruined hearts, they all sang Christian songs that made vertical lines appear on their faces between both melted cheeks. Leaving them incidence of fasting light to signal as thrones of lighthouses that illuminate the skies of the Messiah's seas, putting themselves before them millions of light-years from the side that now they could see him. The angles disperse and affect the light of the Messiah of the Our Father at twilight, falling on the others like the same conclusive Gethsemane leaf of the Bern Olive Tree. Flowing the light on the matter that sheltered the ship to Limassol, industrial energy was constituted in all the directions of the superficial optics, generating reflections in weak interferences that oscillated like immobile remnants of radio waves still active. This phenomenon made Brisehal appear from the bottom of the sea; the giant of Dasht-e-Lut, approaching to protect Vernarth and the Hexagonal Birthright. Generating a dynamic global hetero internal light in the navigation radius of the ship, in a more parsimonious speed than in a more relative one, frustrated to try to synchronize the flashes of the Xiphos sword of Vertnath Hoplite that allowed him to use it as a sextant, to arrive at the Cypriot destination. In this void of energy by another replaced, a speed imprint of the same void arises with lengths of movement of underwater waves caused by the giant Brisehal, to displace them in washings of the Adonis in accordance with the Sword of their master Vernarth ephebe. Dispersing evaporated droplets from the desert of Dash-e-Lut that remained in the cloacal zones of his ears polarizing defensive crystals from the hyperactive environment, and in force of the Phalangists scourged in Gaugamela who still writhed on the diaphanous immaterial land that continued in heated conflict, until the coexistence of the oppressor ceases. The parallel rotated worlds follow each other unrotated, being disturbed in another dimension mediated by the aware consciousness, which lacks any neutral rationality. They would be only attempts going through crystals of the Faith..., mastering projectile salutes of malevolent brotherhood, immersed in a maximum intensity of breakage and crystalloid rupture, which flows from the Messiah's lens in angles of subaquatic darkness. All of this atmosphere self-absorbs, leaving divine rabbi light tele-transferred into stored energy reaction levels, whose capacity would exceed one billion cubic meters due to the rupture between the chemical bonds caused by radiant energy, dissociating molecules by the effect of sublime light from serious sounds of immanence, and redefining itself as the interaction between one or more cells of mass of light against a molecule nomad target. Also appropriate for the extreme radicalization that marine plants would suffer, which also sailed expelled from the disturbed radical seabed of Jaffa.



Hellenic Existential Hypnosis

Arriving at the central retention of the Aegean Sea between parallels 36-38 of latitude and meridians 24-26 of longitude belonging to the periphery of the South Aegean, an abduction of an amnesic trace of the Alexandrian magnetic period occurs, which made them realize the that they had deviated from the Limassol-Cyprus destination, having to turn degrees to redirect to Limassol. This was exercised and subdued by the Alexandrian period that in its immanent chronology sought to remake an existentialist stance, which descended from the limits chained by the depressive effect of the aura after their death of his sister Cleopatra. This whitish aristocratic parapet of Zeus invaded them not auditing to govern the schizophrenic supply, having to redirect the course to the other side of the Cyclades. Sovereignly Vernarth takes the helm with great Greek breath, creating shields of redemption in arts and sciences of the Hetairoi aristocracy, under meso-urban science-politics replaced by Christian devotion, making the Hellenic language a romantic Aramaic in the potential to prevail the existentialism of the hypnotizing oneiric dream of a silly banquet served by the hordes in all the slopes that transported them between the enigmatic underworld of Panhellenic language, and with re culturization of ephemeral uncrossed lines that subtracted their dramas of disturbing knowledge depriving them of the neuro-motor and adjective of the main return value for the origin of the reconquest of the Triacontero in Limassol. This Hypnosis brought consequences of the Leagues called Diádochos 'successors' of the ancient generals of Alexander the Great, and of the sons of the general hegemons (called epigones,) that at the unexpected death of Alexander the Great in 323 a. C. distributed their empire, disputing power and hegemony over their brothers with various pacts and six wars that lasted twenty years. A political system was then established until the start of the Roman Empire in the eastern Mediterranean in the early 2nd century BC. C. Prone to this contingency, Vernarth turns to Hypnos and one of the thousand children he had with Pasítea, who urged them to cohesion this Hellenic Inertia, quantitatively making the immortality of the image of Alexander the Great to bring each of the ex faithful commanders thus refounding Vernarth his Hellenistic Encyclical, for the purpose of escorting them to Limassol and protecting the lineages and infants who were in their puberty in Greece asleep soon to be an Agoge, after great war campaigns and abandoned agreements as an example of the snowy lineage in his Mother Olympia, and Sister Thessaloniki and children waiting passionately for him. And also in the Empire of Sudpichi-Chile, Luccica with the court of her familiar stoic resistance ingests the opiates until her Vernarth takes her in those arms, from her own and imaginative marshland lagoon gathered at the Itheoi Gods. The disintegration of Macedonia and Greece into subregions catapulted again the appearance of Clovis who says...: the river Lethe in the underworld liquefies your memories, and cleanses your mind permanently. That is the branch of a poplar tree from the underworld, from my father Hypnos. "Lete is not a place where you want to go swimming... but if you change the rudder for your honorable mind". This achieves that one of the sons, among thousands of Pasítea, committed himself to Clovis, to dissipate this existentialist contingency, claiming the appeal of family reunion and imperishable Hellenic constituent ancestry, under the hypnotic and hegemonic phenomenon that polished banners and panoplies in Greece, Macedonia, and Asia Minor. As a subsidiary exception, they will satisfy what was reissued by Ptolemy, one of Alexander's childhood companions of whom some authors venture to say that he was the illegitimate son of Philip II. He wisely quickly seized Egypt and hastened to create an enduring state by declining imperial ambitions that he considered unrealistic. He was one of the main opponents of the imperial cause thus becoming one of the founders of the Hellenistic world. Unusually, the commanders of Alexander incontinent to his excessive dipsomania of glorious hierarchical power, demystified Hetairoi's harangue, generating in it a Hypnotic counter-conception, making these sedative steps to delegate the religious Vóreios Dei..., which had only known how to redirect itself later in the classic tonnage Gaugamela of his great Hoplite Commander Vernarth. This grayish super mass of uncontrolled winds and increased lightning proto idolatrous forms salivated in the same Hellenistic family, whose postulate was to multiply the family over its geopolitical dominations in other nations, unifying them as a family geo-clan rather than in the seas that do not divide the water-land, Rather, they unite moralistic and cultural hydro-parental resources of the world that is a concomitant part of "The devouring cyclone of mythological dignitary entities, and other races that flee from the honest chronogram of historicity and its reconstructive past-present." Square meters of great cyclops mouths were floating in the air, it inspired Vernarth to make the green grass of the sea reborn like plankton that made a compulsive propensity to exalt Chloé's presence; being an Epi Phantom that always sparkled among the nebulosity as a reserve of Universal Consciousness, geo-measuring the Hellenic consciousness with a black bandage over his eyes, so as not to sully more sprouts of green chlorophyll and photochemical mass of the phenomenon, amassing only Cyclops electrogenic beasts that had to burn on the bolts and runaway embers of dissident light to leave in some memorable way, or beg some Sanctus to do his bidding wandering into acquiring the square feet of tiny, almost unidentifiable beasts that appeared simulating the viscous green water of the river Lethe in the contracted underworld. The existential holistic in the ship produced depressive lags, lack of self-esteem, and factors of loss of the ego, therefore each one who pointed with his index, distended from some silos in the hands of opiates that would denigrate the oneiric in those who tried to flee from their own collective weeds..., fleeing from himself, stagnating and freezing in stretches of dreams of gross loneliness and indelible fantasy..., what the extravagant hypnosis sought to occupy in them with its decrees of mortality is a beyond adulterated in some benevolent indications and psychic reactive alertness. When the soft brilliance of the same flash was shown on the faces of Alexander the Great and Vernarth in the six wars that took place with the Diadocos without flashes for twenty years..., only in twenty seconds would Alexander the Great appear on the deck of the Lepanto ship, dressed in a crimson red costume, covering his Hellenic silhouette up to his allegorical half-torso. From here he urged them to culminate the hypnosis in a deep world in an unbreathable statue of colloquial rhapsody..., pay attention to this... everything continues normally, and Vernarth leaves the helm to honor him with a hoplite Khaire and as a congener of Christian Shvil, so philanthropic and deferential as was Ptolemy, and Vernarth himself in Tel Gomel and Bumodos herding greenish glosses to open them towards the new Magno-theological empire. Metaphysical of the profile of the wise dervish that appeared in Limassol as a sapphire rosary entangling itself in physiognomies and rises of hope in the average Gen, when approaching the latent peninsula of Eurydice's gold medallion. Judah was suspended in the Giant Ungulates munching on the bags of herbs that thickened in their Palestinian snouts, the sphinxes of the birds continued to grow with their wings to shelter blasphemies from their prophets, and Judah wailing in the intraosseous of those who traveled leaving Judah, but never departing from the Aramaic cells of Gethsemane lost from Hellenic Existential Hypnosis.

Vas Auric conceived himself judicious before Spílaiaus when observing that Vernarth was leaning towards a practical meeting of a feared Hellenic crisis based on omnipresence, and all the material-immaterial face that is bloodily arranged in ****** foundations stipulating its very Submythological constitution. All that was a trend within the similar horizon that should be imposed with the appearance of Wonthelimar; as a direct seer of practice continuing the pre-ontological process, and why not say it of someone who does not even think and totally excludes himself from its composition or being part of... rather being a ration of the subjective segment and correction similar to the god Spilaiaus articulating its dynamism under the predominance of the concept of the sapphic verse where it puts knowledge at risk, and speculate on each component of the Itheoi gods, possessing themselves within the torrent of theology under ethical evaluation, differing from the mythical leitmotif, as dissipator of contention and beings that think organically of the material ethereal substrate. Vernarth silently concurs and prepares to postulate the anti-ethical Submythological existence; tending to demystify their Ethos or Conduct, aspiring to envision structures of undervaluation of the same, and flaunt visions of what originates from superior and then yearn for the hierarchy that is not imposed, but rather is a consequence of subsistence apparatuses that put essay its longevity and validity in sevenths, missing four to reach Sapphic foundations, and scaling Mythologies that could facilitate being under the position of the Demiurge or poet cultist of verses, perhaps superior to the crimping of any system when a judgment of true root or incautious origin is put. All this Hellenic atmosphere relied on the ethos links between Vernarth and his lord Spílaiaus, after rearranging pre-ontological (vorontologischeas Heidegger says) knowing his skill and tenfolds as he conforms to the ascending tenth of the eleventh of the sapphic. After this, Wonthelimar would appear to be the object of transcendental challenges and interpretations of the world that give rise to the same thing after not being in Spílaiaus' speech with sapphic verses.

