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1 ;Officer Brian Sicknick – Capitol Police officer, injured during the riot; died the next day. He was crushed. ( this is on video)

2 Officer Howard Liebengood – Capitol Police officer; died days later, connected to stress from the riot. He descended into madness and couldn't cope.

3 ' Kevin Greeson – Got so worked up chanting "**** Mike Pence " and building  gallows that he suffered a heart attack during the riot and none of the other goons stopped to help.. ( clear video of him chanting)

4 ; Rosanne Boyland – bedazzled mom , crushed in a crowd surge.

5 ;Benjamin Philips – got stuck in a mob  and overheated died of a stroke  participating in the riot.

6 ; Ashli Babbitt – shot by Capitol Police after threatening them while attempting to climb through a barricaded door.

Now ask yourself , if you had so much blood on your tiny little hands would they let you walk for inciting a deadly insurrection. ?

THESE PEOPLE DIED !   and their  blood IS  on Donald J Trumps spoiled, never worked , New York  Country Club,   ****,  Epstein Island V.I.P.,  1583 missing children in cages,   Veteran and cancer kid  scamming,   incapable  hands.

No matter what some whitewashed report says, those people died because of January 6,       full stop.               They didn’t die at home on the couch,                                      they didn’t die in their beds. They died because a sitting president whipped them into a violent mob and told them to      “fight like hell.”     They died because he  lit the match       posted the tweets    demanded the loyal act   created the frenzy , and then

tried to blame the fire on the woodpile !
Bribe enough judges and or give them their jobs   and watch how much blood you can make disappear.  What would Roosevelt say? Lincoln? Jefferson? Is this the country I served to protect? My friends and family fought and died for something better than   him , than this.
Maria Oct 2014
I feel so inclined towards you yet I feel so distant.
Whenever I believe I am attaining closeness, I'm shown exactly how far back I truly am.
I see myself as a participant in this race
In reality I am simply a spectator, onlooking,
as each person passes me by.
I yearn for those spells of closeness I am exposed to
Those veils that are lifted, sometimes for a mere second, others longer,
before I am cut off and the doors sealed.
I must not let myself slip or fall any further
For in those moments the screens rise, no longer do I wander blindly.
The wounds begin to heal
I'm lost in the ecstasy, hypnotized by the beauty
The light reflects off me and all that is around me
The moment it goes blank I feel empty and lost
I am confined in the darkness, my entirety submerged in the blackness
The journey I planned, comes to an abrupt stop
Many paths lay ahead of me, decorated with the allures of the world.
I refuse to let the ugly beauty trap me
I find myself to be at war once again
My thoughts, confused and chaotic. Which path do I take?
Every move I make must be strategically planned in order to win this battle
And I shall continue participating in this battle, positioned on the front line
Alone
With steal for amour and my mind erasing all that is trivial, insignificant.

I have hope this bitter struggle will be worth it, that there is a reward
This goal cannot be achieved of my own accord
I pray, with your guidance, your mercy and your blessings, you will forbid me from straying
You will conduct and influence the steps I take towards you.


© maria.who
Zulu Samperfas Jun 2013
The heat of the laptop seeps through the Israeli pillow on my lap
My life on hold for the last few weeks, now about to be completely gone
for this last week
I'm a performing idiot for authorities I cannot see
participating in this hot steaming mess in the company
of little picture icons of other "students"
I didn't have to move yet to take these classes
which is good, since they started before my job ended
but I am living an isolated farce, of pressure coming through my wi fi
is it real?  the quiet, sweaty summer, my plans shelved for now
all fun awaits as I read, read, write in little responses in little boxes and have
take some video, upload to little boxes and
the unimaginable happened yesterday, my wifi was down
so I called and looked and sweated and finally took sleeping pills
hoping tomorrow the laptop on the footstool would come to life
and it did, so the process continues
reading,  sweating
little boxes of information returned to me
How I long to just meet these people, once, in a room
Joanie Poston Feb 2013
We must make things right
The Human misery has caused great pain and suffering
A darkness to grow and evil power to take over our world
The human race has lost sight
Must regain through the power of love
Not of just one person
The people of the whole
Love must grow and thrive
We must hang onto it and pass it around like a joint
This must be the year of a new era a revolution

