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Molly Smithson May 2014
You start trouble, Ovaries. You usually cause:
“I just got my period,” or
“I haven’t gotten my period,” or
“ I have the worst cramps.”
But you’re complicated. We don’t really think about that.
I’m here to say, Ovaries, your trouble is of importance.

You’re part of our own big bang theory.
Some people think it’s a religious miracle,
Most just figure it’s pure science,
But in a way we most don’t understand
You mixed your matter with its male and made a
Completely unique planet.
Earth’s atmosphere could be all Carbon Dioxide,
And my sister could be blonde with a sweet disposition.

Matter can’t be wasted, just changed, and I don’t think
Your eggs are either.  I estimate sixty eight of my oocites, my essence
(those are unfertilized eggs, like the ones sold in a store)
are floating in sewer systems through the US and Limoges France too.
Ovaries, there’s no need to worry: that’s sixty eight out of a million
In each of you! I couldn’t waste you if I tried.

Before the internet or on-demand TV or iPhone apps
You figured out how to sift through the most complex data in the world:
Millions of options of human DNA. How do you pick?
You’re the Netflix of humanity.
You’ve chosen people of all roles for us to watch, to love, to care about.

I waited for your faucet to switch on until I was thirteen, ovaries.
Now I wait, usually with dread, but sometimes with a little hope,
For the drop that’ll turn some water and flour into leavening dough.
Kara Rose Trojan Dec 2014
My Second Letter to Allen Ginsberg
Dear Allen,
Almost five years ago, I wrote you a letter, and in
That letter, I purged my drunkenly woeful cries
That seem so first-world now and naïve –
The things I grimed over with luxuries I didn’t
Realize that rubbed against my plump limbs
Like millions of felines poised at the
Tombs of pharaohs.

Oh, Allen, I’m so tired –
These politics, and poly ticks, so many ticks that
Annoy my tics. Allen! I smear your name so liberally
Against this paper like primer because the easiest way
To coerce someone into listening to you like
A mother
or predator
tugging or nibbling on your ear –
Swatches of velvet scalped from a ****’s coat
Are you and I talking to ourselves again?
Candid insanity : Smoky hesitance.

Dear Allen, I’m so tired –
Yes, I love wearing my ovaries on the outside like
Some Amazonian soapbox gem glistening from beneath
The iron boots of what the newspapers tell me while
I cough at them with the hurdled delicacies of alphabet soup.
Give vegetables a gender and call them onions, Allen.
Sullied scratch-hicks pinioned feet from slapping
Society’s last rung on the ladder.
Ignore the swerve of small-town eyes.
Scapulas, stirrups, pap smears, and cervical mucus – now do you know who we are?

That fingernail clipped too short, Allen. We’ve all got AIDs
And AIDs babies, haven’t you heard? Hemorrhaging from the political
****** and out – they haven’t reached the heart.  
Since when have old white men given a **** about some
13 year old’s birth control? I’m riding on the waves of the
Parachute game and I swear this abortion-issue is just a veil outside Tuskegee University
Being further shove over plaintive eyes, swollen and black.
Pay up and
shut up.

I still remember my first broken *****, Allen.
Can you tell me all about your first time?
The vasodilatation that made veins rub against skin,
Delirious brilliance : unfathomable electricity.
I made love during an LSD experience, Allen,
And I am not sorry. I see cosmic visions and
Manifest universal vibrations as if this entire world is
A dish reverberating with textiles and marbles, and
All are plundering the depths of the finished wine
Bottle roasting in the sink like Thanksgiving Turkey.
The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.
The opening, between you and you, occupied,
zoned for an encounter,
given the histories of you and you—
And always, who is this you?
The start of you, each day,
a presence already—
Hey, you!

Ah, Allen, if you are not safe, then I am not safe.
And where is the safest place when that place
Must be someplace other than in the body?
Am I talking to myself again?
You are not sick, you are injured—
you ache for the rest of life.

Why is it that I have to explain to my students that
sometimes what I'm spouting is prescribed by a pedagogical pharmacy --
but all they want to know is "what do the symbols on the television mean?"
I am completely aghast against the ghosts of future goners --
I am legitimately licensed to speak, write, listen like some mothers --
I am constantly cajoling the complex creations blamed on burned-out educators --
I am following the flagrant, fired-up "*******"s tagging lockers --
Pay up and
shut up.

Yes, and it’s Hopeless. Allen.
Where did we get off leaping and bounding into
The dogpile for chump change jurisdiction, policing
The right and the left for inherent hypocrisies when
Poets are so frightful to turn that introspective judgment
Upon ourselves?
We didn’t see it coming and I heard the flies, Allen.
Mean crocodile tears. Flamingo mascara tracks
Up and down : up and down: bow – bow – bow – bow
Buoyant amongst the misguided ******* floating around
In the swirlpool of lackadaisical introspection.
What good is vague vocab within poetry?
Absolutely none.
Would you leave the porchlight on tonight?
Absolutely, baby.

Dear Allen, would you grow amongst the roots and dirt
At the knuckles of a slackjawed brush of Ever-Pondering Questions
Only to ask them time-and-time-and-time-and-time-again.
Or pinch your forehead with burrowed, furrowed concentration upon those
Feeble branches of progression towards something that recedes further
And further with as much promise as the loving hand
Attempts to guide a lover to the bed?

Allen, I wish to see this world feelingly through the vibrations of billions of bodies, rocking and sobbing, plotting and gnashing like the movement of a million snakes, like the curves collecting and riding the parachute-veil.

Ah, Allen! Say it ain’t so! Sanctified swerve town eyes.
And everything is melting while poets take the weather
Too personally
And all the Holden Caulfields of the world read all the
*******’s written on the walls and all the Invisible Men
Eat Yams and all the Zampanos are blind and blind
And blind and blind and blind and blind
Yet see as much as Gloucester, as much as Homer,
As much as Oedipus.

Oh, Allen, do you see this world feelingly
and wander around the desert?
Colored marbles vibrating on the curtailed parachute paradox.
Lamentation of a small town’s onion. Little do we know, Allen,
That what you cannot see, we cannot see, and we are bubbling
Over in the animal soup of the proud yet weary. I can see,
However, how the peeled back skulls of a million
Workboots and paystubs may never sully the burden
Of an existential angst in miniscule amounts.
Pay up and
shut up.  

My dearest Allen, there is always a question of how
The cigarettes became besmirched with wax to complement
What was once grass, and
What was once a garish night drenching doorknobs.
The night's yawn absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle
To the sun ready already to let go of your hand
As you stepped, quivering, on to
The shores of Lethe.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I am taken from Yunann to the
coastal Province of Fujian, where
boats sail fair as fishermen fish. I
land by a pond with waters cascading
down boulders and rocks as old as
time itself.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
But even though there are trimmed
and hale blades of green, there is a
single flora, the corona of the water
Not the chrysanthemum with its svelte,
curling petals of the gelid transition
from the crimson leaves of autumn
kissed by the rathe winters.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Instead it is a single fuchsia lotus
bud,a pristine and graceful soul
unperturbed by murked waters.
As I get a closer look, the lotus
open slowly into full bloom and
with it, the golden essence -
ethereal, a star that throbs like
a heaven's dream, and it appears -
the phoenix.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Its plumage a brilliant shade of
red-gold, and wings and long tail
beset by iridescent streaks and jewels.
Slim-legged, clawed feet of a deep azure
and eyes, such a blight blue-green.
Looking to the sky, it releases such
a melodious cry and a star falls
a throbbing silver-white. It glides
to my hands and it is revealed,
another glorious Pearl Moon.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a peck of its beak, the Moon
cracks once more and my nose is
besieged by leaf pellets scented o'er
and o'er with fresh jasmine blossoms.
Seaweed green with licks of marigold
and shaped after the Phoenix's hot
eye.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Unlike the Dragon's Pu'erh pearls,
this aroma is dainty in its sweet floral
with a kiss of green; I can taste the sugar!
Velveteen on my tongue! A brew worthy
of chosen Kings and Queens. I notice that
the light of the Phoenix begins to fade.
As our eyes meet, it cries once more, a
sweet and happy cry born of Elysia,
before it fades away in gust of wind.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The lotus petals fall off and float,
becoming soft rose-kissed boats;
the leaves have yellowed, browned
and wilted. All that remains is a
dry stamens but I see that the
ovaries are beginning to
flourish...

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Ahh,' my eyes now open, dazed,
'The Phoenix Eye pearls. Such a
fine golden liquor you will become!'
Anihana smiles, 'Indeed, My Lady.'
'I assume the final batch is its twin
sister?'
'Yes, My Lady. Jasmine, Green and
Lily pearls.' Anihana places the
burr-oak caddy down to grab the
caddy maple-wood.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Each pearl, all laboured with love,' I
coo. 'Such fresh tender herbs rolled into
blessed pearls that are either fermented
or sit with it's blossoming flowers for
many days and nights. Cover the Pu'erh
and the Jasmine Lily. I wish to be cleansed
by the Phoenix Eyes.'
'Yes, Sweet Queen.'
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Part five of my Jasmine Pearls free verse!
Enjoy! ^-^
Lyn ***
JJ Hutton Dec 2010
be my second chance at life,
be my sun,
get into my orbit,
crash into my atmosphere,
let me paint your teats on canvas,
let me be the hot water in your bath,
I don't care if the metaphor is broke,
just get the **** over here,

the distance is inhumane.
I'm sorry kiddos
Sarina May 2013
Against the lavender of a Capricorn:
less chubby at age fourteen than at eighteen,
produced at the wrong time.

Her stars are their least private in December,
moths pick up ovaries and eggs
from below her dress
left behind from relationship number one.

A lesbian curse, no offspring
for her girlfriend was a Capricorn spirit too.

A nymph who took ten seconds to leave
though eight years to disappear:
nurses say, “it just hurts for a moment,”
but needles ruin your whole ******* week.

But out of two Capricorn women,
one is sure to get pregnant.

The first’s not heard of powdered milk,
nor would she have any,
calcium-deficient so others break her bones.

She has a cabinet of amber orbs
held with sickly insects, a million years old
and brown hair in like tiny ***** of yarn.
Some parts of a person can belong to another.

This was not their cornflower-eyes
but an ability to bear child from straight ***
female parts tangled like herbs and stars.
Albert had an ARTHRITIC knee
which gave him curry

The core of a BOIL is oft hard
to extract

Yesterday June experienced
a server stomach CRAMP

Too much dry weather
can cause the outer DERMAL layer to peel

Never read in a poorly lit room
for you'll have EYE strain

After eating spicy pickles
dad had bad FLATULENCE

Some twenty eight years ago
my friend Helen had her GALLBLADDER removed

They say that a glass of water
will stop HICCUPS

From end to end
our INTESTINAL tract is thirty foot long

On Sunday afternoon John
broke his JAW playing football

Some people have
very boney KNUCKLES

One of my work colleagues
is prone to getting LARYNGITIS

Colin suffers terribly
with MIGRAINE headaches

Sometimes people tend
to endlessly NAVAL gaze

A woman's OVARIES need to be checked
on a regular basis for any abnormalities

The PANCREAS secrets a hormone
known as insulin

QUININE once was extensively used
in the treatment of Malaria

Since my sister has put on weight
she cannot find her RIBS

The STIRRUP bone lies
within one's ear

Dan Aykroyd the famous comic star
has webbed TOES

Should you bump your ULNA bone
it may give you reason to groan

The VARICOSE VEINS is great aunt Ruby's legs
were very pronounced

Does anyone know of a good remedy
for unsightly WARTS

At our local hospital
we have an antiquated X-RAY machine

As tiredness and weariness sets in
one YAWNS quite a lot

****** ZOSTER can make
a person constantly itch
Tuesday Pixie Feb 2015
Redundant sexless girl
Unable to fulfill your biological purpose
The species will not continue
- Not from your *****.
Your womb is dried up
The monthly cleanse broken
Interrupted
Your ovaries cry out-
The rain does not come
The rain does not come
The rain does not come