The statement of becoming will be the cause of the gods of the Itheoi after the physiognomy that will spoil the Vertical of Gaul in the very genesis of Wonthelimar. Undoubtedly there will be chilling events of axiomatic transfers and metempsychosis that will be elucidated from the helminths that Spílaiaus will spill through the bark of possession. This mysterious orphic enchantment will be billed by Wonthelimar from the separation of Valdaine emerging alienated over the mountains of Ardeche, transmigrating euphony and reduced justifications that were united with the Helminth reminiscent and reincarnated by Vernarth. Perhaps it was a verme-worm that was classified on his arm moth-eaten in elongated elder veins to parasites of certainly commendable colonies and vehement and lyrical idiomatic apogees. The balusters will continue to be amatory componential in Vernarth for being composed of Heidegger's plinth and imagining oral linkages with the patronage of his eternal mother Luccica who will awaken as always in all presumptive psychophysical and atoning Zionisms with eloquent perspectivism and millionth re-trance, consisting of the putrid ***** arm of his Abrahamic split physics, dissociating in his body, separating and alternating with the dexterous spiral Aorion bracelet existing between the armband of Sagittarius and Perseus, liquefying in indissoluble modular stratagems for three bodies, plus the one that accompanied them dealing with their posthumous individualities in triplets. Singular unconscious metempsychoses brought their dexterous arm picking him up repeatedly from the discursive hives of Wonthelimar, to convince them and tell them that they had not seen the Hexagonal Progeniture for some time, unimpeded that brought him from Ardeche in lasting ensembles and concerting grays senses looking at the valleys of Valdaine in pilgrimages towards the expectant Patmian plains. Its expiration was reborn from the appendages of the water lilies that were seized by embedded lumbar powers, and mentalized in related memories that subsist in digressive reincarnations and longings, re-advancing with revived intelligence to indoctrinate themselves with the elevation of an emetic absolutist consciousness free of greater breaths of judgment is constant waste and reciprocity of cabinets, which were started from an initial discipline already transmigrated,The transitory glow of Exomis hung over some stones that were close to the Perivrachiónio or metal armband that multiplied in the three brazils of Vernarth, Wonthelimar and finally Spílaiaus that was bordered by the Acacians and Nothofagus that were covered with water lilies and peduncles cordoning off the livestock, full of thrones to conquer them almost after having lost calculations of the plasma that was innovated from a Hetairoi by reformulating itself from an incendiary bullfighting essence to its deltoids by detonating hatred in its croaks. All this clairvoyance was veiled for the clothing of the Exomis that was automatically placed in transition when the leaves of the deciduous led him to temporize in Wonthelimar in tender attachments. Distorted would be achieved with ****** healings next to the brave tributary, leaving in the vanguard and with starts from all the carriages that took the condemned to Halicarnassus to be truncated together with infallible Canephores in disgrace to their executioners, browsing all the oak branches of the Wonthelimar joint that had been sheltering from its head, sticking to ancient ruts of souls in pain over the sleeping Nyons. the brawl symbiosis of the Megaron was exhibited with the "M" united with two inverted "Vs", Wonthelimar conceptualizing himself on the eve of early buildings and phobias fragmenting into numerous odes in Thessaly, which were already beginning to re-agglutinate attracted from a majestic image of Hellas, under the pretext of Hellenistic consummations as a vocational and primitive institute race of Alejandrino Magnus derived a few nautical miles to board towards Patmos. The ship crossed the sea conceptualizing itself as the most universal being that revived in the Triacontero, appearing among all the waters as a nubile surf that spoke to each other with words Mageireméno Kefáli Votánon, "Head cooked with herbs". Speaking in primitive erudition alternated and swells with forty feet in territorial Argonauts making similar corvettes like the Gulf of Tarnetino, possessing distant comparisons with sixty miles of the base that colonized Wonthelimar for new sources when encrypted in the Megaron. They persevere leading the Immaturas Polis that would be documented in Patmos and in town halls of the assembly with ****** ceased battles climbing to a great height from the cogitative of the Megarón temple and Theater of Epidaurus, under three shadows of adjoining water lilies and the Spilaion Apokalypseos.

As will be seen in this demonstrative synopsis of the hemicycle Theater of Epidaurus working in the stars for the nations of Asclepius together with Wonhtelimar, that is how migrated melodic sessions and Parapsychological palmistry sounded with burdensome marks of intervenors expectorated in vast when impelling on the Koilones and softened bleached bleachers where each one was shouting to all the winds the advent of all the auditoriums absent by past and future generations, acclaiming lives in salvific voices. Here Spilaiaus from his stomáchi or visceral will point out the stinging nettle that he will invariably scheme whenVernarth continues to weave the plot of transmigration to the CartesianUnderworld as an apocryphal late Aristotelianism, mechanizing the existential dualisms of Hades with formulas, psychotropic and geometric tricks, granting them permission to bequeath habeas corpus theologies, coexisting in the first instance with Etréstles de Kalavrita, who would establish the term of definitive transmigration of Alexander the Great so that the Diadochos andWonthelimar would contend the final and disciplinary action of revocation of the high arrest, trans humanizing the sovereign as a Macedonian next to the hexagonal Primogeniture finally very close to Saint John the Apostle andVernarth in the vicinity of the Megaron Spilaion Apokalypseos. Spílaiausinvokes: "Neolithic alloys, they corresponded to the Medea and Hypnos eras, among all of them being aerial, visionary and northern lights that traveled to my redoubt to sprinkle them in river waters on the night of Agios San Ioannis.From here the Kanthillana with Greco pilgrimage, portentous gusts where the wind is amazed when entering the concavity that is lost in nature of time and qualitative content, unusually being an organism of outburst and cytological drama together in trickery and radiocarbon tricks due to vicissitudes, and actions that have dated my radiation from the radioactive carbon in these caverns and insulted carbon spaces fourteen in more than fifty million radiometric years. From here, my Vernarth, everything becomes insignificant and all the levels of expression slide down the armband, differing three levels from where I have been able to hear the truth of your sound kingdom, which emits gestures that are neither music nor harmonious directions in any worldview where it should place everything that no one can perceive by the senses of nature more enormous than any resurrected mortal. This is how the Itheoi genres are a drastic irrationality that is responsible for restoring forgotten beings, almost Hellenistic humans who speak through languages ​​of their gaze, and museological splendors of which they only reprimand metaphysics as an understanding of the Void such as the Judaic Kli or Hellenic Kenosis, which goes evidencing immersion by transferring futile understanding and hermeneutic pontificate times of Kantillana and Olympus, Patmos and Horcondising. Thus all beings when referring to Vernarth will be nothing more or less than the same in the company of the science of a future that will eternally coexist with the constitutive past of an active present called "Submythology" everything that does not contain parental relationship in koilones and of his greek spiritual stratum, It will be kenósis and Kli of parental pairing with the significance of erratic mobilities in what is interpreted as sporadic mourning, given the universal change, therefore, atmospheric. In the second Trilogy, the Triacontero goes through the Othónes of Naupactus, to Limassol. The ship was attached to the Ziziphus of the Moshiach's crown back from Jaffa, Walking the deck of the ship getting exasperated to revisit Kourion. As the adrenaline subsided, he crashed the port side keeping them in retinas of spheres of fire that came out of the ponto, enlarging such crapulous spheres that they had traveled to the sea through the Kouris River, but been kidnapped by Brisehal who assaulted them and put them on his back esplanade to swim to the peninsula of the current Akrotiri where the ogre carried him as floating globules to inhabit the sands of Cyprus. A tremolo mortar and sinewy essences of the Falangist faction will be established. Together they walk through the arena with Brisehal, being able to observe that it was coming from above and from a great Alikantus glide to meet him. Now, this trilogy of distinguishedAnimalia superheroes was made up of who would escort him to listen to the legions of Greeks from Mycenae who besieged Kourion. When they walked along the edge of the beach, several artists crossed in front of them carrying Avant-grade instruments in their hands, accompanied by miners and forgers of goldsmiths. Everything says to prosper in the Aegean and Greece for a new Paraps ***- Forests of Hylates, Gold Medallion Second Hegira to Limassol. Spílaiaussensible in his necromantic arts would be immersed in an absolutist language of relatives to welcome Vernarth, shelter him, and feed him after Highs and Lows that commemorated all the possible truths and falsehoods that he had to avoid from the final Prolegomena or final speech of the Trilogy, aiming to be located in the highest part of the Kanthillana to face its Greco-American world lineage in wetlands or taigas that would move great cycles of the Caucasus with the Meltemi towards all the grasslands and steppes, bringing vast multitudes of gregarious Hoplites to live together by the floods of the Paleolithicstragglers, to go back to the sinister prehistory that is based mainly on the names of the towns with writing they gave to the "barbarians" who invaded them. Zeus-God (Jovis in genitive) that is, Zeùs patér in Greek, Jupiter in Latin, Dyauspita in Sanskrit. He is opposed to mere demons or secondary gods (Sanskrit devas, daeva Avesta, Lithuanian devas, Gallic Devo, Latin Deus-divi), who derive from the "luminous sky" (the day = dyu,dyo, dies, diei). He will make the sacrificial background of the coming euro-American scene, thus creating the liturgical syncretism of survival by venerating all those who dwell in soulless bodies in the latitudes of Kantillanaand Olympus. From this gregarious candling emanating primary physical forces of submithology; in which man (****) lived. Man is mortal (Marta-, martya- in Sanskrit), son of the Earth-Mother (Mata-prithivi in ​​Sanskrit, Gê-méter in greek). This dualism, only outlined at the level of the primitive into-Europeans, gains consciousness overtime when the mature age of evanescent humanity (Jaspers' Achsenzeit) is reached. In discrepancy of mythological root antagonism, it is bringing chronological and obituary rhythms that will live to delight us with their own gesture from Hellas and Anatoliamainly to Patmos and Horcondising, Sudpichi, Chile. The conductive cycle will have a great impact on Spílaiaus, dimensioning itself in Aristotle, regenerating the first signs of infra spelean humanism in cultures that have nowhere to lodge their vast parallel heritage in more than a distant pre-classical and classic threshold, procreating the only dissolute world striving aggressively in Vernarth Hellenic's Trilogy II.