***** facebook, cell phones, and twitter
It all just makes for a society so bitter
The face on the tv screen
Isn't just another sad teen
Its someones child, brother, sister, best friend
There is all too much violence
And way too much silence
Speak up!!
Don't let the words be unsaid


If we don't regain this sight
Technology has blinded from us
We all sit around not participating in this fight
Win the war against evil
Not with guns
And knives mind you
Then I'm afraid my friend..
I fear that everything will come to an end
I'm scared for my town that I live in. Every day there are more and more ****** and killings on the news. Its so sad. Before I just brushed it off like that towns doomed anyways. But then I realized that these are real people. They belong to someone, they belong to us. We can't ignore the pain and suffering that so many people are going through. I'm so sick of war. Guns and knives. I wish there was someway we could fix our world. Its saddens me so much how so many young and innocent lives are lost everyday. Through suicide, ******, sickness. The world is a scary place. I'm sorry I just have alot of thoughts on this subject.
Steve Page May 2018
I live by daily participating
and not by distant gesticulating.

I live by putting love into action,
not by singing for holy intervention.

I live by getting both hands soiled,
not sanitised and kept unspoiled.

If you want to follow the Nazarene
you can't keep your hands wet wipe clean.

This is life as he envisaged -
living like we're one big village.

Roll up your sleeves to each elbow,
let's serve together and not alone.

This is life as Jesus did it -
all hands-on, with dirt and spit!
A stolen idea from a open mike night: Jesus worked with dirt and spit. John 9:6.
Thanks Andy Freeman.
Kalliope Sep 16
Refuge to some,
A battlefield to others,
A chronically online
Midwest single mother-
Who loves to lay in the rain
And feel it on her skin
Enjoying all the storms outside,
Though they all come from within.

Is she a tornado?
Or maybe a meteor shower?
Beautiful in what she does-
not recognizing her power
Or maybe it's a fault,
To hide away in the in-between?
Participating in all activities while remaining completely unseen.

She glides right through your sky,
A pretty view for you-
Until she lands upon your ground
Destruction does ensue.
You thought she was just mesmerizing,
Easily made to bend,
If that's the kind of love you crave
You've picked the wrong girlfriend.

She puts things back together
At a slowed down lego pace,
And when she doesn't like the result?
Her progress completely erased.
So it's back to the drawing board,
Though she's never been good with paint.
Maybe some blame falls to you,
loving chaos but expecting a saint.
If I'm mindful of your trauma
And you're mindful of mine
Don't you think it'd be easier?
I guess easy has never been our vibe
katewinslet Nov 2015
Have you ever have you ever wondered how you decided to go out of your youngster which cannot sit down even so, in to the older exactly who can't get going? Specialists myself this not long ago while i required my own 3-year-old son on the playground in the fast food fine dining. The girl likes play areas and for that reason can i. Within an practically chaotic charge, this woman started degree each and every crawl for the equipment, and i surveyed all the location all around me personally. Issues i found happen to be young people learning and fogeys either working to disagree their kids from the play area, or even receive their children by sitting still and finish his / her nutrition previous to they success all of the play ground. None of the little ones were definitely employing an important recliner seeing encounter. These folks were as well participating in the application and / or anxious towards. A lot of kids are afraid and fearful, keep in mind, however, the mind-boggling predatory instincts of kids is always to begin and then perform that is likely, perhaps even from the cost creating a their bodies. They seem to possess little the fear of exploring scary or getting on, in particular the newest of which. What actually transpired to us older individuals? Any time made most people turned out to be reluctant? While does you shut down the youngster within people and get started to imagine very much? Anytime have done we decide that we had to increase right up? One of the most popular instructors in class taught and practiced focusing. An actor themself, your dog stated one day this individual hoped he never become adults, because your childlike intuition usually are everything that prevent the contentment in addition to contemplate in the work Fitflops Malaysia. That will sense of perform and additionally make-believe is normally genuine for any very good actor and also we'd better not get rid of the idea, he said. Designed for celebs, childishness is actually a closest friend. We were young is without a doubt high risk. Doing it steals everyone of our liberty and the drive to never miss almost everything. It really is . u . s . nervous and suspect and even unsafe. It can make usa check out completely new most people while folks and not potential associates. Most importantly, doing it helps keep you through located to complete capability. So what happened to all of us? I do think it absolutely was a little something generally known as anticipation -- more specifically, other people's targets amongst us.