To wash away the old
Prepare for the
Coiling, growing, emerging
The innocence to be birthed
And spoiled by this world's evil.
Redundant sexless girl
Drained of life-giving blood
Drained of nurturing power
Drained of womanhood
Redundant sexless girl
Barren girl
What use have you?
What purpose?
What right have you to still walk this most fertile Earth?
My friend was diagnosed with poly-cystic ovaries, this is something of what was going through her mind. Though, I do think this really applies to our society's general attitude towards elderly people too.
The title was kind of a play on the movies and books which require people to mate for the continuation of the human species. I'm not sure if it really works but it's all I can think of right now haha.
1975 Art Institute is tactic for Odysseus to put off dealing with real world also investigate range of visual techniques gay instructor fruitlessly endeavors to ****** him he enjoys several affairs with beautiful girls yet Bayli haunts him main building of school is connected behind Art Institute of Chicago Odysseus spends lots of time looking at paintings Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” Gustave Caillebotte’s “Paris Street Rainy Day” Ivan Albright’s “Portrait of Dorian Gray” Jackson *******’s “Greyed Rainbow” Georgia O’Keeffe’s “Black Cross New Mexico” Francis Bacon’s “Figure with Meat” Pablo Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist” Balthus’s “Solitaire” Claude Monet’s “Stacks of Wheat” Paul Cezanne’s “The Bathers” Vincent Van Gogh’s “Self-Portrait” Edouard Manet’s “The Mocking of Christ” Henri Toulouse-Lautrec’s “At the Moulin Rouge” Robert Rauschenberg’s “Photograph” Mary Cassatt’s “The Child’s Bath” Peter Blume’s “The Rock” Ed Paschke’s “Mid America” Grant Wood’s “American Gothic” Jasper John’s “Near the Lagoon” and John Singer Sargent James McNeill Whistler Diego Rivera Marsden Hartley Thomas Eakins Winslow Homer his 2nd year at Art Institute involves student teaching during day then at night working as waiter at Ivanhoe Restaurant and Theater gay managers teach him to make Caesar salad tableside and other flamboyant tasks wait staff are all gay men once more Odysseus experiences bias from homosexual regime he is assigned restaurant’s slowest sections it bothers him the way some gay men venomously condescend women and their bodies Odysseus loves women especially their bodies he thinks about how much easier his life would be if he was gay in 1976 the art world is managed by gay curators gay art dealers he wonders if he could be gay yet not realize it can a person be gay but not attracted to one’s own ***? Ivanhoe hires variety of night club acts one night he watches Tom Waits perform on piano in lounge Odysseus feels inspired in 1977 he graduates with teacher’s certification he considers all the sacrifices teachers make and humiliating salaries they put up with he does not want to teach candidly he feels he has nothing yet to teach teaching degree was Mom’s idea Odysseus wants to learn grow paint after Art Institute he flip-flops between styles his artwork suffers from too much schooling and scholastic practice it takes years to find his own voice he has tendency to be self-effacing put himself down often he will declare what do i know? i’m just a stupid painter one topic artists do not like talking about is their failures how much money they cost creation requires resource paint and canvas can be expensive how much money is spent on harebrained ideas that never pan out? most artists resort to cheap or used materials few can afford their dreams he gets job selling encyclopedias that job lasts about 5 weeks then he finds job selling posters at framing store on Broadway between Barry and Wellington Salvador Dali Escher Claude Monet prints are the rage his manager accuse him of lacking initiative being spacey after several months he gets laid off he finds job waiting tables during lunch shift at busy downtown restaurant other waiters are mostly old men from Europe they play cards with each other in between shifts teach Odysseus how to carry 6 hot plates on one arm and 2 in his other hand the job is hectic but money is good experience educates differently than books and college a university degree cannot teach what working in the real world confronts people learn most when they are nobodies he reads Sartre’s “Being And Nothingness” he wants to discover who he is by finding out who he is not often he rides bicycle along lakefront taking different routes sometimes following behind an anonymous bicyclist possibly to come across new way he does not know or to marvel at another person’s interest

truth is this life is too difficult for me the violence hatred turf wars tribalism laws judgments practices rules permits history i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world i’m sorry am i repeating myself i apologize i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world god please protect teach me strength courage fairness compassion wisdom love i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world

buy divinity purchase devotion earn reward points own 4 bedroom loft with roof garden deck porch pool parking in paradise’s gated community pay for exclusive membership into sainthood become part of inner circle influence determine fate destiny of everything step up to the plate sign on the line immortalize yourself feel the privileges of eternal holiness i’m living inside a nightmare inside a nightmare inside a nightmare hello? i am dizzy in my own self-deceptions lost in my own self-deceptions alone in my own self-deceptions there was a time once but that time is gone there was a place once but that place has vanished there was a life once but that life is spent remember when things were different truth is i’m weak skittish anxious alienated paranoid scared to death pagan idiot stop

breath deeply push stale air out imagine kinder more respectful loving world please god do your stuff angels throw your weight around clean up this mess planets align stars shine ancient spirits raise your voices magic work there are words when spoken can change everything words rooted to spiritual nerves if voiced in  particular order secret passwords capable of setting off persuasions in the mind threads to the heart if a person can figure out which words what order tone of voice rate of pronunciation time of day then that person can summon powers of the supernatural Isis goddess of celestial sway of words whisper secret earth water fire air reveal your alchemy winter spring summer autumn teach about passages patterns sublime eastern western sun fickle moody moon unveil your heavenly equation north south east west  beat the drums blow winds show the path to healing path of the heart blood dirt hair *** bare the mystery of your trance dance the ghost dance sacred woman with ovaries cycles flow smell beautiful girl eyes sweetness strange awkward skinny scruffy boy great bear spirit bird jumping fish wise turtle where are you why is there no one to back me? jean paul sartre what was your last thought before you died? was it nausea? nothingness? or a wish?
Vale Luna Jul 2017
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought
The predisposition
To put my hand down my pants
At the age of seven
But with a good berating
From my unconditionally loving mother
The putrid seed was recognized
Its stem ripped from my mind
Torn from my *******
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice that the roots still tangled around me
Its vines growing up into my ******
The **** that encapsulated my mentality
So the birds and the bees were my friends
At the age of nine
And that cute boy across the playground
Was cuter when I envisioned him naked
Only a mere three years later
And my susceptibility
Ignited the sight of cybersex
The capital ***
Or more commonly known as *******
But when my parents soon discovered
The poisonous vines of dependency
The toxic ivy of addiction
It was forced to an abrupt halt
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice the compulsive *******
That kicked in with the involuntary lust
For a pillow to trust under my hips
Before the age of fourteen
Securing the hypersexuality
So that the hot girl in the hallway
Was hotter when I envisioned her naked
And hotter than the boy next to her
So the bisexuality
Tormented my already demented desires
By the age of sixteen
Simply because
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought.
Kaitelka; Whale Mongolic down, first whale which said syndrome, evidenced by their presence, as didgeridoo, as spitting but more hypersonic, hyper cetacean moving his tail, Burguete funds, learned to swim faster than anything, but the Nautilus, not He paid attention to his mother in his care skills, but bad luck that can befall if not moderate their exalting and allergic omitted cases to obey.

So all blue, but little Kaitelka, seeking friendship among their peers, but he put  a tambourine limit gave him leftovers and liked more than a day a thousand years of perfect instincts. So step aside by the fire, and dodged the deafening roar of nymph Satinga; the most ancient senator of the headpiece, always full on its plateau of ******* hydrochloride that resistance, if they pass a thousand years and I do not understand these pairs, I adjusted my engine, but to no avail me, my instincts are diluted and slim as downpour edges left by the wayside in infants and solfa. That Jesus Light was said behind the screen rainbow arch, he takes her hand to Kaitelka, and back by the outer estuary, they attack by instinct ministry of evil.

Mildew petrified oaks, disorients the abject warty troughs the disordering of the genetic instinct, if I have to pause my essence, I leave in the hands of Joshua stone from beyond. Where the ticket is worth more to me, but I get the same. Where evil knows well, but tasteless well. Underground, underwater., Kaitelka take any more, wheels come and go, instinct taking shredding herbs near the sea, no longer separates me more. Bright the famous day that rebukes my dreams rather than a whole, plastering, or monument flash highborn of Mongolic loves whales, classless or inheritances acquired record. Kaitelka and in gratitude to accompany my walk, to the junction of Lisbon, walking from room to room, to begin the pilgrimage, his steps were Glup, Glup like a pretty varmint, over the hills she is beginning to the descritery of Satinga, or rather the descritery of Sapiens Hommo, rummaging instinct of love today, then unloved. Native forests make pairings, but separate links non-energy cataclysms, similar to the new alliance valley radial wave, tuned cetacean sonar power can be glimpsed.

The Ministry of Evil is no end to the retrospective marvel at Noe, Isaac or Abraham, or Luther King, is the delayed form of unsettled muscle primo Evo madding to neo Evo updated, and neither bells sound the same, as reboot gray phthisis diseases degenerate and synthetic. The instinct to put your hands into the fire will be lost ..., so more pace to the back of them cutting the seas in arithmetical divisions, if commend my antidepressants depressive relatives, caress the sea in each constipated solstice, I go every night with daisies in my hands defying every cliff, every cave turned into a tavern, killing instinct, when the brain is nothing, sprayed kerosene on stage, to see my beloved before he dies of a blowgun.  

Joshua Stone and Bernardolipus in a crossroad, spin the grazing, the black sheep, is barren, its classic label of Segregated debased soul, but defecated humanoid comment sing out of tune the territory themselves.  Three-step, three-way, Joshua embraces Bernardolipo. Welcome starts. Satinga you slice ferns and wild beast, vomits both diazepams swallowed, do not sleep, dreams transpose half orb. Halos, half halos, iridescent arcades, and warm breezes, must preamble Donated high liking. Soft and warm look, I do not lose my plate potato near my belly, warm adobe cellar. Nymph Satinga of reaction in reaction out of tune and the highlights midwife psoriasis for its reddish dermis by a fungus worming. The re instinct starts to chew his skull, dread end of the border. The cookies Lord is sending us on napkins.

Pre urbane figure born, they appear a hundred suns, so the crowd out who has the audacity to reveal the discrete enigma, the puzzle while the floor moves the seizure ... all stunned waiting for the flash Ritual to start the preliminary stage, the paradigm of unshelled trees, tough tables roll by the church at the foot of flowers crocuses scrolls flat estate. For the baptistery inscrutability warmth your network back double halo on the moon, scrub that level. Abyss where I fall near aspire to the coachman, I go away over time from heaven minute no second in hours where the avalanche of time lose my look to hold any deity that does not prevent the tendency to lose those not facing front, a day like this you do not walk any shadow, nor the Horcondising I would like to Santorini. The Borker wrongheaded, burning a cigar in rib Kaitelka, it provides a stunning scream as the end of the world, giving birth to the sky his beautiful breeding, as a good omen to present to the crowd in the Octagon and pleased transit day often fruity crestfallen fig.  

Adelimpia,  Strongly taken the and Thunder Aunt, washed in the backroom their aprons with Christmas, whose magical and enlightening sense, they were the Three Wise Princes, sons of the same kings of Israel. Sitting on some cobs, heritages from last wheel spikes. On warm evenings mantra Baba Nam Kevalam, I do not stay alone without others to see this magical high flood flow mention aversion in pontificates, necessary, pal meal with wine apocalyptic pale rider, Napoleonic soldier dethroned.

Thousands of hectares grassland in loving with heavenly muddy, as adhering to the force of Sorcery Camphor to move everything to the midnight launch eclipse. Thousands of hectares squirts do not possess any extension ratio, giddiness master eye, losing possession. What is Slice is Caren Lagoon, which is Alhué Village is Polulo mountain near the place, what Pichi of Barrancas... Out of my roles temple or regulators, as night plans still dating Jack, with overall equidistant to all orphan girl lost in the jungle inbenign . Cutting room of breath begins threshing., afar put the trays, and poor saint not to attend, this clever move, all atheists bruised, stiff and deprived of the worst failure smoothness, it´s the earth not plowed,                    
              
Dreams whistles hills ... Ghosts and spurs  ... Elegy opaque optical floors, all at Aunty Thunder dream the same...

If you can call night, inland sea waves have to educate infant’s tsunamis, they live among geological forces off the coast of scudding clouds of ... where she cuts through. Where our conscience, should play down a Machiavellian zero to roll it to the belly of the whale down. Their heavy udders milk, as long as a wild bird dueled, mounted in their beards, but the bird slips for his little body often and disadvantaged, to fall into the enzyme flash neuron meditatively; aspiring meditatively. While tsunamis grow, the mountains grow, decreases Hommo sapiens, conscience, he has left, minus zero exiled to the **** pony pens, to create their neighborhood over the eyes of a pupil of warty lameness. Reborn storm, stately power, Nymph Hetaira, who seduces the ringer smith, golden horseshoe, pal new millennium. His no longer harp, sewing lips ant, threading needles Grandma milking herbs get a grotto, families abandoned, shrill understatement by the echoes of the West, for you my Transients soliloquy turbid straightening of holistic aqueous molecules who want to sleep in my hands.

Good beverage, good consciousness nursery. Sleepily he walks by the barbed wire of stupid sort of busybody in thickness bolognese, or bandoneon, pilaster grandson male, to Vizcaya sailing or North Toscana, where after a barricade, Piedmont jumps to the south under Pichi.

They are falling water molecules on Maitén tree, or Tomato Adelimpia bow, and on the fibrous and head hair grass grandmamma Anna. Junks greet Bernardolipo, which was fishing with his wounded eyes, but the rub his mouth on the back of Kaitelka, calcium verve in carrousel turned. Line up the right hand, bottled lady Juana, he stretched to crush cilantro, but no ... or both...