1-Establish Lux as a farmer with his brother, father, mother. Show dissatisfaction at a lot in life, yearning for more, however Lux feels compelled to stay with family and help them. Establish a close relationship between the brothers, a good mother/son relationship, though a testy relationship with his father. Strange symbol branded on Lux’s chest, been there since he was a baby, no one is sure what it means- or no one is telling him. This is Lux’s L.S. beginning. Establish also is the world Lux is in, the facts of the ministry and the church, the knights and wars of before.
2-Introduce a festival in town with knights from “The Brotherhood” being present, establish them as knights capable of magic and swordplay, “The Brotherhood” knights are taking new recruits at the festival. Wanting to join, Lux goes through the trials and passes, though after a harsh reaction from his father, Lux does not leave with the knights. With Lux out of scene, a conversation between the mother and father should reveal the man is not in actuality Lux’s father, but his uncle, and his brother had been married to Lux’s mother (now his wife) though died fighting in a war between “The Brotherhood” as a member of their ranks, against a rival faction known as “The Order”  peak lux’s curiosity and focus on the desire to leave as established in the previous chapter. This and the next chapter are Lux’s “Go The Distance”
3-The end of the week long festival nears, and Lux is on a hunting trip with his younger brother, returns and is questioned by his father why he wants to leave so much. The truth of Lux’s true father is revealed, and though Lux’s uncle expected this to convince Lux to stay and not go into danger, Lux is angered rather, and leaves in a hurry to catch “The Brotherhood” knights before they leave. Lux is put under the tutelage of a man who claims to have known Lux’s father, though it is revealed Lux’s little brother followed him, and is taken into the recruit pool as well, despite never going through the testing. Note- perhaps have Lux refuse to go with the knights if his brother is not also offered a spot? Hero’s journey, he needs a moment of hesitation and refusal to go. This should be reflected like Lukes refusal to join ben, or Bilbos refusal of gandalf, but quickly change their minds.
4-Training begins the moment they arrive at a camp. Lux and his brother are immediately outfitted with leather armor, dark and gritty in contrast of the shining metal of the rest of the knights. Lux is doing well in training, sword play coming natural, shakey with a bow, and ofcourse a natural talent at magic, (though make a point that in fire spells Lux only manages to start small flames that he can throw, and struggles with healing magic) though his brother is struggling in all aspects and is beat by his trainer. Lux’s trainer urges Lux to ignore it,though Lux finally snaps and challenges the man. The two enter a circle made in the dirt with training swords, and though Lux appears to have the advantage at first, he is quickly beaten and left gasping and ****** on the floor. The trainer leaves Lux there, and soon a hand reaches down to Lux. A female trainee named Ciara picks up Lux and, joined by his brother, the three wander off for more training for the instructors. Introduce Peter, a man deeply infatuated by Ciara, rather than a knight Peter is a Father to the holy church, unable to fall in love and forbidden to marry. Subtle on Peter’s infatuation with Ciara, should really build Peter as a good friend to Ciara,
5. Lux, his trainer, CIara, and her trainer are all out in the forest doing patrol after reports that remnants of “The Order” have picked up their pace in activity in the surrounding areas, raiding small towns and taking young men and women as recruits. Lux and Ciara are separated for a time and grow closer through talk and laughter when they see two knights in armor that is shining silver on almost the entire body though the right arm and pec are a scarlet red, drinking water from a stream. Confirming with each other that is the description of “The Order” Ciara says they should find their trainers though Lux charges. Ciara is close behind, catching the two off guard. Both are quickly overpowered through the use of advanced magic from “The Order” but Ciara’s trainer jumps in, kills one, but is killed by the second. As he turns, Lux throws his dagger and hits the man in the eye, killing him. Lux and Ciara carry her trainers body back to camp. Ciara refuses to speak and when greeted at the gate by Peter, she embraces him and cries into his shoulder. Have both Lux and Ciara attempt healing magic to no avail. Have Lux grow frustrated at feeling the ABILITY to heal, but unable to do so.
6. Lux is punished for charging, while his trainer is taken to a secret meeting where they discuss what to do with Lux, but out of respect for his father, they keep him in “The Brotherhood”. Lux has not seen Ciara since the incident, though he can see her in the crowd when he is being taken to be whipped, and receives 10 lashes, to Peter’s dismay who recommends either banishment or death. After the punishment, he is cut loose from the posts holding him up and Lux’s brother charges the ground, picking his brother up and taking him to his bed. As they pass Lux manages an apology, but is unsure if she accepts it. Lux is informed she will be trained alongside him. Make Peter do some ******* **** idk. Resenting “The Brotherhood” Lux should vent to his brother about his growing distrust of the situation, asking if his brother has felt the growing gap between what they feel they can do, and what they can do.
7. Show training between Lux, Ciara, and brother, distinguish a growing connection between Lux and Ciara, much to Ciara’s surprise and reluctance. Show Lux go into his trainers room while he is absent, and sees a sword on the wall, bearing a strange symbol. Lux trainer will explain that the sword should belong to Lux as it was his fathers, and when it is time he will inherit the blade but for now he must leave the blade alone. Lux asks about the situation behind his father's death. Explain the following: The Brotherhood were not always the knights guarding the royal family, before his birth the royal family was guarded by The Order, who are the reason The Brotherhood practice both swordplay and magic, as the Order are master swordsman and powerful wizards, prolific in blood magic and necromancy. When one member of The Order desired the throne for himself, he split The Order in 2. The Brotherhood worship the Gods, but in his desire and lust for power, the man struck a deal with the old gods, evil barbaric entities who require blood and death as sacrifices for their eternal power. This is Nero, a man that Lux’s father took in and treated as a brother, both being trained as knights for The Order. During the civil war, Nero attacked the Royal Palace and though he was badly defeated, he did **** Lux’s father in the battle. End chapter on this story. This chapter should be shows as Lux is uncertain of The Brotherhood and his trainer, but with the story of his father, he is conflicted. If it is true, then they are just. If it is wrong, how many more lies has he been told?
8. Show Lux becoming prolific with a blade and very intimidating magically. When he, Ciara, and his brother are sent on a mission with no trainers for the first time, Lux naturally takes charge. They track knights of The Order down to a cave, where they are tested both physically and magically. Ciara and Lux both protect brother as much as they can, though brother is able to hold his own. They manage to corner one who instead of being taken prisoner, stabbed himself in the stomach after giving an ominous warning. As Lux approaches the body, he sees on the cave wall a crude drawing of a man with the same symbol on his chest as Lux’s, holding a sword with the same symbol as Lux’s fathers, a figure resembling a large black and red dragon behind the man. Dismissing it, Lux tells Ciara and brother to not bother approaching, and the last of the knights are dead. The report back to base, and Lux informs trainer of what happened, leaving out the symbol.
9. Word carries out on base that more and more caves are being found with members of The Order, all with strange paintings on the walls. Peter speaks with the knights, explaining he has been praying and granted visions of a large scale battle. Have Ciara grab Lux’s arm at the sound of war, which Peter will notice (important for later) and in a hesitation to prepare for a battle that may or may not come, the commander of the camp demands the trainees be knighted, their proper gear be made, and to meet with the main force.
Cut from Lux to Peter alone in a church, praying to the Holy Mother begging for guidance away from the desires of his heart, and in his prayers Peter slowly realizes that he will not give up his desire for Ciara and decides to betray the Brotherhood in hopes Lux may die and he may be able to gain Ciara’s affection. Peter is seen leaving by Lux, though when questioned says he is going for more Fathers to pray and meditate on the matter.
10. Peter tracks down members of The Order, informing them that he wishes to give them valuable information, surrendering to them. Peter is taken to the leader of the knights operating in the area, and in exchange for one thing, is willing to tell The Order where The Brotherhood is, where they are going, their numbers, and anything else that will be of use. All he wants is them to make Ciara fall in love with him./ While Peter is doing this, Lux is kneeling in front of his trainer who knights him with fathers sword. (maybe do a crusader knight knighting, this is oath/this is how you remember it) When Lux is handed his father's sword, the cold metal instantly feels warm and the grip adjusts to his fingers and though it looks heavy, appears just the right weight to Lux. Lux is given armor, though when he takes his shirt off he sees the symbol on his chest glowing, same as the symbol on the sword. Trainer only says “magic is a strange thing, boy” and Lux is put into armor and finally leaves the shed a knight after only 2 months of training./back to Peter who is given a potion, told to have Ciara drink it and leave with her before they make their move. As Peter leaves, the leader barks orders to men who address him as Nero. Perhaps instead of Peter getting the potion straight from Nero, have him get it on a witch in the woods who is secretly affiliated with Nero, have to work out how she gets the information from Peter, but she could use magic to contact Nero after. Perhaps part of the agreement is Peter must turn his back on his abandoned faith and be her student and as a test of loyalty he must tell her everything he knows.
11. As The Order masses its numbers, knights of the Brotherhood are entering the giant city dedicated to The Brotherhood(Remulus? Romulus?) and Lux is in awe as he sees the a giant palace, and near it a graveyard with tombs. The tombs are the resting place of knights of The Order who gave their lives in service to the royal family, and now knights of The Brotherhood join their numbers. A newly marked grave is standing as a monument to Ciara’s trainer. The day is given to them to explore the city, and Lux/Ciara are alone together. Share a kiss. Witnessing the kiss, Peter comes from the shadows and informs them that curfew is near, and they should be heading back to the castle/as Peter watches the two make way to the castle laughing/holding hands, he heads to a monastery. He kneels before a picture of his god, praying asking to be told what to do. He knows he is a man of faith, so why are lust and desire even capable of entering his heart? He begs for pardon from sin as he sets his heart on giving Ciara the potion.
12. Now that the trainees have been knighted and the generals have been informed of Peter’s vision, prepare for war. The inhabitants of the city and many villages around are all pulled into the Castle’s walls, able bodied men and boys are given swords, women and girls find refuge in the newly emptied dungeons (all criminals hung/drafted?) Lux is witness to a battle plan, and overhears that during the last battle at the capitol city, The Order had used dragons to its aid, and though there were no confirmed sightings of dragons now, The Brotherhood should still set up catapults and bastilles on the off chance. Lux finds his brother and Ciara and informs them of what he has heard, though Peter comes and informs them that Lux must just be tired from nerves, and no one has seen a dragon in a generation. End with Ciara stopping a near brawl between the two, and Lux heading to his bed alone, and Peter now with Ciara, when a sound fills the halls. Scouts are reporting a massive army on the outskirts of the city.
13. Rain. Silence. Lux, Ciara, and his brother are among the numbers at the front gate. Rain hitting the ground. Hitting armor. Men are vomiting. Peter along with other priests are swinging burning incense between the rows of men, chanting prayers and songs of their god. Pounding. Pounding so hard that when it hits the front gate, the rain flies off the door and hits Lux’s face. Lux looks to his brother. The two nod. Lux looks into Ciara’s eyes. The two kiss. Confess love. The gate is broken open and the war begins with a thunderous roar in the sky, a dragon spewing fire on archers perched on castle walls as troops charge. Lux and the other knights hold their positions with a great clash the two armies finally meet. In screaming and fighting, Lux loses his brother, and The Brotherhood are pushed back, further and further. Lux manages to grab Ciara’s arm and the two run to a set of stairs going down to one of the dungeon entrances to warn the others that they are losing, when the dragon knocks over a giant pillar, stones hitting the two. Lux stays conscious from the first hit, and sees Peter approaching an unconscious Ciara with the potion in hand. Stuck beneath rubble, Lux watches as Peter pours it in her mouth and wakes her with a kiss. Begging Ciara for help frantically, she walks away with Peter, and as Lux cries out for his brother, more stones hit, causing him to go unconscious.
14. Lux awakens in an unfamiliar setting, on his knees. His hands shackled to the wall, his armor and sword feet in front of him, a man standing behind them. The man asks if Lux knows who he is. Looking up, Lux can see from the torches a tired face. Shaking his head, the man informs Lux, “I am Nero, commander of The Order, Captain of the Conquered Reaches, and rightful heir to the throne. And you are Lux. My nephew,” Nero smiles, touching Lux’s face. Accusing Nero of killing his father, Nero softens his eyes at Lux and stops moving. A look of sadness. “Your father's mistake is the single most regrettable accident in my life,” tells Lux more and more about his father. Informs Lux why the symbol is on his chest. Its magically bonded to the blade. It makes blood magic more powerful. Nero then informs Lux that his father had found a dragon egg just like Nero did, as Nero pulls the egg from his robes, shiney and black with streaks of scarlet. Nero offers Lux out of this cell, and he will gladly show him the ways of blood magic and make sure that Peter pays for his betrayal of the other knights. “I do not find The Brotherhoods newest members traitors, how can they betray a cause they never were offered? But how do you think we knew you were going to be there when we did? All of this has been for you, Lux.” with a wave of his hand, the shackles fall off Lux’s wrists and he falls forward. Reaching to the egg, Lux hesitates slightly, looking down and seeing his reflection in the water. With a wave of his hand, Nero projects the image of Peter kissing Ciara deeply. “That passion she gives him should be yours. I cannot create love. Only transfer it with a potion. When peter described the man who took his beloved, I should have realized. But together, I can rid the potions course and Peter will pay, Lux,” and as Lux watch Ciara enter Peter’s bed, he firmly grabs the egg, which begins to shake and crack in his hand, emerging a tiny dragon. Nero’s past: Nero will portray his story as such: He discovered that Lux’s mother is the illegitimate daughter of the queen. When Nero went to tell Lux’s father, he was stopped by the queen who attempted to have him killed, for if it was discovered that her late husband had an offspring, she would have a claim to the throne. In the ongoing fight, Nero claims he accidentally killed the queen and was discovered by Lux’s father. The fight was a misunderstanding and he was never able to tell him the truth of his soon to be (pregnant) wife. The split of The Order were those who believed Nero and those horrified at the death of the queen. Nero claims the royals betrayed him and those who followed the truth. Show a refusal to believe at first, though as his imprisonment lasts, and he goes over it again and again in his head, for weeks as Peter gets further away with Ciara, left with visions of Peter and Ciara making love, his Nero pleading with Lux’s father, and the conflict. Ambiguous if this is actually true or just indoctrination.
15. Lux’s training begins immediately. He is placed in the middle of a circle, men attacking from all directions and must fight them off with his blade and newly learned blood magic. Slicing his palm before gripping his blade, the warm metal now burns hot in Lux’s hands, and he drops the blade. Scolded with beatings and lashings, Lux learns how to embrace the pain. Magic flows through him stronger than ever as he adapts. Fire flows from his tips when before he could only manage an ember. He heals fatal wounds when before he could hardly manage a small cuts and broken bones. Lux is routinely beaten and whipped, his dragon growing and watching all the while. Weeks go by. Lux concentrates only on killing Peter and revenge. Pain, anger, and of course blood fuel blood magic to its extremes.
16. Lux’s brother is brought into a small room with other generals who managed to escape the battle of the capitol. He is questioned if he has heard from Lux, Peter, or Ciara as their bodies were never found. All the remaining forces are falling back to the capital, where a final stand will once again be made. Lux’s brother is told he may visit home one last time and must report to the capital in no more than 5 days, and his trainer will accompanying him/Lux is kneeling once again before Nero, though he feels the sword tap either shoulder as he is knighted into the brotherhood. He is given shiney armor and as he puts it on, is instructed to place his sliced palm on the opposite shoulder and watches as his blood flows into the metal, turning that arm and shoulder scarlet red. He is officially in The Order. Lux is tasked with one task to prove his loyalty. **** his stepfather and attempt to convince his mother to come swear loyalty to nero if she refuses, **** her too. If he does that, when he returns his dragon will feed on the personal sacrifice and be ready for battle, and in return Nero will make sure both Peter and Ciara are waiting for him. “It will be done, Lord Nero.” show conflict in Lux if he is truly willing to do all of this, and conflict on loyalty to Nero. The Dragons growth and power is connected to Lux’s ability in blood magic. The more anger, hate, and pain he puts into his abilities, the stronger the dragon will become.
17. Chapter starts with Lux standing outside his old house in the early hours of the morning, the sun peeking out of the mountains but being quickly covered by storm clouds. As darkness settles over the brief light illuminating the house. Lux enters the house. His stepfather enters the room hearing the door open but is grabbed by the throat.during the fighting, Lux manages to strangle his step father and throws his body to the door as his mother is running into the room. As she surveys the situation, there is a cry from the door, and Lux’s brother and trainer are standing in the door, sword in hand. Lux begins to unsheathe his sword but his mother moves between them, talking to the brothers. Lux demands to know from his trainer if what Nero said is true and that his mother is the rightful heir. Confirming Nero’s story partially, though claims that Nero attempted to blackmail the queen with the knowledge of the heir to gain more power. Lux tries to persuade his mother to join him and come be with Nero, that his father would have wanted this. When she refuses, he explains that she would not understand what he HAS to do to end this war, and when he is done the conflict will be resolved and order restored. Argument between lux and brother over oaths broken. Mother approaches Lux, touching his face tenderly speaking softly watching as her son is breaking. She offers him to leave the conflict entirely and to just live home with her, though as she turns to face Lux’s brother, Lux stabs her. Gasping she looks back to Lux, touching his face once more, “You look so much like your father in that armor” Lux , trainer and brother fight, Lux leaves his brother unconscious in the house quickly, though he kills his trainer outside, taking the bodies with him back to Nero.
18.Lux returns to the agreed upon spot to meet Nero, but is instead met by Ciara, who in his confusion and hesitation desperately tries to convince her to leave with him when out steps Peter with a staff in hand, who has now learned the magic of the old gods. When Lux raises his hand, his dragon lands behind him with a mighty roar. With a smirk, peter does the same, and a white and blue dragon lands behind him, a roar just as mighty. The dragons take to the air, circling and roaring, spitting blue and black flames at one another as Lux and Peter fight to the death. Just as Lux manages to defeat Peter after taunting and back and forth, there is a loud crash as Lux’s dragon lands on the other teeth in its neck, ripping its head off entirely. Ciara comes to her senses immediately, seeing Lux in armor of The Order standing over a wounded and ****** Peter, the blood spraying on them. Stepping toward Ciara, Lux is surprised when she steps back in fear. Allowing her to leave, Lux watches as she sprints away. The conversation between Lux and Ciara should be that of both trying to convert the other. When no understanding is made between the two, it is Lux’s love for Ciara that allows her to leave, she sprints to the horses and makes her way back to The Brotherhood. Turning back to a wounded Peter, Lux raises his sword when his eye catches sight of a faint glow on Peter’s chest. Kneeling to rip the man's shirt out of the way, Lux finds the same symbol that is on his sword and own chest. Peter is Lux’s lost twin.