Reigns for ?, to allocate a stop along the way, West Side Story Pichi. We are a few steps from misting dawn of propionate Stoics lash the oppressed people, clear water, singing  ... neuron in neuron, the cell last neuron, with the bow remained foul-mouthed, to shuffle, or Kawashkar Chilean Indian the slice of the leg, looking shoe children who roam the street without a blanket. They close their eyes, tears of shame. Here you are ecstatic stiffs arrows bows, feathers swaying in edgings shields tangled, hordes of haggard eyes flamed flames that no impudence and, which limp to a scoundrel that stuns resistant to fall on the sand. Show your dream, that dream bathe.

Continues the fierce Primor, falls brochures from red heaven fall prayers stammering to advance on this land saga, fall rustic donatives of grandmamma Mayor of coelum, Joshua insomniac in his tabernacle, defoliating his tome skip and jump down the estuary, before every misstep, holy water to step, a smile the Loica rural place Or a caress to the cheek moon in the arms of a blackbird, manacled to a rasp, stove teapot levitating top where grandmamma Adelimpia wheezes. Hail Mary ever ******, the other day, I heard that in September, flapping fall on Fiddler praise, perhaps mediate, for bad talking, founder of my undying love of life joined empty verbs on clovers where I to live forever, pre, pre paella prize moaning on my shoulder osteoarthritis crucifying collapsed tree. Nightmare builds a ship to reach Legion Mary. Centerfold, guns, howitzers, dissident’s ovaries ... final pages, declamatory winds ... perhaps agonizing leg expectantly... Or delusional feet of premature mortality, which brought pray to heaven, earth ... at soon I have to forget. The earth gives me the cheese, and bread sandwiching it goes...

Between him and earth coelum I doze my motive piece body, my shepherd Beetle Maximilian of Auschwitz sprayed me holy water the Vistula, I kneel down my hinges, and my hands for pray by pure attained effort, ***** great feat, who believes fall the abyss, and just below the earth tremulous, bell, first-throat yawning, loose cassock sounds a rainy morning, falling in the forest priority to see all morning, brimming with couplets of snow.

Continue to fall aqueous molecules, Kaitelka divides the estuary waters. Sheets of – Talami rural high lawns and wise water, South of  Pichi. Follow the dream, and just needed to uprighted the cabin, roaring gallop, wake up tomorrow morning sweaty dancing aqua, font of Lourdes, the four simultaneously open their headlights eyes, unblinking as echoes swimming duck feeding their young in the obsidian lagoon. Rock palafitte a piece of coal painted black each carriage serene, going from the Cantillana Mountain. Blasphemes morning fall roe bellowing wind annoyed tongue, windless striding through the window, thunderbirds mistress thousand flanks, now mount the besieged strands of colloidal solid. Elegy, opaque optical dreams, and drovers days nearsighted, soon saved our lives...

The never End.
hiperverb and imaginery poetry, based upon the eternal endless realistic living and non  logic  retoric literature.
copyrigth JOSE LUIS CT  2018
There is nothing wrong with being attracted to beauty
it is a beautiful thing
magnetics and irony
amethyst and memories
black fist of power
proud ovaries breathe melanin magic
hearts of silk spun
resilience is narcissistic too
you know
revolution can declare martial law too
maybe it already did
you would not know yet
the coal used to be us
now we are diamonds
stolen from the earth because of our sheen
our glimmer stuns the most magnificent darkness
a teal sunset sparks the imagination
hallucinating smoking quartz
http://www.amazon.com/Escape-Liberty-Elan-Gregory-ebook/dp/B01B8XQYBG?ie=UTF8&keywords;=elan%20gregory&qid;=1459178234&ref;_=sr_1_1&sr;=8-1
zebra Nov 2021
I've been reading a lot of nonsense about ****** objectification, like objectification is some kind of moral transgression. It's not, unless you want to indict others and yourself for thought crimes.
The term objectification is unfortunately mistaken as a stand in for ****** exploitation. 
 
 Objectification, for some, makes us feel attractive and desired, that we are beautiful, that we attract love and admiration, that we are recognized for our magnetism by strangers. That's certainly one of the motives for working out, watching the waistline and dressing well. 
For others it is about the understandable resistance of an unwanted approach, gaze, or suggestive body language, and while it may create within us a feeling of resistance, it is inherent in the human drama that has always been a part of us and, of course, these two experiences are not mutually exclusive.
But one thing objectification is not, is ****, manhandling, or ****** exploitation. We are all human beings, irrespective of our gender, ****** preferences or ****** sensibilities, with a commonality of desires for love and passion, and while we need to respect each other, we also don't do ourselves and others any favors by being to distressed or rabid about feeling another's heat for us.
Many of us are a great swooning web that wants to swallow and be swallowed in lust and love in search of a special someone, a kind of pre-objectification, for the purpose of future recognition.
****** OBJECTIFICATION is described as "the act of treating a person solely as an object of ****** desire". Objectification more broadly means treating a person as a commodity or an object, without regard to their personality or dignity:  sometimes referred to as "the zipless ****", a phrase coined by Erica Jong in the book "Fear of Flying". As described by her: -"It is a ****** encounter between strangers that has the swift compression of a dream and is seemingly free of all remorse and guilt. It is absolutely pure, there is no power game and it is free of ulterior motives". It has also been described as the perfect one night stand.
She cumed like a cinematic hissing pillow of flames
 
 The point of confusion is that the concept of objectification is mistaken for exploitation, and while sometimes associated, they are radically distinct from one another. Objectification is a DNA-driven biochemical prime directive to create .
Wetter than an otters pocket
 
****** EXPLOITATION: is a crime, meaning taking ****** advantage of another person without effective consent, and includes, without limitation, causing or attempting to cause the incapacitation of another person in order to gain a ****** advantage over such other person; causing the prostitution, or trafficking of another person; recording, photographing or transmitting identifiable images of private ****** activity or knowingly and intentionally exposing another person to a significant risk of a sexually transmitted infection.
OBJECTIFICATION: 
When we find another attractive, the brain has a tendency to flip out in a kind of eclipse as in a black out, like an electrical short perhaps, causing physical symptoms like heart rate increase, asinine nervous talking, sweaty palms, dry mouth, jumpy stomach, hot flashes, or more broadly speaking in a confused gibberish inspired by a spectacular entrancement of obsessive haywire desire. Objectification is the first door we walk though when we recognize our desire for another.
HYPOTHALMUS: part of the brain plays a masterful role in this, stimulating the production of the *** hormones testosterone and estrogen from the ****** and ovaries While these chemicals are often stereotyped as being "male" and "female," respectively, both play a role in men and women. As it turns out, testosterone increases libido in just about everyone. The effects are less pronounced with estrogen, but some women report being more sexually motivated around the time they ovulate, when estrogen levels are highest, which is why men tend to be more sexually aggressive. Women who are introduced to Testosterone for the purpose of body-building or gender change are often astonished by the huge uptick of libidonous desire.
Eeeeek, I could eat you like cherry pie !!!!!
"According to a team of scientists led by Dr. Helen Fisher at Rutgers, desire is broken down into three categories: lust, attraction, and attachment. Each one of these attributes is characterized by its own set of hormones activated by the brain"
LUST… Is driven primarily by Testosterone and Estrogen
ATTRTACTION… dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin motivate attraction
ATTACHMENT… oxytocin and vasopressin mediate attachment.
LOVE…When combined these three take us from us from pure objectification to the wholly trinity of love. ~~~~~
ARE YOU OBJECTIFYING ME
are you objectifying me?
i can bench 300 lbs. ten times
I'm a rich artist with a graduate degree
sun tanned
good teeth
driving a new BMW six series
with a rag top
big keen blue eyes
like a pretty girl
wavy hair
smooth *****
seven inch *****
nice ***
with the tender heart of a poet 
and a square jaw
want to wine and dine you
always smiling
bay *** kisses
silky tee shirts
Hawaiian 
luau vacations
or is it off to my castle 
in the 
Carpathians
impeccable manners
i smell like lavender coconut butter cream
live in a grand house
on 
beach front property
mucho bucks in the bank
nice as spice
you will never have to worry again
are you objectifying me?
GOOD
because I'm objectifying you
and id rather not hear anymore about it
lets not argue with nature
its like a rock falling
arguing with gravity
all the way down.

https://medium.com/@4zebra2u/******-objectification-the-lie-that-keeps-on-lying-fb79223d016f
Sarina May 2013
I keep dreaming of you in that strawberry patch
we had – my backyard, 2007.

The barn was already haunted so I planted my nightmares
in bushels of berries for others to ingest –
you know the old fairytale about watermelon seeds,
well, it also works with spores of sadness.

I wish you could have seen it,
but you must have some time or another. You picked
me from a lineup of a hundred black-haired
offenders, most with blue eyes the color of a package
of ramen noodles or Pepsi cola cans.

Suggestions that I vend my fruit, their ovaries,
were fortified between phone calls from state-over friends
I just did not have the ovaries to do so, no strength:
it would feel like the hair being pulled from my scalp

before I even knew you.
Present day, it is easy to understand why –
I keep dreaming of you in that old strawberry patch
choosing to taste and love my sorrow
over someone else’s happiness, as if it were beautiful.
Watercolors
Gouache
Colored pencils
I miss my notebook
The one I made
Holding my earrings
He has cried with me, maybe
Looking at the sky
Can't see my feet
Passing through the trees
Remembering no one's eyes
The cars are big
Can't catch my voice
Someone asking me :
''Are you beautiful ?''
And I say :
I'm depressed
I had beautiful skirts
Colored pencils be beautiful
I like to draw myself
The ovaries of the boats are empty
I gather the sands at the beach
The sky will remain blue with the sea
I don't know why I still don't like to makeup
I think...
**** pictures increase the depression
And it's only I who must have seen
the copulation of two crows
at the university
I can hear Farinoosh and I laughing
I will not forget Shekoufe
And Pouria that curly hair boy
I used to play with when I was four
Gave me a swallow...
And I like to draw myself
In the arms of my mom 'a scarves
My scarf was green with red dapples
I used to ride big dogs at fun fair
Eating candies
Hadn't my sister at that time
I was three...
As I got to six my sister came
with the Lion King
I remember that morning with my granny,
hanging from the terraces
I thought, the snow was snowing in the summer
Just like the cartoons...
I 'be always had strange feeling for the sun
I can't describe its warmth on my skin...!
I have dark circles around my eyes
I've lost my moon-star earrings
I can't swim in the sea
I should wear scarf
And I think I will feel death sooner
Where I can't take my mom and my sister
As I know very well that my
husband's black shoes would be
much bigger than me
For the sky to rain there must be a cloud...

آبرنگ
گواش
مدادرنگی
دلم برای دفترم تنگ شده است
من آن را درست کرده بودم
گوشواره هایم را داشت
شاید او هم با من گریه کرده باشد
به آسمان نگاه می کنم
پاهایم را نمی بینم
از روی درخت ها رد می شوم
چشم های هیچکس را به خاطر نمی آورم
ماشین ها بزرگ اند
به صدای من نمی رسند
کسی از من می پرسد
تو زیبایی!؟
و من می گویم
من افسرده ام
دامن های زیبا داشتم
مداد رنگی ها زیبا باشند
و من دوست دارم
خودم را بکشم
تخمدان قایق ها
خالیست
شن ها را در ساحل می چینم
آسمان با دریا آبی خواهد بود
نمی دانم چرا هنوز میل به
آرایش کردن ندارم
...فکر می کنم
تصویرهای سکس افسردگی را بیش تر می کند
که فقط من باید
جفت گیری دو کلاغ را
در دانشگاه دیده باشم
صدای خنده های فرینوش با من می آیند
شکوفه را از خاطر نمی برم
پوریا
پسری مو فرفری
در چهارسالگی با هم بازی می کنیم
...به من پرستو داد
و من دوست دارم خودم را بکشم
در آغوش روسری های مادرم باشم
روسری من سبز بود
با خال های قرمز
در شهربازی
سگ های بزرگ سوارم
اسمارتیز می خورم
هنوز خواهرم را نداشتم
...سه سالم بود
وقتی شش سالم شد
خواهرم با شیرشاه آمد
صبحی را با مادربزرگم یادم هست
در بالکن آویزان بودم
من فکر کردم
برف در تابستان باریده است
شبیه کارتون ها بود
همیشه احساسم به خورشید غریب است
نمی توانم توصیف کنم
!!...گرمایش در پوست تنم
زیر چشم هایم سیاه است
گوشواره های ماه و ستاره ام را گم کرده ام
نمی توانم در دریا شنا کنم
باید روسری داشته باشم
و من فکر می کنم
مرگ را زود تر احساس خواهم کرد
جایی که دیگر نمی توانم
مادرم و خواهرم را با خود ببرم
همانطور که خوب می دانم
کفش های سیاه همسرم
از من بزرگ تر خواهند بود
...باید آسمان باشد تا ابر ببارد
What came first the chicken or the egg
eggs bro, just ******* eggs
what comes out between a chickens legs
eggs bro, just ******* eggs

Eggs in ovaries
eggs in the ground
eggs in the open ocean
laid with no sound

Eggs at Easter
no embryos inside
just a little present
may within reside

So what came first
the chicken or the egg
well come on
it has to be the egg

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
I H Σ
IHS HOMILIA

In the natural fatigue of everything created, the Duoverse presented its IHΣ, falling on the eighteenth letter of the Greek alphabet and on the duo hundred changes in physical memory. The PH (Hexagonal Primogenitor), is conceived in the presence of the Chrismon, but Hellenic with the Vexillum banner, to rescind the fatigued and depressed winds, since the quantum of memory was lost in its integrity of aerophobic to the earth, and therefore the subsequent one would be air-water, being for this reason, preceded the ceremonial that begins by stripping before the abenuz Diospyros, with its stamens usually in sixteen plus its hypogines or inserts at the base of the corolla; like those of the female flowers, being part of the gynoecium of the Tsambikas part, and of the androecium that will have to be of the Diospyros in Theoskepasti; with ovaries generally tetra ocular adapted, to be inseminated for the raids of the demigods of the Horcondising and El Duoverso, with the monogram HDD (Horcondising-Duoverso), for those who trace the bifurcations with Zefián; chaos computer, all the way to modulated Theoskepasti. Making the changes that have to be reborn in the stamen, being almost sterile, aborting in the memories of Galilee, signifying the pollination performance of the Diospyros and sprouting in the same stem of the whorl, even more in each hand of stigmatized Vernarth and Etréstles , bearing the IHS candles, the monogram and the Mandylion-Vas Auric, as a sign of the Olives Bern. Before the seams of the carved heels are erected and the one of the gutters of the annelids going up through the alabaster, to the chalice with the chrismon hat.

Filling the warehouse of Anemoi himself, and forgetting his deposit of the empyrean breath on the synaptic abbreviations, the argument of Saint John the Apostle continues in the network of Rhodes and Kímolos, for the cortex of the sensory past and the consequence of the gusts of falls by the trisomies, affecting to be regenerated on the oxygen-nitrogenous bases, from the activation of nemo-genetics, to specify the loss and egregious gain of channeling between the Cyclades and the Dodecanese. Carrying memories of Vernarth's cerebellum stuck and not trembling towards the lake of the hippocampus, where the Zoroaster carried the Magi, at the end of the span and first-last border in the vicinity of Ein Karem. On the evolutionary scale the weak air masses fluctuated, in the flood of the Meltemi over the Aegean, taking them to the bay of Dekas, on the knees of the colossus that impregnated with its fennels so that some delirium could replace its articulation. Remaining like this, on a scale of emptiness reminiscent and tacit ..., it continues to be and not, occupying itself and not, but it does rise towards the colossus from the ground of Vernarth, which had split bipartite from Rhodes to kímolos, like Verthian neuroscience, whose prose they emanate submissive glaciers of Intuitive Hypermeditation (as a technique of knowledge and meditation, for functional links of inspiration, purgative insight and yogic memory). All the nonsense is alluded to, breaking the rationality of the Vas Auric ceremonial, in its phenomenology, making curvilinear pauses to re-captivate phraseological keys, diminished in condensed memories equivalent to approximately ten terabytes, from a homologous half, almost surrendering when exhausted before both scholars and their debts exchanged when driving ..., thus recovering wave dips before reaching the bay of Dekas, Kímolos and ending in the necropolis of Hellenika ..., and vice versa before re-climbing in the middle of Mandraki, Archangelos and Filerimos, to finish in Tsambika, Rhodes.  As a parallel response to the archpriest of not altering the  IHS homily monogram, and of the association in remembrance, which may affect the conduction of the mediumistic trance, almost prostrating him in the house of forgetfulness and frenzy, if he is to recover not stabilized. The sulfurous and mercurous component of Cinnabar proceeded by acidifying the essences of Vas Auric, already prospering in the hands of each auric conductor ..., Archpriest and Saint John the Apostle, each with the sulfur from the mountain and the arc of the Aegean Sea, as genesis volcanic for its diametrals towards a change of chemical prisms, to the multi-angle of the topaz that Saint John the Apostle wore in his air, close to the reliquary, hanging from some fringes of the Vexillum, that he had arranged near the Vernarth. Immediately on the banks of the monastery, Raeder was walking with a lantern looking for those who might try to enter, he believed that it was his father from Kalymnos, the ones who came on another mission, to be carried away by the energizing power of cinnabar, more than a breath for those who observe by the quarters, stationed in the sandy areas of Rodas.  Petrobus, the pelican…, circled around the heights of the monastery, delimiting the laxity of his body's memory, in prayers in case they ventured through Kalimnos for a good portent, in waters for the tenth seeds for all the Rodines.

From the monastery with one of its necessary dependencies, all were with exacerbated white candles between the steps of each cell and their attached friars, they made a room of the nave near the church on the hexagonal floor, this being screened through the center of the garden where everything was dominated by the limits of the alabaster arches, which only now pointed to the closet of the books, this time being fed up and sparing their voices with devotion. Chapter by chapter it expired ..., for each cell, identifying each portion of the world in creation to the scriptorium and the refectory, where in this ceremony books were swallowed for the infinite world of the Duoverso, near the parlor, to do the times when He was teaching Saint George and the Dragon, vinegar the presses for the wine of the missal. Even so, Eurydice, organized the fragrances of the cells and intermediations of the southern called in the voices of Proserpina, coming dressed in proclaimed black, but with the appearance of Persephone in reality wedged into her face as a goddess woman, but with a hemiplegic collapse.

Sequence shot at Kímolos, Panagia Theoskepasti

Etréstles says: “according to what has been said in this dimension, the word will be the world of the Duoverso. Synchronously, it lined up with the monastery in Tsambika, by the third hour after noon, reflecting off the undisclosed walls of the chapel. On if,  in the radiosities of cinnabar. Thus entering electromagnetic lassitude through the trusses of the pulpit anchored in the Vox of the mystical vortex, towards those who entered and left thousands of times through the counter shutters of the chapel, colliding and colliding many times, until by the iridescent Cinnabar, somewhat Sulfur rial, mixed with the radiosities of some novae, which also acted as a decoy of the chrismon, which Kanti carried the steed adjusted in the saddle on his back, as a mount of syntactic esotericism, speaking of intangible brown colors of cinnabar, almost human. I know that the scrolls will write themselves, and that no word will have to be written or pressed by a mortal who protects it, the Diospyros, will exert anticipated redemption from the imbalance of the proximity of the Universe that slowly fell on Greece, while in the hegemony of the abenuz, everything looked with its graceful synchronous stamens that were usually sixteen, plus its hypogines or inserts at the base of the corolla; that attracted the essences of the Androecium with ovaries generally tetra ocular adapted, but according to the word Ebreh Ke Dabra, for those who carry it under a state of extended ******* and under a possession of psychopathies, to delegate them in non-demonized existences, if not emerging from the syntax of the verb, close to the intellect that works for the grace of the subsequent. In this way, all demonization would remain in the distractions of the annelids, who travel the coast of Kimolos, from Dekas to Hellenika, where they will finish the alternation of the gifts of the Vas Auric, teleporting in the vessels; or vehicles rolled to the chapel, to later be forwarded to the necropolis.

At three o'clock, after midnight in its antipode of noon, the psalms will shield with the wings of Petrobus all the government of Theoskepasti, and with its golden, feathers ..., and the heraldry of Vernarth with its Aspis Koilé, lavishing it in those of Saint John the Apostle, in the Shaddai that acts as a temple, towards the lower funnel of the Hetairoi, confined to the elect devotion of being protected towards the gates of the Savior, in lands of sand removed over the naked and reddish bodies of Archangelos and of Psathi with mega gallons of papyrus, falling like the blooming chrysalis of Diospyros on the litanies of the archpriest, who was interrupted in his syntactic diction, when permeating the sequence shot Cyclades-Dodecanese, Tsambika-Theoskepasti, Anemoi-Meltemi, Vernarth- Etréstles , low the Vexillum or mercenary banner of the Peltasts that in legions gathered to assist together with Vernarth in both chapels for the chalices of the fish that welcomes the dead in battles and takes him from his nets and enables him with his gills…; "Tel Gomel, Gaugamela and the Gordian knot in the hands of Saint George and the Dragon"

In the aftermath of the memory loss of Vernarth's body, he already had his chest full of Cyclops, St. George appearing to venerate his litany and wide pain, common to the one who, even in that state, can sustain the world like Atlas, but like Epimetheus of afterthought. Being triumphant in his imaginography, appearing with the snowy horse, in total synchronization at the moment in which he is seen appreciating Etréstles, on the bulbous clouds that enveloped the chapel, and haughty and shrewd the knight Saint George of Anatolia, Roman and Christian was seen . With his mother; Polychrome, having already been trained here in the town of his mother's origin, in Lydda, he was trained as a military tribune knight, and was later appointed as a Diocesan personal guard.
Vexillum
Claire Waters Mar 2014
“Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout ******* and ovaries rather than ***** and *******;to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable feminity. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonomous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to ****** them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night...”*
-Sylvia Plath

all the streets i’ve walked become a neat little maze
under crete is a labyrinth
under los angeles is a cage
in my head forms a neat little map
cover your legs with your napkin
the monster in my head
says to cover my back

she’s looking for a sweet little life
she’s slumping over in her seat looking white
she may seem a little lifeless because she is
are you okay, are you okay?
are you?
no.

you put on a little periwinkle dress
you reign in your red hair with barrettes
now you shed the little periwinkle dress
in a gas station bathroom
to be less like a girl and more like
the smoke in your lungs
the pain in your heartstrings

you rip your red hair from the barrettes
it doesn’t feel good anymore
they don’t feel right
you go to goodwill and stare at the men’s button ups
in gaudy patterns and colors
shaken and sleight like your mind
some people’s eyes just chill your bones
you think it is safer to wear camouflage
in a city where pretty little girls
are devoured by minotaurs
when they wander out alone

don’t think about strange boys on the boardwalk
who are stuck in your sun glared eyes
the less you told
keep telling yourself it was wise
the lies you told
keep replaying through your mind
the wall rears it’s head
when he says the word *****
you ignore the warnings
you ignite the warnings
you forgot the warnings
hand him the lighter and watch them burn

they say they can feel your lightness
you tell them you are looking for a life full of light
and it lessens, as the sun drops
learn your lesson
they only want one thing
and you don’t want to think about it
but eventually they say what they really think
what they rashly think
what they readily think
the sniffing nose around the corner
you barely blink
the bull shows you the horns
you know you stink vulnerability

and you always get up to leave
just in time, the warnings
you disappear back into your well memorized labyrinth
your body and mind are warring
the minotaur is bearing down
the moments are fleeting but you carry the feeling
the moments are feeble but the fear keeps on teething

maybe tonight
you can do something different
try not to haunt
every place that you live in
the feminine
Mick Nov 2014
I am human.
I am one strip of skin stitched together holding active organs in line,
I am 206 bones.
I am one brain.
I am one overly active heart.
I am one lung and 2 ovaries.
I am the same as you.
but how dare you compare me to you.
I am independent thoughts,
I am autonomous actions
I am a story.
I am history and future.
I am human.
Autumn Shayse Apr 2019
It has been said,
rather eloquently by Fleabag,
that women are born with pain within them,
whilst men have to learn to feel pain.

nothing that has ever been said,
has ever given me this much clarity

i am in pain,
for differing reasons,
sometimes quite out of my control

my hormone profile
is turbulent and more often than not,
it succeeds at
pushing in the darkness
i will now spend a week,
waiting for my ovaries to leak,
and for the tears to run dry.
this is defffo rough - but honestly i am enduring a cyclical week of bleakness each month and i wanted to try and express that
also i am lonely as hell out here in my stupid brain
Morgan Apr 2013
Keep the youth medicated & sedated, then wonder why the literacy rate is doomed to decline. Birth us on a pedestal, then wonder why we have no incentive to climb. Build us from a violent genocide, then wonder why we've got guns pressed under our tongues. Kneel us before the clergy. Strangle us with your rosaries. Brand psalms into our wrists & make laws to control her ovaries. Value groupthink over independent thought & induce aversion to curiosity. Hang us between your revolving doors & shoot nationalism into our veins... Then wonder why we're so addicted to drowning our insides.
"..so she just comes up to me and I didn't wanna say nuthin' to her
so I'm just like: 'Hey man, I'm just some dude.'
I wasn't lying, man, I mean, right? We all just dudes, right, man?
I be like 'Check it, dude; hows I sees it is: all us ******' dudes is equal,
and it make no ******' difference whether you got ovaries or testicles or whateverthefuck in between. **** like that is just a bad excuse to hate a ******* for no good reason. There's no need for that.
You best be hatin' a ******* for the right ******' reasons
if you gonna be hatin' on a ******* at all, naw'msayin'?
There are too ******' many good ******* reasons to hate on a fool
to let that silly, lame, petty childish **** cloud our judgements.'