Of death
the barber
the barber
talked to me

cutting my
life with
sleep to trim
my hair—

It’s just
a moment
he said, we die
every night—

And of
the newest
ways to grow
hair on

bald death—
I told him
of the quartz
lamp

and of old men
with third
sets of teeth
to the cue

of an old man
who said
at the door—
Sunshine today!

for which
death shaves
him twice
a week

brink of a doubling over
down falls forming a sensory slump
soft spoke and mirror smoke
   jailed as rome's one true heroes
we were softly sure oft and were true disposed,
'man alive told me and now I am telling you'
grant this - that we are born and die
forever feeling a drifting time
what a ride
grant this - that we are most recent
and are and are again
the newest information we feel
grant this - that we are loved
and that we are the newest
unto we are ourselves

I get accused of a lot of things at first glance

"You're simplistic, you're hiding something

You have no convictions, you don't think deeply"

Usually by those who I consider to be on intellectual crutches

If you're gonna come up to talk to me from a religious context

from a spiritual context

from a hierarchical, metaphysical, eat this **** popsicle mindset

Don't expect me to swallow

Don't expect me to talk

You won't like what I have to say

Because really you just want me to agree with you

If you want me to respect your framework

When you have nothing but the claims of quacks

and the feelings you gleaned from your last psychedelic trip

to back you up

While I have to sit back and listen to how I'm close minded

Close minded for wanting some real truth in this universe

unfiltered, raw, verifiable, and in my hand

and that anything other than that is a spray paint over

my true awakening

Then I guess I'll just have to be that *******

to die for these intellectual sins

The Eldest Son of Matt, hater of pretense

Hypocrite to the highest level

Build me up into a figure of idolatry

Just like you do with the rest of your ego cases

Priests, Gurus, Rabbis, Rockstars, Poet sensations

Tell me how wonderful it is to listen to them

Tell me how I should be more in touch with a tree

Tell me how I don't dream

When all my life is but that

Tell me how I'm not deep when you make no attempt to learn

Who I am, and where I have come from

Misinterpret my teachings, and claim me to feel

As if I was the newest son of god

When all I want is for people to get beyond blinders

and love each other, and to get beyond the metaphysical rat race

Tell me that I'm supposed to live and let live

While you jam your beliefs down my throat

and expect me to respect getting philosophically tea bagged

******* to the crucifix

and asking me to repent for my search for truth

When we are born there are hopes and dreams,
On the path we follow, enemies are made,
Cruelty forced upon us, tearing at our seams
The existence of the world is enveloped in flames, fire and decay.

Everywhere we turn – a wasteland waves,
Isolated, ruined, desolate
Negativity runs deep, tagged metal in their waist bands
The urge to be free, unchained, untagged.

Meadows of green grass and daisies and yellow roses,
towering the shadows, no worries about,
Winter creeps; silently, swiftly, suavely. Now
an ocean of black roses remain in power.

Oh colourful canvas, how beautiful you used to be,
Now you’re smothered in the greyness of despair,
An intimidation of words aggressively written,
And the pain never ends

That desperate wish that someone could care!

This noose I tie is never tied tight enough,
The glistening light shivers a hope for eternal sleep
Such a shame the cut never succeeds
And an only friend has gone  

Facebook, MySpace, Twitter;
He made himself the target and ****** in,
He took their advice, took the bullet,
Their words are a complete and utter sin

My, my it was that hilarious! Honestly.
The world corrupt, no social networks,
What a laugh it was; all fits and giggles
The importance never occurred

We- the kids of this generation- know nothing
but how to navigate the internet
Them- the adults of the era- that want the best
ignorant to the life on the information highway

This world is changing,
This world is ending,
This society, will become my newest nightmare
This society, will become your newest warfare

The news comes to us
Running all around
Coming from the air
And from the ground.

Happy news sad news,
Any type of feed,
Computers are shoes,
Running us what we need.

You can surf it you can scroll it,
Or even search google
You can find the perfect color
To match you white poodle.

You search all day,
And even all night,
And the results are run to you,
Like they are running from a fight.

You can search sitting down,
You can search standing up,
You can search foreign languages,
On how to say whats up.

Want to impress you girlfriend,
Show her you can cook,
Pull up a recipe on google,
You don’t have to search a book.
Want the newest fashion news,
And the newest styles,
They are only a click away,
Within the internet files.

Shoes are the foundation,
That we live on every day,
And computers are that foundation,
That we use everyday.

Computers run information,
Going and coming to and fro,
They can tell you the directions,
for where you want to go.

Computers are shoes,
They are solids we rely on,
You can use them for your homework,
To find a certain ion.

So this poem is over now,
And I think you get my point,
Computer are shoes,
This is my poem joint.

You got to know what for, Babe, you got nothin' to lose,
Just like ev'rybody else in the whole **** world.
You gotta break on through
To the other side of your sad attitude,
But you can't shake off
Them muddy Mississippi Bluez.

Well, Hell! She's beatin' on a drum
And she's gettin pretty loose.
Seems like ev'rybody else in the whole **** world
Is comin' down on her
And standin' on some plattitude.
She's just tryin' to groove
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez.

Up and down the water,
You watch the riverboats cruise,
As you drink against the tree beneath a sky of blue.
Sleep wants to take you,
But Honey, you refuse.
You gotta pay your dues
To the muddy Mississippi Blues.

Life along the delta can be simple and fine,
When the stills fill the jugs and the full moon shines.
You're gonna make it through
When you find a little gratitude.
So give your praise
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez

"Well, Hell! Take me away,
Muddy Mississippi.
I know I can count on you.
To stain my soul
Like muddy Mississippi goo.
I owe it all
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez!"

I planted a mango seed,
Hoping?
Not sure what...

But the mango grew
Out of its context,
Poked shiny green leaves
Looking for sun and surf,
But found itself awakened
In a land of snow and cold.

Seven leaves into its
Exponential Mango growth,
The newest leaf
Yellowed...
Shriveled...
Died.

The Minnesota Mango
Meditates now...
Watered, but waiting....
Slumbering?
Planning a spring break?
Meditating?
Waiting for summer sun?
Perhaps....

Today
I heard about
A neighbor boy
Who smuggled in
A baby alligator
From the Bayou,
South and warm.

At least my Mango
Stays inside its
Crockery planter,
And an alligator jail break
Will leave him
Freezing in his tracks...

We'll see what happens
In the summer.

freshman year
Happy, scared, young, full, and ready for whatever it is thats about to hit you.
You loose your bestfriend, and your virginity.
You gain a new clique, and a body count.

sophomore year
your freshman expertise kick in and you think youve got the feel for the highschool life.
You fail chemistry, and go to your first party.
you are now a ****
You think youre cooler than your ex
bestfriend because you have ten bucks saying that shes never had a boy see her underwear or that shes never been as drunk at you.

junior year
You spent your summer in therapy, in
and out of mental hospitals because your eating disorder became deadly, and all of the friends you partied with cut you off because your newest bestfriend convinced you to sleep with one of their exs.
You come back to school as dead as
you have ever been and you spend every lunch period in the art room painting your sorrows away and you spend every night at home doing the same only this time your wrist becomes the canvas.

seinor year**
Your down to one medication a day now and you have commited social suicide all summer by staying in to gaurd yourself from turning to drugs and alcohol again to hide the pain. Graduation is arround the corner and you realize you could finally be happy once this is all over.