Dude's a dude is a ******* dude no matter ******* what, man.
On a cosmic scale, I will have you know, gender really ain't a thing at all.. yo.
(Not at all to be confused with ***, which, as it says here:
"can surely be cosmological in effect, assuming proper conditions.")
A genuine dude ******* can't be trippin' on petty ***** **** like what the **** is or isn't between your legs! Seriously: grow the **** up.
I mean, if I may, there be bigger issues at hand here-
bigger players in play, as it were, than
what the **** side of what ******' line on the beach you're from,
or what ******' skin you got,
or what genitalia you have,
or what genitalia you like,
or what words you use,
or what the **** versions, translations,
or versions of ******* translations
of whichever-the-**** books
you do or don't happen to respect, man.
Just remember we all just dudes, man, okay?
That's all, really; Just be cool, and we cool.
It's really very simple and could be easy.

Now, I beseech of thee to dig it, dudes:
yea, though it would surely seem
we are physically different dudes,
there's really just this one Dude
with a capitol muh'****** D, right?
That ******' Guy is really every-******'-thing else, man,
and we're all, like, little dude fractals and ****
aspiring to be spiraling out of his head and **** like that, man,
and Mr.Dr. Big Supreme Badass Cpt.******'Everything Dude's all like:
'Go for it, my dudes! ******' right! Rock on! Yeah!! Get some!'
and I'm here to ******' prove it, man,
but, I mean, we're all here already, dudes,
and that's really all the proof of my point I think I need:
it's the Dude that's ******' everywhere, all the ******' time, man,
and, like, we've just gotta recognize that ****, man,
and reflect it. We gotta respect that ****, you know, man?
It's, like, soo super ******' far out, man,
that it's really just super ******' far in, maaan!
It's all the same, dudes.
Dudes. Hear me out, dudes.
It's all just ******' fractals and crystals and vibrations n' ****, dude.
Reflections of Dude everywhere, dude.
I am Dude. We are Dude.
Dudes ******* abound, dude.
Keep bein' dudes, dudes.
Be excellent to each other. Party on, dudes.

Hey, woah man, what's that like?
I heard about that..
Pass that over here, dude, would'ya?
If you're into it, I'm curious...

..aww yeeeah.. thanks, man.
I appreciate it. Respect.

Now..
where was I..
****. I lost the trip, man. Oh well.
There was gonna be a point to that,
but I forget now. ****, man.
I feel like an idiot. I'm sorry, I just wasted all that time!
What were you even asking me?
I get a bit carried away at times.
Huh?
Oh, yeah, its'..uhh. about three-fifteenish!"
-Jesus/Krishna/Horus/Me?/Etc./[You?]
I will have you know, this is easy to say but hard to write, let alone read aloud. Seriously. Try it. Please. Just this once, for me, baby, please?

For this trip, we're gonna need a ******' translator from Californian to Greek to Aramaic to Latin to Saxon to English to Arabic to Spanish to Ancient Egyptian to Hindi to Afrakaans to Portuguese to French to German to Norwegian and then to Russian and tradtional Chinese before coming back to Japanese and then proceeding south to Nepal and staying for a layover in some tiny ******* village that uses bad-******'-*** Nordic lookin' Runes somewhere long enough to become fluent before finding another person who speaks Californian just to make sure if I would agree with myself, if I needed to, man.

-Context is Key!
So much colloquial *******!
May this serve as a glimpse into the fine vernacular often drawn upon by the folks characteristic of my brand of Northern California as interpreted by a, at this point, raving ******* lunatic.
Is it blasphemy if it means well?
I'm almost in disbelief that I wrote this.

I hope at least one of you is laughing as hard as I am now.
If so, I like to think I've done my job, man.
..raw..
Laura Aug 2018
I love
Our love
In a way
I don't love
Anything

It makes my
Toes wiggle
When you
Spontaneously kiss me

It makes my
Ovaries flutter
When you
Hold my waist

It makes my
Cheeks blush
When you
Nibble my ear

It makes my
Eyelashes bat
When you
Say you love me

It makes my
Palms pulse
When you
Peck my fingers

It makes my
Body weak
When you
Say I'm yours
(AP) Chicago vicinity hit hard yesterday by fierce bracing winds approximating unmanned chainsaws violently cutting across streets sidewalks heavy lakefront blizzard icy snow resembling slivers of broken glass slashing stinging skin news alert of return of dreaded snow worms attacking women and children technically known as Kinorhynchan Oligochaetes Nemertines these deadly transparent parasitic creatures slither slightly ticklish creep inside boots preferring hairless legs of children slimy vipers dig between toes devouring traces of toe jam then gnawing toenails until they reach foot bed where they fester in bitter dark brown green milky juices crippling little boys and girls in shaven women the elongated legless carnivorous ice worms disguised as mere icicle drippings climb up calf knee thigh ****** ****** ovaries feasting on female eggs their favorite food many northern women choose not to shave during winter season so as not to fall victim to the snow worms
Elaenor Aisling Feb 2014
I think my grandmother is convinced
that my ovaries will shrivel up
if I do not find a man by summer.

She was married by 19,
and has always wanted great grandchildren
she loves buying baby things, children's toys.
Kindergarten is the golden age of life.
I did not date in highschool,
but if she saw me looking at a boy,
she asked if he was single,
and told me to ask him over for dinner.

When I hit University,
I found a sweet, mad, mess of a boy
and she was quiet,
but we went our separate ways,
she started up again.

Scheming, the unwanted matchmaker.
Asking if the piano player at church was single,
(he's four years younger than I)
and trying to arrange play-dates for me
with unwitting high school acquaintances.

She means well, I know,
but despite the hopeless Romanticism I harbor
I know I need time, (there are still open wounds),
to fall back in love with myself,
before trying to fall for someone else.
ioan pearce Mar 2010
ball bag of *****
ovaries beware
lust of the manhood
lies that he cares
over cooked passion
carelessly had
kiddies unwanted
some with no dad
Taylor Kendra Jan 2015
Eureka
My thanks to the man who tasted
cyanide and voiced his last Eureka.
“Almonds”
To the man who saw dragons
to be slayed with pen and sword
in windmills.
To the Danish Prince who said
“What a piece of work is man.”
Well, man’s a piece of work alright.

Did you ever think about how
men wear their ovaries on the outside?
Or how you can always win arguments with yourself
in the shower?
My boyfriend traces the edge
of my chewed nails as he asks
me what I am thinking about.

I’m thinking about the consistency of jellyfish
and how it compares to human brains
and the taste of nectarines, overripened
drawing fruitflies to picnic tables.
Maybe I see colors differently
and will never know that my blues
are only a midnight shadow of what they
could be and if I’ve never truly seen the color red.

And how after nineteen years
I still can’t tell if I’m a good person
or just faking really well.
And if that Chinese Emperor
who strapped rockets to his thrown
to find dragons
ever found any.
Did the chicken getting crushed while crossing
the road get him to the other side.
If I died young, could I motivate people
to be nicer to each other?
When did my grandmother die
and when can I ask my mother without her
crying?  There was a little girls skeleton
found next to her donkey in the ancient ruins
of an earthquake. There were several
different species of human alive at the same time
and my favorite color isn’t really blue
And I’m really glad I couldn’t ****
myself when I was 13 because I tasted
my first plum last week.  AND FOR THE LOVE
OF GOD
WHAT
AM
I DOING
WITH
MY
LIFE.
My happy moments will always outweigh the bad
And are my ***** uneven because
when I look down—
What are you thinking about?
Almonds.  They
taste like cyanide.
Lendon Partain Mar 2013
Gripping dripping smearing love.
Over your eyes!!!
Over your ovaries, where babies, your clutch.

There's no time to nest,
Resist!
Resist
,
be the diode, resistor to heart plunge.
Plug up the sewer.
(more like a catacomb)
My heart's in the ****** cake.
The smell, Cytotoxic invades chemical response conformation.

We; bitten, by fangs of silicon,
the world takes us away from ivy
grown homes,
torn then seamed up jack o' lanterns always smiling orange.

Have you ever grown up from being 11?
It's the saddest thing you've seen.
You see a fledgling,
altricial,
awkward,
gawk/****,
turn from a boy
to a lady.

Plump. Or . Musculate.

Slowly they regenerate their lady parts.
Regardless of gender.

Have you seen them bleed?
Some bleed white tears that burn the urethra.
Some, never grow up.
Transmogrified they call it.
Never to be beautiful again.
Angst entangles, ensues, makes doubt
pubescence is for flowers and hairs.
Namesake.
5th Grade.

Curious formation, curious nature
It's as if we are stalagmites of the future,
We decorate walls or cave ceilings to perform our correct action.
Too bad our self image is always garbled, confused by our refraction.

NEVER GRADUATE COLLEGE.
Y Rada Nov 2015
If tomorrow never comes,
To my family what must I say?
Must I ask for forgiveness
For the mistakes of yesterday?

If tomorrow never comes,
To my friends what must I tell?
Must I assure them that
Heaven is much better than hell?

If tomorrow never comes,
To my foes what must I offer?
Must I serve some droplets
Of love on their plates during supper?

If tomorrow never comes,
To my beloved what must I do?
Must I speak honestly that
“A pity I’ve never known you?”

If tomorrow never comes,
To my unborn babies what must I choose?
Must I be regretful for
My ovaries are never used?

If tomorrow never comes,
To my world what must I shout?
Must I open my heart and
Let my feelings be out?

If tomorrow never comes,
To my Christ what must I give?
Must I give my whole being and
Trust that in Him everything I received?
Paul Cassano Dec 2014
Back in the day when we could just sit back
Chill out and relax, it was nothing but just that
This one feeling (Psych!) no hidden tax, cleaned up scraps
Advance to attack softly surpass the romance is thick like sap
The impact you had on me I didn't know how to react
The thought is abstract, but intact with vows attached
Our love sapped from each other invitingly,
Finally you see just how much you mean to me
Quite the sheen we had, the luster once explained by Guster
Green light, fourteen, the events unforeseen you must've
Came to me, so afraid, now I'm amazed that I've uh-
found her this early, surely it's not today
It must be a mistake, but I can't contain these sparks
Sparse, is the words I have to say to you, "MONTHS!"
Worse, course you shut a bit of cabinet wood, it creaks
"Curse!", focus not on mom but on her you should be,
gravitational force, by fits and starts, this matter of bursts,
it comes in
I know it but not clear; smokey quarts, ******* crumbs an'
My blank *** mind is turning this into a blank verse
But first, listen to what I have to say, it works!
Not this, at worse I felt reversed, so I put us in park
My feelings for you are neutral, electrons are gone and,
it's too good to be true

You're out of excuses you've run out of time 'n' this ****'s on you
For doubt is bruisin', chewin' spun me around and...

Reminiscin' Cough! It even hurts to say
To breathe, my breath, it isn't here to stay
It's kinda like sleeping, it's just a cousin of death
I'm stickin around but not in this circle,
tripping like a round peg in a square hole,
you grind me into this grounded world of mine
Quit it with the same shape jokes fellow,
with your same lame faces, the same claims are racing below
Chasin immortality, thats a futile fantasy, reality
happily robs your dreams candidly, like you did to me
We're done here. Why can't you see
that when the smoke clears, it's crystal but not amethyst or ruby.
Truthfully I don't understand this new "me", I need an analyst
Matter of factfully, that was an accident, kinda like all this was.
I just ate too much and threw up all over this canvas
And it sounds like practice. Maybe I take you all back, just
grow up, crawl then, complain about this slanted stanza
Anxious I am to end the madness, the recent lack of composure.
but you cannot address the cheapest setback: I'm lonely.
The malice, the heartache, the "palace of flattest objects"
The helpless, the sorry, the callous fingers from these projects
What do they mean to you? Anger? Angst?
Somewhat close to a coat hanger, to hang up all of my paint?!
You're like watching grass grow, and for this **** I'm 'bout to mow

"You think you can do these things but you just can't Nemo!"

Here we go-
You know that one time when I said, "I'll always be here."?
I meant it. Now let go! I said it's over, delirious!
I'm serious, who would ever miss this?
I fear some wickedly addictive feelings are making me trapped
but it feels like it's just two ovaries
No wait, it's just you about to *****-act!
---------------------------------------------
It's a brief pause, but I feel it coming in strong!
The atmosphere is a thief, stealing my breath, so long
I've worked my *** off; it flew away now it's gone,
just like a me to a you, I meet you and ramble on:
I have spent so many days burning our bridges, keeping us afloat
Not once you take time to count me for my vote
Goodbye! Wait, hello... I'm no tough guy, I take chances, though
But you only get one, and this is it, to let you know
I'm outta here for now. And so are you; go.
Rap track my buddy Alex and I are working on at the moment.
Necropolis of Hellenika / Kímolos
Tsambika / Philo of Alexandria

They passed each other on the outskirts of Archangelos to go to Tsambika, going to the Necropolis of Helleniká where he was waiting for them more than 400 kilometers to the west of the Cyclades, precisely in Kímolos where they would do the colloquy with to do the channeling with the Necropolis. Etréstles had traveled with Kanti the steed; on his back, they saw the distance before they arrived at Mandraki in Rhodes. They all headed down the coast towards Archangelos, but Etréstles went to Helleniká, the Vas Auric was landed on Mandraki for the purposes of the Creation of Vernarth together with the Apostle Saint John. Kímolos, it is on this island that the famous beginning of the procession towards the outskirts of the cities was to deposit their sacred remains on the way to a better one, here were the martyrs who were used to Etréstles since he cohabits in delay with Drestnia for the new millennium (His female of hers) with which he resides in the Koumeterium of Messolonghi in the ninth vertical cemetery. Having a chapel and altars this place was propitious to create between Kimolos and Tsambika which was so many kilometers away, so the meeting performance between villages would be seen in its entirety to be resurrected and worshiped between the Cyclades and the Dodecanese with pious exercises between both latitudes precisely in the chapel of Theoskepasti, while in Tsambika it would be in the Panagia Tsambika monastery. Etréstles carried in both hands some matches of some population dowries with laws of affability and generations lived there without knowing each other between the two islands and tabernacles, arguing canons of burial and exhumation. In this case of performance refer to the Vas Auric of Limassol that brought the construction of a world of the right angles for the neat reconstruction of multi polygonal spectra, adopted for the first time in Kímolos to be retransferred to a logical philosophical-architectural division seeking to enclose the perfect plans where the new Christians will reside, between Rhodes and the west of Kímolos re-installing themselves among more than a third of the venerable ones who rested in Helleniká, in syncretic neatness with dissimilar populations and creeds.

Saint John the Apostle with Vertnarth, Raeder, and Petrobus plus Eurydice would bring from the rubies of Alexandria the incorporeal honor of Alexander the Great, turning both island sites into palaces of the Muses of Helleniká for the scholars who would be at the canonization of Vas Auric. Being the precursor of the chapel of the Theoskepasti, this performance of erudition will be endowed with the new status for Philo of Alexandria present here, now being a co-demiurge who will convert this necropolis city into duality with Tsambika for distinctions of the rituals and homilies, reducing the inputs basics in ceremonies. Philo of Alexandria says that only God protects the Jews, adding to what Philo wrote in La Legatio ad Gaium, the Jewish delegation had trouble meeting Caligula and when they finally met him, the emperor declared that he wanted a statue of him to be built as Jupiter in the Temple of Jerusalem, which sowed desolation among the members of the delegation. Finally, this purpose was not realized thanks to the intervention of Agrippa I and the death of Caligula, Philo attributed the happy ending of both cases to Providence. This divine letter of these translators with Saint John the Apostle and Philo of Alexandria will make this homily the spiritual custody that will be preserved in these two cities and then towards the world of Vernarth of the Duoverse, so that invisible winds blow from the chapel of Kímolos to Panagia de Tsambika, in the frameworks that feed the Hebraic and Hellenic boundary “translating Greek into Hebrew, but in two universal sites of creation in the Theoskepasti chapel and Panagia de Tsambika, about the magic of the meeting of omniscience and grace. Says Vernarth: “with the interpretation of Philo of Alexandria and his exegesis, I will rub the tract of the successions of infinity legitimately stored the creation thought of the ZigZag Universe with the Parapsychological Regressive authority now circulating in a sniffing universe with a Verthian genealogy, tempering with my Falangist disciples but being biblical when it becomes the occasional emaciated mob of a world that falls degrading with its last pieces and challenges of the world associated with an allegorical spirit, contracted to wings of ethics and doctrinal rectitude. I have two candles in each hand, similar to Etréstles in Kímolos and in Helleniká, making delights of pleasures in these ceremonies to create the world’s ignored in the office of the super compassionate language, in more than seven days that add up between the Sun and the Earth, in a sub-mythological world being ourselves our own executioner established on the ***** that falls from the match of the wick of my Lucerne in its own mood. I still have a memory of who and of each one who will always be in my prayers, reopened in a sacredness less than my own end, here I will not continue to be stored. Rather I will continue to fall, exhumed from the very storehouse and from the struggle of the thistle that falls from itself rounded up to be competent to explain himself biblically as if he had never before been read ad limit of the doctoral, and sacred in the work of Philo of Alexandria here with us leading and there in the Necropolis on another thorn; as a perpetual creeping species growing here as an unvarying summer plant in cooler climates, which would usually be prostrated on the Helleniká slab with radiating branchy stems extending the fractal distance between Kímolos and Tsambika in thistle´s ceremonies. The hirsute silts will come from the genesis of their spiritual temporal being the same wool of the whirlpool of all the weeds attached and oppressed to the lamp of the gargoyles that are tuned together with the Gulpers of Archangelos in a happy diet following patterns of even, and odd thistles spring in the Cyclades and the Dodecanese. The Parapsychological regression XIV century - Saint John the Apostle says: “from Filerimos a sidekick monk of Philo of Alexandria has come with the image of the blessed Immaculate ****** and painted by Saint Luke the Apostle. The Knights of Saint John built the Monastery of Saint John in Rhodes with this image; everything comes from there on the Miraculous Hill of Filerimos, and the temple of Athens Polias was converted into a proto-basilica with a three-bay nave dedicated to Her. The church is known since then for housing the figure of the ****** of Filerimos (Our Lady of Filerimos). In the fourteenth century under the rule of the Knights of Saint John a monastery was built here surrounded by cloisters cells and a series of chapels, that is where the figure is the miracle worker and is reverently guarded. Being a Capuchin order after the Ottomans destroyed it; it was rebuilt by the Italians. With this image we canonize the Vas Áuric in the homily prior to the spiritual link with Etréstles in Kímolos, before every morning they illuminate the sacred Earth of both latitudes in the mystical house of Saint John the Apostle with the herbalists on the wind to fight for the Somnia in Hortum et Flos Herbarium in Kímolos, Garden of Flowers and Dreams in Herbalist in Kimolos. Knowing that the Universe is approaching the Vernarthian Duoverse, Saint John the Apostle decided with the Birthright to establish a Duoversal Garden in Kímolos with the aim of laying tremendous foundations on the base of the pre-Christians and apostolic who enlisted in the Greco-Hebrew world with the addition of compression, and medicinal valences for the herbalist of Kímolos, in such a way to reissue it in the monastery of San Juan in Rhodes and the Panagia of Tsambika. Since the grains grew and germinated they became thickets of great predestined forest in Rhodes, aspiring to continue being a well-known theology in Greek also being sufficient testimonial about its Aramaic originality, being addressed to the Sanhedrin, 37-42 AD Before Caiaphas and redirecting it to his brother-in-law Theophilus of Annas. The Aramaic Apocalypse, also known as 4Q246, is in one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, found at Qumran, with notable early messianic mention of the Son of God. Saint Luke says in the voice of Saint John the Apostle: “4Q246, we are children of God…, the Highest, the Messiah as a messianic voice, being able to be confused with the Beast or the Messiah but Philo of Alexandria will be there saying “I always ignored with the most blessed indifference to Satan, because therefore in this Aramaic manuscript he only has, and will reside forever and ever in his Messiah” Given this situation, the commanded expressions were those of astragals mysticism in herbalist and botany in this manuscript, since the unfortunate leftovers are the freshness and splendor of the flowers caressed by the wind that arrived at that moment; in regard to the wind of the Anemoi being eight gods that correspond to the eight cardinal points from which they came and were related to different seasons and meteorological phenomena, but he heralded the excitement of the Cyclades, like Sound of Sounds between Narcissus of Sharon and Lilies of the Valley. The audio-images were avocados forming the deep thickets that will move according to the inclinations of the planets, each time the Universe approached Greece among all the cisterns with water for the flower meadows that Vernarth in litanies was assigned to the paths that lead to the Vas Auric.

Vernarth says: “With these titles “Vas spirituale, Vas honorabile, Vas insigne devotionis, Rosa mystical, and Regina sacratissimi rosari”, I have to transform all the astragalus, and shrubs into the consorts with the presence of the jacaranda vase of living human nature in virtue of the meeting of the Universe-Duoverse, for the herbalist of Kímolos now imprisoned in the Vas Auric of Limassol. "Sweet Nectar of the dying, eager for eternal hunger and sweetness in withered flowers"
The end of Parapsychological regression XIV century
Saint John says Apostle: “Helleniká and Tsambika, will be the lily, the saffron, the rose and the violet but also new ones, like the marigold and the chamomile making of all a diadem crown to place the world of the Duoverse in all its radius, for the star that illuminates par excellence as a white planet without thorns, which is perfect among the perfect, anti herbicide of language and of incarnation as in the Empyrean the medieval sky in the highest of heavens. It is likewise in the place of the physical presence of God, where angels and souls reside in Paradise between caltrops and Rosas towards the alimentary plane of conventual voice, and tonics of the glycogenic Milky Way sipping third-grade milk to curdle in the children who have not been a Messiah yet. Paths of thorns will guide visitors to this gallery of flowers and plants through the Panagia monkish for the holy homily with the Lilies and through low valleys, where no more Lilies can escape from their chains of the Liliorum genome in the valleys of the galactogenic virtue. Like Mother Rosette and son Lirium, being the mother of everyone and of that…, there… your son, “Myself in the path of the three Mary’s”. Over there in the desolate place, a columbine carries me imprisoned on my heels as a bond of a son who makes my steps with the Columbine of my saving feet” At 320 meters of altitude Still, Life appeared concealed behind the Vas Áuric descending…, here everyone approached the auric circle of Moral that made them authors of the proximity of the Universe falling on Greece, and the Herbolaria that fell with all its reliable structure in the foliage where many more species appeared such as thilts, Laurel, Olive, Linen, Grenade in a simple and nuanced devotional with the pro status of the delegate; the same Hexagonal Primogeniture to make the cinnabar fistulas that were elemental by the different associated colors, and by Grail tutorials that looked indigo on top of some Rhododendrons. If it is eschatological, it is in the mystical nets of the Empyrean further from a form that is said to be called a form of antagonism, between Cardinals and their dead Lilies. As first among the last, the bulbous and clayey Tulip of the orbital and basilica symbology, peacemaker and philosophical Eritrean for spiritual quests that toil outpourings from the Empyrium, reaching the Messiah on his Colt on his way to Bethany. Around the Monastery, everyone could be seen as they arrived to the beat of the cymbals and aulós, among lyres that prowled tickling the inquiry to rest their fingers, or perhaps dressed by some Trojan villain augur in those of "Daedalus". Being the latter, here a tulip with flames of a true seeker trying to sacrifice subsistence daring over the risk of the resole of salvific death or perhaps dressed by some Trojan villain augur in those of "Daedalus".
Daedalus says: “After the incident with Perdix, I Daedalus was expelled from Athens. I then went to Crete, and in the kingdom of Minos I was placed in the service of the monarch. One of his tasks was the creation of Thalos, an animated bronze giant who defended the island from invasions. By order of Minos, I built the labyrinth to enclose the monster; the labyrinth was a building with countless corridors and winding streets opening into each other, which seemed to have no beginning and no end. Minos locked me up with my son Icarus, whose mother was Naucrate, a slave of Minos in the same building. The reason for the confinement was the collaboration of Daedalus in the escape of Theseus from the labyrinth, I have to lament for the ****** of Perdix, now turned into Partridge who now carries in his claws the creation of the Universe-Duoverse, turned into his own, and myself in envy neither harassing me about my endings, and neither starting nor finishing. That is why I appear here coming from Crete, to wrap myself in the garden and its mystery closing all the madrigals and hedges, like a world that has created me, in its splendor, seeing the humility fragrant with violets grafted onto lavender with my soul now, of a somewhat syncretism Hebrew-Hellenic and Mythological sub-Mythological, like a nobleman who walks free and without chains… passing through the Parthenon to put on tiaras in dresses that are adorned with Linens, but of evangelical lineage here in Kimolo.

In Kimolos; Helleniká Necropolis, Etréstles was suspended in a columbarium equivalent near the lapidem of the necropolis. There was a great amount of accumulated air enclosed in the musty cinerary walls, with the translucent specters that fluttered through other metropolises that transited inconsistently in their proto-masonry, and some resembled pink jaspers on some grooved slabs, letting pale dovecote rhizomes slip away under an oblique columbarium domain that manifested itself meagerly on an unstable podium of Folegandros. Adhering to this enormous exteriorization were Kanti, and Etréstles in their hydrothermal genesis, lying as a petra forms at a wide range of heat towards periodic effluvia of their Devonian geology, manifesting discreetly until a carbonization of sedimentary rocks attributing their curiosity when they continued to remain in areas favorable climatic conditions, simulating to be exordiums on thermal hydro sediments, leading to the carbonization of the surface of the necropolis with micas and serpentines, to cool down in the selfless natural fields that resisted the effect of the heat generated by the ZigZag Universe, etching each other on pyrites and graphite’s with the compactness that increases, and extends the widening of the mournful enclosure attentive to channeling emanations and traces, that will be the first loads of exegesis from Tsambika for prompt elucidation from Mount Hymettus in Athens, and continue to proliferate in hives of bees libating in its thickness towards the good-smelling necropolis causing its magnificent flowers and herbs to steam; so much so, that from the paved lipoids of honey astragalus and spectra will come out deposing to be toxic, yearning the strigilas or curved striaeons (reverse or straight), imitated from pagan sarcophagi.