Its just a fantasy the only regret is permanence,
The life of a modern day gypsy, an unknown destination.
I wake up to new faces from past day's bruises,
A long journey into some town, exploring the unknown.
Green sanctum reflecting the temple top,
Woken up by the gong of the ancient metals.
Treated like a royal guest, offered a lot of the harvest,
Walking down the symmetric coconut grooves.
I see vessels carrying newest of the goods,
But here they still stick to their roots.
True its a gods own country, abundant beauty,
I'm lost amidst the hills sipping the Malabar coffee.

'Tell me I'm not in a dream. Or one of my trances.' She uttered the two sentences between gasps and seem-to-be quickening pulses. In midair, the tension between them kept growing intensely, trying desperately to meet its peak every second, before finally disappearing into the sightless distance above it. 'You're not,' the man said, his voice distant even when his face was only a few inches from hers, and cupped his free hands around her chin to calm her pale face. Her cheeks were warm in his palms, as if being burnt by hundreds of heaps of dying, yet ravenous flames. She closed her eyes, recording the touch of his perfect skin that seemed able to charm her endlessly since the first time she had fixed her gaze on his shimmering features. The angelic voice which accompanied it woke her a few seconds later. 'And even if you are,' he traced his soothing fingers along the reddening skin of her cheeks, 'I'll bring you back to life. Which is here.' He emphasised the last two words with a smile, a heartbreaking, infuriating smile - because of its astounding beauty, before tenderly touching his cherrylike lips to hers, making her start to tremble uncontrollably in deep confusion. She was, again, in the middle of these steep rocks without any aid to support her unstable weight, meanwhile the air over their heads began to twirl in circles, the weather around them getting pink and turning red in five seconds' time. She was lost. In someone else's magical world, with a rendition of one of The Beatles' hit singles from the 1900s or 1950s - she could not exactly recall which period of years it came from - playing smoothly in the CD player in the languid atmosphere of the living room behind them.
After a moment of enjoyment the kiss brought them he pulled back, before slamming his left hand into the tiny depth of his shirt pocket and taking a silver locket out of it. He threw a confident smile at her, and in one blink of his eye, the room fell dark. Petrified yet washed out by the sudden darkness among them, the girl let out a heart-rending shriek, which was followed by her heaving her body onto him, making his head hit the floorboards and the long necklace break in half. In seconds, blood-red light began to shuffle out of the center of the torn necklace, mingling with the air outside its shell and sending the woman into gradually-coming unconsciousness. She could now only see shadows, muttering and brimming all over the weather around her, and had not the strength to stand up apart from lying helplessly on the feathered carpet beneath. Before her, she saw how he started to rise and reveal his claws, and fangs, and bright red eyes above her. He laughed mercilessly. Instantly, she covered her sweating face with her hands - which now felt too shaky and she hated it, she loathed it very much - and brought out a despondent, lamented sound of cry. Her evil lover, at the same time, continued to soak up as much energy as possible from the change of circumstance.
'Again, I successfully, harmlessly tricked you,' he whispered this to her right ear. Around them, the horrendous wind potter faster and faster meanwhile their invincibly powered circles got bigger. 'You should thank me for that.'
'Th... Thank you for what?' She abruptly gathered her courage to confront him. If this meant that the end of my life was approaching, I would be ready, she thought silently.
'For letting me bound my ways into your life again, Em,' his angelic voice replied, and before she realised what was coming next, she wailed with all of her might when she laid her eyes on his real monstrous, vampiric face before her.
'I am indeed sorry to say that you - a clever and sanguine girl like you - was granted the chance to relish your life only momentarily,' he cleared his throat. 'You have always known that you could not outrun us at the end..., and so have your family.'
'No,' she mumbled, and drifted her gaze to his face - his now burning face. 'NO!'
'No,' he mockingly repeated her words, 'or YES, my dear?'
'Don't call me using that 'D' word, beast,' she put her best effort to yell at the top of her lungs, ''cos I am not your dear, and prefer death to becoming one of you!'
With those last few words, she scrambled to her feet, and stood up in just two swift movements. In her both hands, which he did not know were protected by the two stashes of garlic and one wooden cross in her dress pockets, were two shiny swords with special blades carved onto their two edges which were designated to **** vampires. Get rid of them. And their malicious world of beasts.
She stepped forward, and new powers began to regenerate inside her - despite the cries she felt start to roll into her heart, upon knowing that her beloved Joe had died. Joe had been deceased now. He was lifeless, and no longer able to help her here. She should never have ditched him. It dawned on her now, when everything was already too late to fix up. But she knew that she should never give up. Javier and his vampire family might have tasted every single drop of her other family members - and the rest of Ludirus town's residents - including her Joe, before she idiotically kicked him out for this pathetic, heartless beast who wore a disguise to displace him. She stretch the first sword - the one in her right hand - out to him. He took a step back, his eyes remained focused on her.
'You won't hurt me,' he pretended to be in pain, and in one and a half seconds, he transformed into the figure of the innocuous, blue-eyed prince once more.
'I won't be deceived by your looks, pig,' spat her, meanwhile her brain rummaged through a thousand ways to stick the two swords into his chest. That was, in fact, the only way to **** him. To drain his evil life out of him.
'You were, once,' he laughed, the sound of his devious laughter echoed in the very room, and later left it in such dread and wariness.
'Not anymore,' she bravely took a step forward and, without any further doubt, without caring about her being imprisoned for the rest of her life before getting her blood dried by the fangs of Javier's two older brothers, she stabbed the swords into his chest with all the energy she had left. And the effects sprayed out by the action were beyond any of her expectations. Thousands of blood droplets poured out of his body and onto the floor beneath her, flooding the entire living room and finally the streets outside the building until no litter, little scraps of food, and wheels of vehicles were seen anywhere in sight. Surprisingly, these endless streams of blood did not cause any floods, and rapidly soaked through every single layer of soil the earth had on its surface. The blood that had been consumed out of the poor people of Ludirus, the rural village in South Ireland, famous for its cruel killing rampage for several thousand years, where a group of aristocratic vampire ruled the lives of humans and their own species. But now, there would be no more of them. No more of their horrible treatments. No more of their sneaking-up-on-humans tricks they secretly did at night - to savour human blood, which was lawfully removed from the protecting-human law renewed every year. It was all a lie. Yeah, a lie. A lie that allowed Javier's family to approach Lucinda's family members to be victims in their lifelong killing spree. But now, there would be no more vampires, thought Lucinda as she kissed her holy cross and sets of garlic affectionately. There would be no more blood sacrificed to fend for those beasts' hunger, even though it meant for her to live alone. Live on her own, as she no longer had anyone around her to turn to. To soak up her tears when she was scared away by the bunch of vampire kids on the way home from school. To calm her with her melodious chords at the piano. Mother. To serve her the best spaghetti in the world as a reward for her outstanding grades at school. Sister Sheila. To rub her back and put her to bed at night - at the age of sixteen! Father. Luce's tears just would not stop while she kept counting her memories, as every single shadows of her deceased beloved came back to her. And finally, the sight of her Joe lying his tired head on her lap, and reading out loud to her his newest poem he composed at the office for her. All were gone. Dissolved into the ravenous sea of blood in the guts of those psychotic, simpering, abusive monsters.
But she was satisfied. She felt, somehow, proud of her heroic, or at least, brave actions. She had taken control of her fear, and that was one of the most important characteristics a woman should have to succeed in this cruel world, her father had once said. Now she could prove to them all that she was a newly reborn person, and was no longer the old Lucinda. Lucinda Hale who had always been the 'tail' of her sister while they were six and four, and the little, spoilt daughter of Jim and Aileen Hale who could not hold a plate properly in every banquet their family was invited to. Luce knew that she was now completely a stranger to her family. She squinted her eyes shut, trying to imagine how nice it would be to show off her new self to her late family if only they were all alive with healthy pink cheeks now. In her own peace and this momentary solitude, she found herself sinking onto the floating warmth of blood, but strangely, she did not fall. She did not plunge into the limitless red colour underneath, and remained flowing above it while her tears started to crawl out of her eyes. She did not know, and did not want to know how long this remained until she eventually felt the rough surface of the bearskin carpet again. She woke up with a dizzy head and quickly threw a hasty look around her living room. The prince, beastly Javier had vanished. Oh, there are his remnants, she thought and unconsciously, chuckled quietly to herself when she came to take hold of several white, lifeless bones laid in front of her. Then suddenly she understood what had just happened. The legend in that book she had borrowed from the library transported the knowledge back into her mind. All the members of Javier's family had been crushed now. They were dead. Her sacred tears, which came to mix with the blood flood, became the cure for all the people who had been ****** by the vicious vampires in town. They were now freed, and reawarded, although still mortal, but yet a very rare, elusive, privileged chance to be alive once again and start their lives all over again. They must not be far from her now, thought her. Without any further wait, she raced out of the room, and wormed her way onto the street.
And here they were. The streets of Ludirus were no longer deserted. Traditional markets with a thousand-metre long series of antiques roamed them, occupying every single tiny space provided to place racks containing jewels, valuables, and gold pots. There were also shelves of books about cookery, traditional healing potions, sports, literature, and anything else someone ever wanted to buy. And then she spotted a book with a bright yellow cover, entitled 'Love Poems: From 1900 to the Present, by Joe Grogan.' Her breath seemed to stop at that time and suddenly, before she even got the opportunity to touch the cover of the copy in front of her, two warm arms wrapped her waists and turned her body around to face the owner. Once again, she was at a terrible loss for words. 'Joe,' she mumbled.
'I am,' the writer nodded solemnly. And just like the evil Prince Javier had done before, he pulled out a beautiful silver box and opened it. Inside, two rings shined beautifully before their eyes, radiating a smile as bright as the one seen on others' faces among them. A smile that celebrated the comeback of their long-lost independence. Before she knew it, Joe knelt before her, and presented the ring upwards onto her.
'What would you like to do first, Madam? Marry me, or buy my book?' He grinned and held both her hands. Before she could answer him, he inserted her left ring finger into the perfectly made ring, and helped her right hand fasten his own ring onto his finger. She lifted him up and wrapped her hands around his neck.
'Do you have time for both, Sir?' She rubbed his smooth cheeks and kiss them before looking deeply into his hazel eyes.
'Absolutely,' he answered firmly, and scooped her whole weight into his arms and spinned her around. Luce could no longer say anything when a sudden wave of happiness washed all over her, and became even at a more unfathomable loss of words when she caught the sight of her beloved father, mother, and her sister, all alive, start approaching to deliver their congratulations. Here we are, she thought with a satisfied feeling. We were, are, and will always be meant to be together.

Oh master of chemistry
What wonders you devise
Some make us happy
Some save our lives

Sterile lab coat
In a white sterile cell
You toil all hours
To create the newest pill

We never acknowledge
Your struggle and strife
For the chemical wonders
That are part of our life.

And indeedst, thou mourneth once more
When th' lover who is to thine become
Returneth not, in thy own brevities-of love and hate,
As t'is chiding ruthlessness might not be
thy just fate.

Cleopatra, Cleopatra
Shalt thy soul ever weepest for me?
Weep for t'ese chains of guilt and yet, adorable clarity
T'at within my heart are obstreperously burning
I thy secret lover; shrieks railing at my heart
Whenever thou lurchest forwards
and tearest t'is strumming passion apart.