Thousands after Thousands of Centuries after centuries, adorning themselves in the lapidem glossaries on the exterior fronts of tymbos that were embedded in the tholons, almost as in outright Constantine-Hellenic brilliance towards an unarmed cenotaph with their flat covers, pouring over them the devastated trisomy of Kaitelka, of whose diploid organism extras, aberrated by being parity triplicates of their greatest chromosomal and homologous hereditary complement. The vestiges of fossil whales here were generating disproportions of execrable variation, being destined to the patio of fall on them in three additional courtyards of marbles at the rate of inverted strata, revealing only some of their extremities appreciating them with semi-covered figures, and on reliefs filling again by genetic trisomy for gentile practices and lead them to the Christian Vas Auric. Faced with such a famous disproportion of fossil reliefs, they turn to the scourges of the Universe.

Panagia Theoskepasti Parapsychological regression Etréstles in Kímolos: The church of Theoskepasti, due to its position could be easily recognized by the invaders during their raids. However, according to a legend the church was veiled by dark clouds of mist and became invisible as soon as the assailants approached. Due to this legend the church received the name "Theoskepasti" from the Greek words "Theos" and "skepazo" meaning "God" and "watch" respectively. So, the name is 'God Veiled'. According to another tradition, when once a foreigner managed to get into the church and tried to steal the golden candle divine power cut off his hands. Also if it is watched over by God, so it is divine for the Creation that it will begin with the synchronization between both latitudes of the Cyclades and the Dodecanese. Etrestles After staying together with Kanti, they went from Theoskepasti to Hellenika, located in Dekas Bay on the west coast of Kimolos, here in the necropolis there are ruins of ancient tombs that would form part of the new humanity in the creation of the Duoverse, existing since Mycenae and the Cyclades next to the small islet of Agiоs Аndreas, also being part of the city. Many ruined tombs can be seen from the hill on the edge of Elliniká with some stones still in the sea between Kimol and Milil, in the vicinity of Psathi on this island located on the southeast coast. Kímolоs to Chοrá is 1 km away on the hill above the Psathi port from here the foreign ships trying to come to the Bay area sighted, for the advent of the Cinnabar on the scapulae that hold the Gates of the Necropolis for the effect avant-garde, and regenerator of souls that will resurface with more universal chromosome tints mutated from trisomy, more of extreme longevity. In the homily, an archpriest of the regional deanery will make a pastoral criterion for this gesture by virtue of eminence, and guide them through the orthodoxy of the chapel to the Episcopal organizational procession of the Vas Auric. It was already twilight and Etrestles was climbing onto Kanti's pony clutching the utensils of the homily, in the customary ritual before incensing and setting fire to the laurel and rosemary in the fords of Leto and Koumeterium of Messolonghi, it rotated in ellipses sprinkling crumbs of the purest loaf from Arcadia on a gray Monday with hummus to attract sour souls that they were in a catatonic state making them more esthetic or aesthesis, of reactionary rebellious natural aesthetics with nuances, then reincorporate them into the three courtyards in a magnificent concordance with Rhodes. When the Archpriest begins the talk, he derives his prayers from semi-inert materials that were made in communion with the chromosomal dyes; with the worms with absentmindedness of progenitor snakes that were grafted undulating, being in reality only worms that were amazed at the exhortation of the Archpriest in the ritual, circulating universals destined for his elegies and celebrating from an ambo or pulpit with classical Latin pronouncing the archpriest the way it died lunae, mutating it ****** to dies lunis by analogy with dies, on a dark Monday day but full of grace for the assistants doing the sermons to interpret the alabaster patios that will lead to Tsambika. The first worms were persecuted by Kanti, he believed that they were scatterings that emerged from the ground, such an earthly ecosystem was beginning to disown him due to the metamorphosis of annelids which seemed to increase their ultra-grave texture with the same remains of an irresolution without a sarcophagus, turned into sharp curves intestinal that were depressed breathing autonomously on consistent folds of the dermis of the oldest caste of the subsoil of Helleniká. Preexisting the distant origin of the Arcadias and they're dissected that silently followed the hummus and bobota, not to digest them with their suckers, but rather surround them and delegate them to explore the surroundings that would encapsulate the ground with the proximity of the transfigured universe to Vernarth's Duoverse, to phosphorus and emit the will-o'-the-wisp nitrogenous fires before the Archpriest, Etréstles and Kanti disquieting by an arcane movement. Being a full act of the herbaceous phagocytosis, they continued ascending in the curvilinear procession with their traces weaving moment without time, which was added to the sub-mythology and a finite sub-time, like unicellular procreating others that accelerated their physiognomy detached from their immateriality, towards a longer intake of the organic material on the hummus and exudation of propolis rhizomes. In this way, they resign when falling with serious cramps cleared of the digestive world, which no cell has tasted ******, but rather direct when breathing from Hellinika's lung lobes, comprised mostly by the alabaster sheepskin that was suspended to other colonies of worms that sailed to lean out towards the surface of the altar where they regenerated from the flow of the annelids. Archpriest says: “The frame of the Vas Áuric arises from the nuclei of the medallion, pending a high presence of insulation. With high mobility between the tissues and amino acids of the annelids, new basal cell functions even being visible for Etréstles and not totally for all yet. The image of the medal had a classified functionality and concrete information, but imperceptible chronological possibly being the first function of the icon in its justification with religious symbols and manifestations of the divine, and semantic still removed from a theoretical auto-iconic. When reading in Vas Auric, "What two men do not see, a man sees who does not see..., what the creeping animal sees, self-prisoner of his lack of vanity..., He will see it". Being epistemic images that provide more distant knowledge of the sub-divisible organic matter in finite mortality towards the other eternal inorganic, contributing to the super complex neuronal development, in a veiled sensation that is lost between itself and its own bodies, being able to take them with its own differentiations”

Panagia Tsambika Monastery - Channeling Cinnabar: Vernarth commanded the three architectural courtyards of Tsambika for the Cinnabar layout. They climb the steps that lead to this monastery at the top of one and to the very connection of the homily with Helleniká. In this monastery they will have to censor three courtyards, all pointing towards the west of Mandraki Bay, on some pine trees all surrounding the virtual stained glass window of the portal that joins the main avenue with the ascent of the monastery, until very close to the Virginal Marianus icon and very close to the dividing wall from where Lindos can be seen. The Tsambika Monastery is four kilometers from the city of Archangelo, the height of the monastery is leveled with pebbles on its bare floor that led everyone barefoot, towards the three nearby patios. Cinnabar as a polygonal crystal would be specially used for the perpendicular ceremony of Mercury, to sensitize the climatologically the variation that would be appreciated once it began to sponsor the bones that would spread in the extreme longevity of annelids exchanged from the moldy alabaster arcades, and carried by alluviums of crystallized mercury, granting together with the Panagia of Tsambika fertility, and parental conception for the new Universe-Duoverse of Vernarth, extending life farther than the first-born descendant's first ancestor, being the cinnabar the diversity of versed uses now been given in the upright channeling with ultra vital extensions with Helleniká. The alabaster and the three columns of these sulfated stones form compact would dare to hydrate in the silos where the windows will be poured, this is where the sub-mythological specimens detached from any temporal dimension will be used, leaving sapiens annelids free will recombining the diploid chromosomes, and profiting from molds of exact erratic aberrations to be vindicated in the dispensaries of Saint John the apostle. Thus adorning the perfumed areas intervened three cinnabar patios, for the sermon of the Vas Áuric. Thus inspiring the chair with the verses of Saint John on the immanence after the fifty days of the Messiah in epistolary verses and the evangelizations, elaborating vessels of the low rank of Faith to opt for expectations of moldings with new consciences of selenite clay, and refine them in messianic faith. Middle-range pebbles were subtracted for the interior and extramural floor of the Monastery, being rather Biblical Calcite for the Egyptian-Hellenic Alabastron psalmody praise perfume. This typology will be the quilt for the magistracy with a canopy glass exhibited near the tulip lamps, and ceiling lights of the monastery for the use of the diamantine sphere of the opaque panels that flamed from the intersection of the arachnids re sprouting from the current wind of cinnabar. Vernarth says: “Suitable for our consciences, we will open the channels in Kímolos before our subtle bodies that will make us divided just as we parabolize ourselves, before the airs of St. John the Apostle in the headdress of mediumship to reach the wavelength to Helleniká, the interactive vibrations will leave with the expression of deep reasoning after pontificating the Mandylion with the Vas Áuric, for the effect of its icon and idiomatic monologues for the edges of San Judas Tadeo and Veronica, for such a faced event in foreign forces before the Messiah, a coherent gadget will be made in the intermittence variants. The channeling to the Cyclades will go from east to west wading the Aegean and Mediterranean waters, through the channel of the Universe-Duoverse for inter consciousness between the Hexagonal Primogen in Tsambika, and the triad of Etréstles, Kanti, and the Archpriest in Helleniká, with high degrees of the light consciousness and conclaves between both synchronous homilies. With drowsiness before the Anemoi winds that will be crossing near the voyages of the Trojan chthonic ships, and before the fateful chthonic divinities for such deities in the Mediterranean substratum identifying more obviously with Anatolia which since prehistory has followed to the site of Troy, in a cheesy union plan for Agamemnon's loyalists, to defeat Hector between farms and revolutions of agriculture, and Akkadian worlds b.C., in peripheral outposts to influence the central regions of Greece and its maritime trade. Hydro-physical influences, for the cycles of the solstice and nature with life and survival after death that is at the center of concerns that are not translated. In Crete, the supposed cult of great Gods is transformed during the second millennium BC as new actors appear: various animals, plants, etc. Given the consciousness, it will be the channeled light in the three courtyards of alabaster and between the cinnabar by bending the re-fertilization of the Cyclades channels, which go from Rhodes and Kimolos, for discernment. Sometimes it is more gratifying to hear what you want to hear and not the real message, the egotistical mind that does not come from a series of daunted egos..., or signs of the technological shamanism, intervening artificial intelligence from maniacal administered consciences, being shrill for worlds of appearances and illusions. I Vernarth with our own Khaire Fíle…, in my mind I go to the vessels that sail through the landscapes of the elusive identity, trapping her in the totemic stratum, and tracking psychology, but a seer of her present ego. Today I will wear my Leonatus cap, to separate his anger from such a shadow that clouds my grief, and my own victimhood of reduced and meekness which spurns violence, blaming it on a ruthless kind of depression and excluding shame from everyone's own fear of everything. I will bandage my eyes against diseases that will heal after three days, to straighten the ecstasy that thickens towards the scaffold, staying in Golgotha with nothing, I will create the framework of cinnabar for the pain of the skull that trembles in my claws, until sleep becomes vaporous with anger and the harmless destroying itself before your egos, colorful throbbing towards your alien beings and scarified host. I will be waking up from my subtle and anthropomorphic subconscious dreams, with sentences that hurt my worst self-destructive delinquencies before the new memorial, on the veil of Theoskepasti with its science sheltering itself by giving in on the vanquished springs and inaugurating new miraculous courses where I will surrender, full of forgiveness and more distant from the veil that does not act as a viewer.

Duet time, Duet space, one with the other illusion unreal elements and epistemic images ignoring them in expeditions crackle my Duoverse, and temples of Tsambika with the decoded annelids mutating in trisomy with flat doors towards the Olives Berna. We look at what gratifies basting and plotting the positions of the stars of the universe that are attached like sheets worthy of almighty serials, and redoubled humor on the chthonic embracing tridents, before skewing Xyston as an original replica of the dream of a night in Tel Gomel. The counterweight of the message of light lagged behind the high astral like the little bear, bustards, and her angelic breath retreated in dissolution..., now if diva emotion I have my daring, and courage towards the binge of my omniscient prosopon, similar to omniscient telepathy, my soul lies and my emotion too because in this way I will treasure the value of panic by surrounding myself with the fears of resting, against the poles and sights of a peaceful energetic confrontation that will make them in Rhodes and Kimolos, channel the consumed human finitude and not eternal ad portas of his Áspis Koilé.

Unconsciously they will continue halfway with their bouquets of flowers for Valekiria, and may they never really take the time to tell her what time of eternity will make them more crowded for her, and her reliquary poem bursting into flame with its insidious outbreak and fear of telling him that if they revive they will be other Hellenic Hetairoi towards the vermilion light of the embodied sacrificed loop state as a "Being of Light". Oh ghost phenomenon that doesn't scare me... rather disappoints, clinging to the skins that die in the unexpected female muses in Gaia, with my burning and hypertensive ballast, still frequent in me... As conjecture and presence of Greek life..., having to be promoted and involved where they should be tempered to the contribution of biodiverse, and species for island life and its balance in the Aegean. The theorem will enunciate in the image of the Vas Auric as sounds of homeostasis in classrooms, properties of intervened annelids consistent, capable of maintaining them in a certain internal and stable condition, compensating for the changes of the explosion of the intervened patios, towards an environment through regulated exchange of matter and energy with the outside towards its (comparative metabolism), in the case of a form of dynamic balance with properties of Cinnabar brilliance, as a self-regulated biosphere in the conditions of the planet to make its environment (especially temperature and atmospheric chemistry) nobler with the species that make up life in the compass of two unmanned islands by beings from Gaia, rather as entropy in physical magnitude for a thermodynamic system in equilibrium, inhabited by dynamic beings that associate nobly for adaptations of worlds that are not born. It segregates them towards a departure measuring them from heightened numbers in states of zero compatible with the laws of that physics for the purposes of watchful guardians if Gaia's engine is turned on before this psychic and spiritual combustion. The laws of this system with closed circuits and brought will tend to maximize the entropy expiring inhibitory reactions for the traces of oxygen and nitrogen of the worms, making a sign of the levitated carbon dioxide to take it from Tsambika in two converged energies of Leviathan and Saint John the Apostle in moles of carbonate dioxide, battling surviving the impostor necromancers adverse to their conditions and reproduction, keeping these habitable for many who do not they enjoyed the life-death-life cycle. Greece, as it will now look regenerated and appropriate of laws and extensive fibers concerning moles of molecules said to be equal of said Vernarth hypotheses by way of sub-mythology, rather perching on the growing ivy and strangling the signs of satiety of life with properties in consonance with severities that hurt even to the sound of the rattles before the passing of the millennia! Fear, insecurity, and frustration did not fit because they will cut the Diospyros abenuz, with its stamens usually sixteen more hypogynous or inserted at the base of the corolla; as female flowers being greened or being converted into staminodes, Diospyros with generally tetra-locular ovaries or with eight locules due to false divisions, will make us channel by inseminating Itheoi demigods, under the staff of sub-mythology with Zefián, before the migrations in Helleniká begin, just as in this pact with silence and meditation and a burning flame, below the vulnerable and high insolated frequencies..., waking up in Gaia as a dozing fairy. Shamanic vested will grade synergy and simple science.
The Homily in the natural lassitude of the created, the Duoverse presented IHΣ, falling in the eighteenth letter of the Greek alphabet and in the duo hundred changes of physical remembrance. The PH (Hexagonal Primogeniture), is conceived in the presence of the Crismón, more Hellenic with the Vexillum banner and the Kantabroi to rescind the tired depressed zephyrs, since the quantum of memory was lost in the integrity of an earth acrophobia for the subsequent it would be air-water for this reason, preceded by the ceremonial that begins with the trimming of the abenuz Diospyros with its stamens usually sixteen plus it's hypogynous or inserted at the base of the corolla; like those of the female flowers having part of the gynoecium in the part of Tsambika, and of the androecium that will be of the Diospyros in Theoskepasti; usually tetra-ocular ovaries adapted to be inseminated for the raids of the demigods Itheoi and Duoverso, with the monogram HDD (Horcondising-Duoverso), tracing the bifurcations with Zefián; the chaos ordering up to modulated Theoskepasti. The changes have to be reborn in the stamen, being almost sterile and aborting in the chronicles of Galilee personifying the pollination benefit of the Diospyros resprouting in the same stem of the whorl even more so in each stigmatized part of Vernarth and Etréstles, carrying the IHS candles with the monogram and the Mandylion-Vas Auric, pointing to the Olives Bern. Before the seams of the carved heels and the canals of the annelids rise up through the alabaster up to the calyxes with the Chrismon hat. Filling the warehouse of Anemoi himself struggling with the roof, and forgetting his deposit of the breath on synaptic abbreviations continuing to argue with Saint John the Apostle in the network of Rhodes and Kimolos, in the bark of the sensory past and consequence of fallen gushes, and affecting being restored on the basis of oxygen-nitrogenated Nemo-genetic activation to summarize loss and gain of channeling between the Cyclades and the Dodecanese. The memories of the stuck Vernarth cerebellum will be loaded, trembling towards the marsh of the hippocampus where Zoroaster led the Magi to the end of the span and first-last border in the vicinity of Ein Karem. This evolutionary scale fluctuated in weak air masses with the increasing rise of the Meltemi over the Aegean taking them to Dekas Bay, on the knees of the colossus that cursed to avoid some delirium that could replace it's joint, remaining like this on a scale of reminiscent and unspoken emptiness..., it continues to be stated and not occupied and not, but raised towards the colossus from the ground of Vernarth which had unfolded bipartite from Rhodes to Kimolos, by way of the Verthian neuroscience whose prose emanated in the submissive glaciers of hyper-intuitive meditation (as a technique of knowledge and abstraction for functional links of improvisation, purgative discernment and yogic memory). All the nonsense is alluded to infringing the rationality of the Vas Áuric ceremonial in its phenomenology making curvilinear pauses to re-captivate phraseological, and diminished keys in the condensed equivalents to approximately ten terabytes from a homologous half surrendering almost when exhausted before both scholars, and their debts exchanged by driving..., thus recovering wave descents before reaching the bay of Dekas; Kímolos and final in the necropolis of Hellenika..., and vice versa before re-climbing in the middle of Mandraki, Archangelos and Filerimos to finish in Tsambika, Rhodes. As a parallel response to the archpriest not to alter the IHS monogram of the homily and the association in remembrance can affect the conduction of the mediate trance, almost prostrating it in the house of omission and frenzy, if it has to recover unstabilized. The sulfurous mercury component of the Cinnabar, came acidifying from the essences of the Vas Auric, already prospering in the tutelage of each auric conductor..., Archpriest and Saint John the Apostle, each one with the sulfurous of the Greek mountain and the arch of the Aegean Sea as a former karstic foundation for its diametric towards a change of reaction of chemical prisms up to the multi-angular of the topaz that Saint John the Apostle carried in his bag near the reliquary, hanging off some fringes of the Vexillum that had been placed near Vernarth. Immediately from the banks of the monastery, Raeder was walking with a lantern looking for those who might try to enter, he believed that it was his father from Kalymnos who came on another mission to be taken to the cinnabar, more on top of an encourage observing the quarters stationed in the sandbanks of Rhodes, Petrobus the pelican circling the ledges of the monastery, marking out the apparent slackness of his body and entreaties in case they ventured into Kalymnos for a good portent, in waters for tenth seeds and for all the rodines. From the cloister with one of its necessary dependencies, all were with white candles aggravated between the steps of each cell and attached friars they made an antechamber in the nave near the church on the hexagonal floor, being screened by the center of the garden where everything was dominated by the limits of the alabaster arcades, which only now pointed to the closet of the books, this time with plenty and saved voices with devotion. Chapter by chapter it was won..., for each cell, identifying each portion in identity up to the scriptorium and refectory, where this ceremony books were distributed to the infinite world of the Duoverse near the locutory to witness where Saint George and the Dragon raged, souring winepresses for the missal wine.

Sequence shot in Kimolos, Panagia Theoskepasti- Etréstles says: “according to what has to be said in this dimension, the word will be the Duoverse. Synchronically it will be aligned with the monastery in the Tsambika for the third hour after noon, reflecting on the unrevealed walls of the chapel on all the radiosities of the cinnabar, entering in electromagnetic lassitude through the trusses of the pulpit anchored in the Vox and mystical vortex, towards those who entered and left thousands of times through the counter shutters of the chapel, which collided crashing many times until by the glow of Cinnabar somewhat sulfurous, was mixed with the interlocking of some novas which also acted as a decoy for the Chrismón that Kanti carried the steed adjusted in the saddle on his back, as a mount in syntactic esotericism speaking with intangible brown colors of the Cinnabar.
Vas Auric
And he said that he knows for a fact:
Girls with freckles are happier.

And I told him I’ve heard
That one before,
But he said that he made it up on the spot,
In the bed we’ve made, our sheets less **** –
Creased and dimpled by our weighing bodies –  

When I nagged on him to tell me what he loves
About me on the inside,
Where we’re taught what counts,
Where you’re not allowed to ask,
Where sometimes it’s just too good not to.

On the inside, he listed:
Lungs, liver, ovaries perhaps –
The parts that everyone has,
The parts that can be left unspoken.
And I told him he’s a smart-***.

But on the outside, he touched my cheeks,
I love your freckles because they prove
You’ve lived
Felt the sun on your skin – it’s sunlight sprinkles, after all
Laughed so hard, as they are uneven and all around
That way maybe, every time, your laugh
Scattered them all.
GQ James Dec 2020
The symptoms of pcos are endless,
It causes many issues for the ovaries,
There's no cure for this but there need to be one,
It makes it harder for her to get pregnant,
It makes it harder for her Emotionally,
It makes it harder for her Mentally.

God has the last say in all of this,
Don't worry for those who suffer from this,
I know it's painful and draining,
Don't give up on having children,
It may be difficult but it's not impossible,
Never knew much about this,
But wanted to speak about it.

Many women are battling with this,
It can be easy but in due it will get easier,
Hang in there and keep the faith,
God has the last say not the doctors,
Anything is possible through the grace of God,
Miracles happen everyday.

The anxiety and depression can get the best of you,
Hold on to your faith,
Stay prayed up,
The symptoms will have you Emotional,
But there's nothing you can,
This is a test so just keep fighting,
God will see this through.
DON'T GIVE UP. KEEP FIGHTING.
King Bacon Oct 2014
With each poem,
I get closer in becoming a lovable Golem.

So what's hot in the streets
I’m mean
I beat women,
OG
I’ve seen prison
I even eat kittens
We winning
Mr. Kelly met me
he let me *** with him.

I’m so deep with words it could sound like an eternity
one day they will close read my rhymes in every university
I only make vinyls
and I serve emcees that burn CDs,
I’m so undergrounds even my fans haven’t even heard of me,
nah,
I got money son,
all my watches are custom done
by the time
I set the time
my butler comes with another one
I’m gutter son,
the razors in my mouth are just to cut my gums,
My facebook is set to private son
you don’t know where the **** I’m from

Imma poet,
roses are red
Moses ovaries bled
Supernova explodes,
when my pen exposes it led.
I once mounted a soul, when its body was chemically dead,
If you don’t know my poetries dope, its because its going over your head,
nah,

I’m so Hip Hop I crip walk in flip flops,
Imma mix of Rick ross, and lil kris kross,
Imma gang banger
nah,
scratch that, imma backpacker,
rap is just a stepping stone in becoming a bad actor,
imma crack rapper,
actually sponsor by arm and hammer
I **** with some proper grammar
make government propaganda
What ever it takes to get my face in front a hundred cameras
**** rap!
I’ll tell everyone in the stands to throw their hands up,

What I am
should be obvious.

Imma positive rapper I swear my mom is a pastor
I got a pocket quran
I almost read all of the chapters,
and Imma get a couple grammys,
yep and an emmy,
I'm family friendly,
even your old freakin granny gets me.

Back in the day when life gave us lemons
we made lemonade
never straight
never made a track that was second grade
In seventh grade
it was never about getting paid
thats why we spend more money than we ever made,
I used to love it but **** it,
I’m giving up
imma puppet,
I’m anything,
I’m everything, if you got money in your pocket
Congratulations to sponsors on creating a monster
All you haters are just making me stronger

And now all my fans hate me,
They say “I liked you before you were mainstream”
******* so did I somebody should of paid me
Imma Iconic,
byproduct,
And no ones tryna buy product,
Ironic,
want my chronic
but won’t put five on it,
but I promise,
give me an idea and i’ll build it,
I make your eyes pop out of your eye sockets,
so y’all can go ahead and be some hip hop heads,
pressing free download’,
until hip hops dead,
Please,
just keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
make sure you keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
make sure you keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
just keep on spitting
Please!!!
Some candy bars for the kids.
B E Cults Aug 2019
Visions,
smoke rings and grocery lists,
ovaries to kicks;
prisons of genetic streaming.

Kings dream of thieves
and thieves dream of
learning shinier schemes.

Laugh when the moon
sings eternally.

Laugh when spoonfuls of sense
are lifted by my shaking hand.

Laugh when anyone spits into
the abyss forever at their feet.

Laugh when the prismatic facsimiles
of mastery are scattering in the winds of change.

Laugh like it's the last cadaver stacked.

No scavengers.

No glass to crack.

No Saturn's curse.

None of that.

So laugh.
Laugh like the mad *******
you act like only exist
in past saturdays spent
in the bastion that was your grandmother's backyard.


Laugh.
Please, for ****'s sake, laugh.

— The End —