And t'ere is one single convenience not
As I shalt sit more by northern winds; and whose gales
upon a pale, moonlit shore.
Cleopatra, play me a song at t'at hour
Before bedtime with thy violin once more
And let us look through th' vacant glasses;
at clouds t'at swirl and swear in dark blue masses.

Ah, my queen, t'ese lips are softly creaking
and swearing silently; emitting words
of which I presume thou wouldst not hear.
On my lonely days I sat dreamily
upon t'at hard-hearted wooden bench,
and wrote poems of thee
behind th' greedy palm trees;
They mocked me and swore
t'at my love for thee was a tragedy;
and my poem a menial elegy
For a soldier I was, whom thy wealth
and kingdom foundeth precisely intolerable.
How I hate-t'ose sickly words of 'em!
Ah, t'ose unknowing, cynical creatures!
I, who fell in love with thee
Amongst th' giggling bushes,
stomping merrily amongst each other
and shoving their heads prettily on my shoulder
As I walked pass 'em;
I strapped their doom to death,
and cursed their piously insatiable wrath
Until no more grief was left attached
To th' parable summer air; and rendered thou as plainly
as thou had been,
but bleak not; and ceremoniously unheeded
Only by thy most picturesque features, and breaths.
Thou who loved to wander behind th' red-coated shed,
and beautiful green pastures ahead
With tulips and white roses on thy hand,
And with floods of laughter thou wouldst dart ahead
like a summer nightingale;
'fore stretching thy body effortlessly
amongst th' chirping grass
Ah, Cleopatra, thou looketh but so lovely-
oh, indeedst thou did; but too lovely-too lovely to me!
A figure of a princess so comely,
thou wouldst but be th' one
who bringst th' light,
and fool all t'ose evils, and morbid abysses;
Thou shalt fill our future days with hopes,
and colourful promises.

And slithered I, like a naive snake
Throughout th' bushes; to swing myself into thee
Even only through thy shadow,
I didst, I didst-my love, procured my satisfaction
By seeing thee breathe, and thrive, and bloom.
I loveth her not, t'is village's outrageous,
but sweet-spirited maiden;
a dutiful soldier as I am,
my love for thee is still bountiful,
ah, even more plentiful t'an t'is cordial one
I may hath for my poor lover. Not t'at I despise
her poorness, but in my mind, thou art forever my baroness;
Thou art th' purest queen, amongst all th' virgins
Ah, Cleopatra!
To me, if rejection is indeedst misery,
thine is but a glorious mystery;
for whose preciousness, which is now vague,
by thy hand might come clear,
for within my sight of thee
All t'ese objections are still ingenious,
within thy perilous smile,
t'at oftentimes caresses me
With relief, whenst I am mad,
and corrupts my conscience-
whenst I am sad;
Even only for a second; and even only
for a while.
But if thy smile were all it seemeth,
and thy perfection all t'at I dreameth,
Then a nightmare could be mirth,
and a bitter smile could be so sweet.
Just like everything my eyes hath seen;
if thy innocence was what I needest,
and thy gentleness th' one I seekest,
then I'd needst just and ought, worry not;
for all thy lips couldst be so meek
and thy glistening cheeks
wouldst be so sleek.

Oh, sweet, sweet-like thee, Cleopatra!
Sweet mournful songs are trampling along my ears,
but again, t'ey project me into no harmony-
I curse t'em and corrupt t'em,
I gnaw at t'em and elbow t'em-
I stomp on t'em and jostle t'em-
th' one sung by my insidious lover,
I feel like a ghost as I perch myself beside her.
Whilst thou-thou art away from me!
Thou, thou for whom my breath shalt choke
with insanity,
thou who wert there and merrily laughed with me-
just like last Monday,
By yon purple prairie and amber oak trees
By my newest words and dearly loving poetry.
Oh, my poetry-t'at I hath always crafted so willingly,
o, so willingly, for thee!
For thee, for thee only, my love!
Ah, Cleopatra, as we rolled down th' hoarse alley t'at day,
and th' silky banks by rueful warm water-
I hoped t'at thou wouldst forever stay with me,
like th' green bushes and t'eir immortal thorns,
Thou wouldst lull me to sleep at nights,
and kiss me firmly every dewy morn.

Cleopatra, Cleopatra
Ah, and with thy cherry-like lips
Thou shalt again invite me into thy living gardens,
With thy childish jokes and ramblings and adventures
To th' dying sunflowers, thou wert a cure;
and thy crown is even brighter t'an their foliage,
For it is a resemblance of thy heart, but
thy vanity not;
Thou art th' song t'at t'ey shalt sing,
thou art th' joy t'at no other greatness canst bring.

Ah, Cleopatra, look-and t'is sun is shining on thee,
but not my bride;
My bride who is so impatiently to withdraw
her rights; her fatal rights-o, I insist!
And so t'is time I shall but despise her
for her gluttony and rebellious viciousness.
T'at savage, unholy greed of hers!
How unadmirable-and blind I was,
for I deemed all t'ose indecipherable!
How I shalt forever deprecate myself,
for which!
Ah, but whenst I see thee!
As how I shall twist my finger into hers,
(Oh! T'is precocious little harlot!)
Thou art th' one who is, in my mind, to become my lover,
and amongst tonight's all prudence and marriage mercy
I shall dreameth not of my wife but thee;
Whilst my wife is like a cloaked rain doll beneath,
and her ******* shall be rigid and awkward to me-
unlike thee, so indolent but warm and generous
with unhesitant integrity;
Ah, I wish she could die, die, and be dead-by my hands,
But no anger and fury could I wreak,
for she hath been, for all t'ese years,
my single best friend.
Or she was, at least.
Oh Cleopatra, thou art my girl;
please dance, dance again-dance for me in thy best pink frock,
and wear thy most desirous, fastidious perfume;
I shall turn thee once more, into a delicious nymphet,
and I standing on a rock, a writer-soldier husband to thee-
Loving thee from afar, but a nearest heart,
my soul shalt become tender; but passionately aggravated
With such blows of poetic genuinity in my hands-
by t'ese of thee-so powerful, and intuitive sonnets.

Oh, my dear! T'is is a ruin, ruin, and but a ruin to me-
A castle of utmost devastation and damage and fear,
for as I looketh into her eyes behindeth me,
and thine upon thy throne-
so elegant and fuller of joy and permanent delight
Than hers t'at are fraught with pernicious questions,
and flocks of virginal fright,
I am afraid, once more-t'at I am torn,
before thy eyes t'at pierce and stun me like a stone,
an unknown stone, made of graveyard gems, and gold
Thou smell like death, just as dead as I am
On my loveless marriage day
And as I gaze into th' dubious priest
And thee beside him, my master-o, but my dream woman!
Oh, sadly my only dream woman!
Th' stars of love are once more
encompassing thine eyes,
and with wonder-oh Cleopatra, thou art seemingly tainted
with sacrifice, but delightfully, lies-
As I stareth at thee once more,
I knoweth t'at I loveth thee even more
just like how thou hath loved me since ever before
And thy passion and lust rooted in mine
Strangling me like selfish stars;
and th' moon and saturated rainbows
hanging up t'ere in troubled, ye' peaceful skies, tonight.

I want her not, as thou hath always fiercely,
and truthfully known,
so t'at I wriggle free,
ignoring my bride's wise screams
and cries and sobs uttered heartbreakingly-
onto th' gravel-and gravely chiseled pavement outside,
'fore eventually I slippeth myself out of my brownish
soldier's uniforms.
Thou standeth in surprise, I taketh, as I riseth
from my seat-my fictitious seat, in my mind,
for all t'is, pertaining to my unreal love for her,
shalt never be, in any way, real-
All are but th' phantom and ghost
of my own stories; trivial stories
Skulking about me with unpardonable sorries
Which I hate, I hate out of my life, most!
As to anyone else aside from thee
I should and shalt not ever be-married,
and as I set my doleful eyes on thee once more,
curtained by sorrow and unanswered longings,
but sincere feelings-I canst, for th' first time,
admire thy silent, lipped confession
Which is so remarkably
painted and inked throughout
thy lavish; ye' decently translucent face;
t'at thou needst me and wouldst stick by me
in soul, though not in flesh;
but in heaven, in our dear heaven,
whenst I and thou art free,
from all t'ese ungodly barriers and misery,
to welcome th' fierceness of our fate,
and taste th' merriment of our delayed date.
Oh, my love!
My Cleopatra! My very own, my own,
and mine only-Cleopatra!
My dear secret lover, and wife; for whom
my crying soul was gently born, and cherished,
and nurtured; for whose grief my heart shall be ripped,
and only for whose pride-for whose pride only,
I shall allow mine to be disgraced.
Cleopatra! But in death we shall be reunited,
amongst th' birds t'at flow above and under,
To th' sparkling heavens we shall be invited,
above th' vividly sweet rainbows; about th' precious
rainy thunder.

Mr. Lake...hold me.

Mr. Lake...I beg.

Mr. Lake...It's late.

Mr. Lake...Aren't you there?

Mr. Lake...Where's your voice?

Mr. Lake...I need your breath.

Mr. Lake...Don't leave.

Mr. Lake...Are you there?

Mr. Lake...My palms are *****.

Mr. Lake...This is all there is.

Mr. Lake...I can't keep going.

Mr. Lake...Where are you?

Mr. Lake...Set me free.

Maybe I should even try to both be
the sooner you'll get rid of feedback because they're all
Sometimes I should sing most when my state of mind
Not in a set of cards with yoga pose instructions I'm currently going

I'm tired and beautiful and cute
I'm tired and bored out

...

Oh yeah I need all
People are somewhat murky and shallow in order to show you
WHY DO something
I'm tired of being a ****** person.


...


It's really don't wanna impose anything.... But anybody want
...
I'm tired and conflicted.
Ugh I've been wondering about for ice cream to attempt to message certain people
Uck. It say
...
I really don't know
never thought I'd hate for the person
Sometimes I feel and smell of things to do
That's not an ice is weighing me
It's really painful most of the base of personal information about me, or going

...

But eating shrimp feels weirdly like

...

No, everything is predestined to die from embarrassment and/or maybe guilt. But it's just like
That magical feminist is running the only have you
You have a finger at getting people





...






My staircase is bizarrely comfortable to everything ever


Aluk op oal ilcä aäcij ulrü cujy ulsu wäsyn cujy rincy cyykky cujy ürsäüpyu ipuincy kurky jü siij urir cu lina uij rüyl opam suasäcij kyäc kuläypincy di.
That magical feminist is the stuff

I wonder how I got here, secluded in a grimy apartment filled with smoke. We drink gin and tonics with mint like it’s the ‘20s; we sit and talk pop culture because we know. Taj has somehow become the effective authority on all of these things, paid to social network and connected to Hollywood; he’s very skilled at playing to people’s wants. My Cadillac sits intent next to me markering in a recent drawing for his newest class. He’s already famous for his graffiti, one day I’ll bet you this extra credit project will be worth money. He drew me a fox for Christmas. Valentines day is coming up. He never tells me he loves me. Jack is watching me watch him out of the corner of his eye while putting on a new remix of an old song. He leans over and asks if I like it and I nod. I feel bubbled up with *** smoke, frozen in time and vaguely uncomfortable. I’d guess this is what it’s like to be “too high.” I want Caddy to notice, but it’s Jack that’s pushing my hair back and telling me to drink more water. It’s sweet. Despite his need to be seen as a womanizer, Jack respects Caddy too much to even try with me, he looks but he doesn’t put on any faces for me. Everyone thinks so hard about how they’re seen.
Jack says his New Year’s resolution is to do less *******, even though no one asked. Everyone hears but no one reacts. I try to keep moving my toes and stop shivering. Across from me Ky and Nate are reading the encyclopedia in open-mouthed awe. In a room full of intellectual up and comers I feel like Hemmingway did when he was my age, how all the minds gravitate to each other and sit in a ***** room by the beach and let the creativity go. Like Mary Shelly and the whole gang writing Frankenstein and Dracula in the same trip.  After a while I think Taj is going to make it, Jack will be a politician and Caddy will be lost and with another woman. Ky and Nate will still be smoking and reading the encyclopedia, all the way down to ‘z’. I am like my mother: attracting the company of smart successful men who pay her selective attention.
The door burst open and the cold air stayed in my pores after it was closed. Rodger invited himself over. It would have been all right but when Rodger is wasted he forgets his manners. In his animated state he managed to kick over Caddy’s favorite smoking piece, insult Jack and look at me a little too hard. His girlfriend had immediately passed out on the couch, but she never smiled or spoke to me anyway. Her head was cradled in the lap of a girl I hadn’t noticed. Her hair was perfect and her eyes shadowed, the liner and mascara smudging its way slowly onto her high cheekbones. She stared at me but didn’t speak. I tried to smile, but didn’t want to give away the champagne sensation covering my skin, still too up to speak. She had already formed her opinion of me, some young ******* the arm of an older boy. She was once in my position, I’m sure of it, we are the same kind of beautiful and empty eyed. That doesn’t stop her from judging, in the total of 15 seconds she looked at me. Her self is tamed and mine is wild still. Unintroduced and unnoticed by the men in the room, we have an understanding and a mutual dislike of each other, only to defend ourselves.
The room takes time to settle, a bowl has been packed for an entitled Rodger, and now that everyone is calm, Cad sits back down and puts his arm around me again. I lean into him, protected and anchored, whereas I had been floating or about to puke a minute ago. I don’t know what I said but Caddy seemed annoyed when he said “Just let it happen, embrace the feeling,” and so I kept quiet for ten minutes or so. The high was infected with guilt. Next time he looked at me-- it could have been an hour—I whispered, “I can’t” and finally he heard me, and stood up.
Cad came back into my vision with a glass of water and turned on Drive, prompting Rodger, Mrs. Rodger and my pretty enemy to leave. Ky and Nate had gone long before I could focus on noticing. Taj left for trivia night down at the bar and no doubt some girl; wrapped up in a cashmere scarf and cardigan he kissed my cheek before he went. Jack also took his graceful leave with the Rodger group to woo some girl who knew exactly what she was doing to herself. He did have a straight nosed charm, Jack. I could not blame this girl, one of many (I am embarrassed for her; I have been like this ******* many occasions).  
Taj had been sent the advanced copy of Drive in blu-ray, so we snuck it from his room and watched it that way (the only way Taj would see movies now, it is the future (for now)). Kavinsky came through Cad’s new speakers the boys had spent half an hour trying to wire earlier in the night. “They’re taking about you boy/but you’re still the same” crooned Lovefoxxx as Ryan Gosling cruised down a street, ****** intense in driving gloves. Gears shifting and motors growling are very ****, I tell Cadillac so into his ear, as he pulls me into his arms and covers me up with a blanket.
The movie was perfect, maybe because it made me feel less dizzy and sickguilty (Cad knew it would) and maybe because Ryan Gosling can wear a white satin jacket. I loved it, hardly noticing when the absent roommate Travis strolled in with Taj and tacos somewhere around 2am.  Colder as Caddy got up for a burrito, left me alone on the couch for the kitchen table. Registering Taj taking his place, playing with my curls and talking Hollywood to me. I’m staring over at Cad in his chair, he makes eye contact once or twice and I blow him a kiss before Taj repositions my head toward the television and my ear back where he can speak into it.
Eventually Cadillac taps Taj on the shoulder and motions for him to get up. With Cad back I can relax and I fall into sleep just as the movie ends. Taj and Trav have gone to their own beds and Cad leans over me, picks me up and takes me to bed knocking my elbow on the doorframe along the way. He apologizes and kisses my head but I am too tired to care. He lays me down on the bed with crimson sheets and takes off my boots but then sternly says, “Mimi, you are not a child.” and so I must get up and undress myself. He wraps me in a duvet missing its cover and his arms. I trust him long enough to fall asleep.

-

Standing in front of the stove it was hot, but I am easily overheated. He came up behind me and said in my ear, “you’re lovely” watching me put the last piece of French toast on the large stack, getting ready to scramble eggs. He kissed my cheek. Then my neck and then my lips, taking me away from my cooking to be pulled against him, for a sweet short minute and went back to the living room with his friends. Jack had mysteriously reappeared in the night; he said he locked himself out of his apartment after leaving to see one of his girls. Taj just sat and blasted Radiohead over the new speakers, shouting something relevant at me. I scramble the eggs and make up plates, two pieces of toast each and a nice healthy pile of eggs. It is gone very quickly and no one says thank you, except for a smile from Caddy and a kiss on the forehead. It’s usually enough for me, knowing he likes to show me off to his friends. I sit down with my cup of coffee and plate, within a few minutes Cad suggests he takes me home. I resentfully take time to finish my coffee. But we are both busy and he is right, so I say goodbye to the boys and gather my things. We drive with the “best MC on the game these days” (so I am told) over the weak speakers of the car. Cad drives with his arm around me always. Cruising into my building’s parking lot I lean over for a kiss on my forehead, nose, lips. He says go, but his hand still sits on my shoulder so I stay for a little longer. “You’ll probably have to let go of me if it’s time for me to go Cad,” I say quietly, with a tentative smile on my face. He grins back and lifts his arm. I slide out of the suicide seat and smile at him, but he’s looking at the radio dials. Then my face. His eyes give him away, softened around the edges with affection. Maybe love, but he’d never say it and I refuse to say it until he does. I try not to think about it much as he drives away to smoke up again with his friends. I wonder if this is how it will always be, but then I realize our kind of “always” is only the next few months. I turned unsteadily and walked up the stairs to my empty room—dark and overheated smelling heavily of sugar and spice candles-- with the geese outside my window for company. I haven’t slept here for days.

This is a message I received. too similar to the one from "stephanie" to be coincidence. just a heads up.

My name is Roseline,I came across your profile while browsing i was moved
to contact you as I want to know you the more , i will like you to write
to me through my private email address here(roselinederricksylbert@hotmail.com) so that i will send you my
pictures and introduce myself well to you.and i also have some important
information i will like to disclose to you I hope we can move from here
my regards, as I wait for your reply at.
(roselinederricksylbert@hotmail.com) stay blessed.

The Seven - The Mashup


In memory of my mother who passed away recently, I wrote, or intended to write seven (only six were actually done) new poems themed about her, her passing and some perspective on life and death.  All were read and I am deeply appreciative.  I have consolidated them all here, in order, though not necessarily the order in which they were written. But the order does matter, as it reflects the change in my mood with each passing day.   Perhaps I will write the seventh someday, but not now, not soon.

Thank you all so much for incredibly kind words of sympathy. I am not a dweller, so I set myself a goal to complete this vow, this task, in a week to correspond to the seven days of mourning the immediate family observes after the burial (the shiva, shiva meaning 7).  For seven days, the bereaved family "sits shiva," sitting on low, uncomfortable stools and the comforters come to share their grief, praise the deceased, from mourning till late at night

#1 Shiva

I am confused - what day is it?
Windows tell day or night, a necessary but a condition insufficient.
The days have no distinguishing marks, a video stuck on
Repeat - a single track of recollected tales, prayers add a mild seasoning.

Though brief is this week of pre-sentencing hearings,
If one cannot dice the time into portions,
Then, there can be no pardon,
No early release date, from Phase One.

Rinse grief. Repeat. Seven cycles.
Apply stain-stick at the intersection of
Bloodied hurts and dimming memories,
Strangers secreting, spilling on you secrets unwanted.

This play, saw it many decades ago,
Before there was poetry, children.
A young man of twenty one,
Very afraid, silently, of the newest unknown,
His father, cancer won.

I hated it then. Now experienced, I hate it more.
This semi-catharsis, a tapestry tale wove of faded pasts
Twisting an heirloom blade into an old wound,
the original cast, a new revival, playwright, regrettably, deceased...

First time at bat, hid in a small room, away from this tradition.
Beating my head against a wall privately,
That being my preferred manner of mourning,
Not this Broadway show, twice a day, seven days.

Rituals well intentioned, a time tested method,
nonetheless, jail time for me, a/k/a, the boy, the brother.
Familiarity comforts some. Me? A prison uniform.
I write my own poems, I am not a Borg collective.

Cast as Son, my obligations specific, aged.
My Hamlet doublet, cut/torn, messaging my somber status,
The cuts deepest, invisible, but all see this child
Drowning in eye pools that continuously self-replenish.

I'll do the time, this show the longest running ever,
Did forty years as son-shadow of a father-man,
Tacked another concurrent sentence for his woman,
End Date: Indeterminate...

The low stools will reappear, seven days for me,
Yet my job as poet not fully done, until this be read!
Leave 'em laughing o'er this Official Release from the obligatory,
Read, sit but once, read this poem, this script, this story, and be freed.

#2 Hover^

My Children:

Ancestral homes oft possess,
a unique scent, product of an atomizer, a memorizer

Musty time, the odor of
faded and shadow,
hollow, yet hallowed.

Somewhere along the road,
a residence transforms from home to
shrine-storage unit-hospital room-tomb-records depository.

Dust, expired perfumes,
the sweet odor of crumbling, yellowing books, disinfectant,
stale medicine chests, years of furniture polish, sabbath candles.

It is my smell -
the parfumerie of my history, a customized blend,
a commissioned work in 1964, entitled, more accurately, emitted,
"Her-Story."

Photographs, memories, and paper scraps
my very own Preservation Hall Jazz Band.
Yet the most potent firing pin for historical retrieval,
the molecules of scent.

Soon all will be dismantled, discarded,
just plain dis'ed.

Confused and disenchanted,
my departure orderly but, in a disordered fashion.
unable to seed one last kiss upon your forehead,
nonetheless, surreptitiously enter your neurons
though my entity, away, across the miles-wide Hudson River.

For three days, I will hover invisible,
implanting myself once more,
slapping your mucous membranes,
transversing this pathway, an additive to your cells, nuclei,
where my markers always reside.

Adding one more ingredient to your inner vision,
strengthening the formless structure, my altered state.
This odor, keep close, fresh, no becoming musty too, my scent,
the last of your senses knowing me, a true keepsake.

Hold me close and hold me fast.
This one last magic spell I cast.
This one last magic smell I set fast.
You cannot hold it, but it will cradle you.
You cannot see or touch it, but when contact comes,
You will see me, hold me, as in the days of your youth,
When you loved me best,
And I, you.

^According to the Talmud, the soul hovers over the body for three days after death.  The human soul is somewhat lost and confused between death and before burial, and it stays in the general vicinity of the body, until the body is interred.

#3 Orphan

The funeral will commence at 11:30 am.
Gives me one last review time before the
Final Exam.

Panicked, I discover a whole new chapter
for which I am wholly unprepared,
though its inevitable presence was
assuredly knowable long in advance.

Orphan

It doesn't fit, occur, imagery is of a young child to
soon abandoned, not a late-in-life curmudgeonly poet-boy,
who has been multi-times reincarnated.

I add this title to my list
of proper ways to address me,
titles earned by dint of hard work,
or just unlucky luck.

This new status, orphanhood,
bequeaths no special privileges,
other than, a semi-official
societal permission slip
to feel bereft, lost, and compose poetry.

Know a real orphan, from early, early on,
has never recovered and
never will for it is just impossible.
Just impossible.

So whom am I to make light of
my undesired, unrequested new degree?

I accept it and to my surprise,
It hurts.

# 4 Judgement Day

After you put in some time on this planet,
You kinda know what the world thinks
About you, your rep, what they don't say to your face,

Sure, thingies, time and incidence and circumstance
Can sometimes cause makeovers external,
But each of us know the quality of ourselves,
Self-certification, you can out your internal self,
Better than anybody else.

So I inquire of myself, about myself,
what will you be remembered for, if at all?

Why do I ask, today, now?
Do we not ask ourselves this
On the low down, subconsciously everyday?

Is this a poem?
Most assuredly...
And a trial.
You, the judge the jury and the prosecutor,
The defender, if u can, if u will.

For seven days my mother was adjudged,
Family, friends, hers, her children's,
Almost an 80 years of live, in color, HD, looking back video,
Tales told, memories dug up, old photos explicated,
Who what when where of the details of one women's voyages,
Creations.

I cannot, I will not, do the details here.
Suffice, acts of kindness, faith in people,
Feminist in a strange land, a chance taker,
Gifts of memories, streaming of adoration,
Many strangers are witnesses to me,
This trial a runaway train.

I am outed.  There will be no such verdict for me.
I am outed.  There will be no trial needed, just a
Summary judgement delivered.

Out yourself.
What will you be remembered for, if at all?

#5 Summer Girls In Their Summer Clothes

Oh yes!

The streets of Manhattan, jewel dusted,
Summer girls in their  summer clothes,
Bedeck the streets and make men say, Thank You!
To their creator.

Little black dresses, previously immortalized^,
Seasoning and sauces, halter tops and jeans cutoff,
Give thanks for the tanks, revel in the revelations,
For God created man and women in his/her teasingly bare image.

Yo! Dude!  This is number 5 in the series,
Of sad and somber, re dad and mother, ***?
Have you lost perspective, not read the directive,
You're in mourning, time to be introspective,
Not dis-respective!

My mother was a beautiful women.
Till the day she died.
Yes, physically beautiful at 98.

She, was a poem.
For her exterior was suffused, burnished,
By the spirit residing within her body

I ask myself, why not judge a book by its cover?
Her cover was exquisite, but what gave her a glow,
A radiance, was her modesty, her love of humanity.

What's under our cover?

^ Nat Lipstadt · May 30
The Little Black Dress (and its magic prowess!)

*#6 & 7 Live like you're dying

Perhaps you know the lyric, the song?

Live like your dying.
Dying caught my ear, my eye, can't imagine why.
Con-Textual emendation, Natalino style.

Live like your writing.

Yes, that makes sense...
Embrace with passion each new session
Charge every second stanza with ruminating rhythms,
Cut the wires to the air traffic control sensory tower, go solo,
Pulse each word, beat all into a plowshare, even the anger,
Even the hate, dressed to ****, in words, forgivable...

Grant the mundane, the insane, even the pain of tragedy,
You refuse so hardily to glorify, grant it and
Record it all - a moment,
A royal audience with all
Your writing parts.

No fancy footing, keep it simple.
No jesters in rain puddles,
Let images of clouds of sand
Born and perish  in other's eyes and sighs, let verbal games bedevil other
Wooden puppet princes drinking fairy ales.

Huh?

Write clean and clear,
Let the sheerest wonderment of a new combination,
Be the titillation of the tongue's alliteration,
No head scratching at oblique verbal gestation,
Let words clear speak, each letter a speck,
That gives and grants clarification, sensational.

You, afternoon quenching Coronas, white T shirts,
Sun glazes and later, a summer eve's Sancerre,
Wave gazing on the reality of rusted beach chairs,
Babies sandy naked, washed in waves of Chardonnay,
The traffic-filled word-way highways and bay ways,
Exiting at the Poet's Nook, for exegesis & retrieval.

Write of:
Body shakes and juices, skin-staining tongues,
Taking her, afternoon, unexpectedly, her noises your derring-do!
Broken tear ducts, the Off switch, so busted, write about
Real stuff.

Write not in fear of dying
Angels delivering bad news in vacuum tubes,
Write joyous, psalms of loving life,
Live like your writing,
Write like your living,
So you may die well.

Welcome to the land of golden trout

Where black bears roam and hawks still shout

In the eastern Sierras, hills of the west

Tales of the Adventurers and their first test.

Forming an alliance in Santa Cruz

They left together, unwilling to lose.

Packing up and heading down the trail

They knew as a team they would never fail.

Without a moment’s hesitation nor shred of doubt

The crew took their Tools of Tenacity out

And in less than three months flat

The Adventurers finished, exclaiming “that’s that!”


But who composes this mysterious crew?

Wait just one moment, I promise I’ll tell you.

First, there’s Nico the Noble, the leader so fearless

Who also frightens many when he’s not beardless;

Followed by Ben the Benevolent with his hearty laugh

And never without his Capitals hat;

Kahn the Courageous has his wild antics

Telling stories with Buckeye semantics;

Jamie the Just and her vegan ways

Had to eat lentils for most of her days;

See Jen the Jubilant with camera-in-hand

Shaving logs for as long as she can;

The team’s newest member, Maggie the Merciful,

Has now experienced the wilderness in full;

Tim the Wise lacks alliteration, unlike the others

But has chased many cows, some scraping their udders;

And at last there’s me, the Notable Narrator,

So our crew’s legacy can live forever.


In our quest the crew has changed slightly.

Those unable to handle the tasks lightly

Had left- like Mary, Bobby, and Stary the Skeptical

All well-admired, and mostly respectable.


Now let’s shift our story to the work completed

In the struggling meadow, its health near-depleted.

Using fallen trees that have long-since passed

We found a clearing with their numbers quite vast.

Cutting the deceased into sixteen-foot longs

And lugging them over thickets and bogs

Our team stacked them perpendicular

To the stream, or creek, in particular

And in a magician’s “ta-da!” moment

Water rose up to our new component,

Flowing over the freshly-made dam

Then briefly meeting with dirt and sand

At the bottom. Multiplied by thirty

And that was work: rigorous and *****.

But why were the Adventurers sent there,

To build check-dams and do repairs?

It was, in part, human consumption

That led to the meadow’s near-destruction:

America’s insatiable need for beef

Will not, for a long time, see any relief,

So Industry has pushed forward, sending cows to the fields

Grazing and growing to become our future meals.

But little did Industry know how devastating

Hundreds of cattle leave an ecosystem suffocating.

Trampling grass and dispersing banks underhoof

The bovine are easily guilty, there’s so much proof.

Stupid, noxious, and obnoxious creatures

Recognized by these, easily their best features.

Incessantly screaming day and night

They are more like demons by every right.

Yet the Forest Service lets ranchers send

Hundreds of cattle, seemingly without end.

And while the Golden Trout crew fixed things,

It’s not enough to ease the strain the cows will bring.


So what can we do, if anything at all

If we go veggie will Industry stall?

Can the end of beef save the earth

Is society only worried when we gain in girth?

That’s not for me to say right now

It’s up to you to answer the “how?”


But I digress, I must end the story

Of the Adventurers and their summer glories.

In the end they saved the meadow, saved the day

Held the bovine rampage at bay,

Raised water levels, erosion erased,

Then was the time to leave that place.

So the Adventurers hopped in their van,

Eight warriors mean, lean, and tan,

And took off down the mountainside

To Santa Cruz and the oceanside.

Each followed one’s own path

But only after taking many baths.

The Golden Trout legacy will live forever,

Only made possible by the best crew ever.

Pervert

I'm a womanizer and a pervert,
love to mingle, love to flirt.
Like Fonzi, all chicks flock,
they like the size of my clock.
Ever since I was born,
loved naked women and ****.
Nothing like playing with my favorite toy,
with the newest edition of *******.
Sorry I have a ***** little mind,
all men do, women don't be blind.
Lots of women have tried to convert me,
but a fun loving pervert, I will always be.
Been with a ****, been with a *****,
only difference is, the **** wants more.
Been with singers, actresses and models,
done it underwater, with a snorkel and goggles.
Been with a doctor, lawyer and a crook,
each time, I somehow got took.
I'm a pervert it a good way,
just some innocent ****** foreplay.
If you ever see me, I'm not threat,
they haven't invented x-ray glasses yet.
I now have a woman I really love,
all other women, I got rid of,
Gave my black book to a kid named Bieber,
now he's in jail and feeling very eager.

I sit on my back stoop,
alone in the moonless dark
lit only by a window glowing
in my neighbor's new spa room.
Spikey tropical plants.
backlit by warm yellow light
are all I can see
from my vantage point
only yards away.
But my imagination runs
to visions of two lovers
delighting in their newest acquisition,
bathing in clouds
of fragrant steam,
a couple still together.
They have each other,
while I sit alone,
me minus you.

Eileen Auger
4/4/2010

Solemnly and silent
In subtleties she calls to me
Falling into my heart caverns
And running through my veins
Through my body
And where I am she’s close to me
Exuding watercolor dreams
Like a painter reacquainting me
With once greyish reality
And every morn, I hear her sing
In voice that constructs melody
As if to say to newest sun
To shine ever still
All subconsciously
And I would follow lyrically
Each instruction as they ring
Like notes in my mind harboring
This subtle, silent calls to me

When I was seventeen, my favorite color was blue
We humans haven't been able to see the color blue until recently in our vast evolution
and seeing it now doesn't make us profound but it's a step in the right direction
Then the list began forming
What else am I seeing less of
My friend is by her bed sobbing at his soul's departure
and all I see is her heart's defeat
All she sees is the victory
that means
no more blue battered skin
no more concealing the outbursts of her mother-in-law's
single worst living and breathing regret,
no more blue skies watched from the window, stuck inside
But I just tell her that I'm sorry for her loss
Because I couldn't yet see her shade of blue
Her face was drifting
So I reached for the ocean and let it rock me away
Tell me a story
while I fall asleep to your baptizing sway
about the teal touch of a careful hand
the stark blue strike of a lover
and the midnight blue comfort of the house you grew up in
I want to tap into my synesthesia and hear your every word colored with your every pain, your every joy, and your every breath
I want us to see each other as we are,
not as we would like to be
Our blue veins sustain our lives
and our blue hearts aren't to be hidden aside
Let's stand in this wide ocean of many shades of blue and let us see it all

Weeks past
Having no motivation to pick myself up
The universe smiled upon me
And sent a boy with his head in the stars.

Blank
My mind draws a blank.
Having burnt my past I'm speechless
My heart races and I can feel my face flush
An unexplainable sensation overpowers my body.
Starting over.

Its almost as if the frozen winter forged a blank slate
And the affections from this boy melted away everything...
The rush, the butterflies, it all feels new again.
Like I have never fallen in love before


My new sensations are accompanied by a changed mindset
I was truly a new person.
Memories from past loves
Cannot compare to my heart's newest obsession
Such sweet words...
Sugar coated but genuine.
Everything...
His gaze, his walk, his talk
It all makes my heartache
My tongue is tied as he showers me in compliments

Oh his eyes
The way he looks at me and tells me I'm beautiful
I feel as if im drowning
But why?
I'm an experienced lover and swimmer.
But the fog caused by his intoxicating scent makes my past seem ages ago.
Why is this all so fresh...

My thoughts are spinning
And before I can even ask my mind for advice
We're dating.
I was following my heart entirely.

I'm so stunned
It's as if I was wiped clean of my past (and confidence)
Starting over.....again.
Never thought it would feel so
Natural

And so the winter trudges on
His arms around me keeping the fire alive
Snuggling while watching Star Wars
Fueling each other's passions.
I would have never guessed my fate just a month earlier.
Thanks universe.