Whenever we're also tiny, out of origination to a few and 4-years good old, the only therapy in life is usually to enjoy. Much of our merely job might be darling in order to really like. Areas is just play the game. What could be more effective? ; however ,, even as we grow up, starting to possess presumptions have on people. We will need to produce much of our base, we will have to pay a visit to education, we surface finish a lot of our research, rinse off the automobile, acquire a project Fitflop Thailand, for example., and so on. You need to become older with our family members, employment, assignments plus obligations. Not forgetting any skilled constraints who travel united states accomplish the property or truck as well as gadgets that produce the best opinion. Pretty soon our personal sensation of bold along with marvel sheds with what were "supposed to remain.Inch Being concerned about whatever we are should be inhibits the young child within us all, posessing obviously that will his or her main objective on this planet is usually to enjoy yourself. Who seem to pointed out you could not are located your whole lifespan with that stunning electricity of audacious and then enjoyment?

Growing up ought not to suggest letting go of the most basic nature. We all need not allow for themselves to end up being controlled through much of our the fear of not really surviving roughly other people's requirements. Of course this does not mean you might want to setback your expenses not to mention accountability favoring the use of performing regardless of what feels good through the decisive moment. The things I am telling you to ultimately conduct rather is to help to make selections which often provide pleasure and even happiness. Decide on a profession that will fills up a cardiovascular with your bank account. Appreciate all your family members and people on you in addition to value the whole set of connections for you. Potential earnings you have to reside lifestyle exclusively on your own stipulations. Dwell your own fact. In the event that other people's expected values be a control in the products that you use, you allow out the facility to view your special happiness. A fellow called Gil Bailie and once mentioned, "

Don't ask these questions : precisely what the environment necessities. Ask these questions : why do anyone enhance their lives and then look do just that mainly because just what marketplace preferences can be those who enhance their lives Cheap Fitflop Malaysia.Inches Make it ones own task in life to completely shine. You and the marketplace will be better for doing it. Trademark 2004 Microphone Pniewski
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Àŧùl Feb 2015
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Elizabeth Ann Nov 2013
I look at my teachers
Who stand in the very front
Of every single class
And teach me how to be
How to grow and learn
And be well rounded

I think of everything they know
All which they have learned
From textbooks
And from life
All of which they share
And that of which they don't

I think of their kindness
Sometimes their hatred
How they smile and joke
Or judge and yell
Why they are who they are
And how they came to be

I think about their days
Every day is spent
Within four walls
With hundreds of teens
Who hardly give a ****
And how they get through it

I think about their thoughts
The knowledge they hold
And if what they're teaching us
Is what really needs to be taught
And if what they have to say
Is really what they need to say

I look at them all
And I wonder
What they could teach
What I could learn
From each and every one of them
If the time and place and opportunity
Were given to us

And it makes me sad
To think that
All of my teachers
And my professors
Are all going to die before me
And I'll never know
I'll never learn
I'll never grow
From what they know
But never told

Because they only talked about
Synonyms or the quadratic equation
Or all the periodic elements
And they never talked about
What is most important in life
So we never know the important things like
Laughing
And pain
And having your heart broken
And crying for all the right reasons
And why we are the way we are
And how to get where we're going
And having dreams
And participating in life
And telling people that you love them
And understanding death
And understanding life
And how to save lives
And to be open and vulnerable
And knowing that everything is going to be okay
Even if it's not
Because that's what truly matters on life

It makes me sad to think
That people go through life
Without ever knowing
All of the important things about life
Because no one ever told them
And they never experienced them

So what are we doing?
Why do we go to school
To learn about things that matter
But don't really matter
In the end?
Because in the end,
You don't think about
Synonyms or the quadratic equation
Or all the periodic elements
You think about your life
And the the people,
Even the teachers
Who got you through it
And made that difference

You think about those few
Oh, so few
Teachers who taught you
The important things
About life
And how that
Made all the difference
florence white or better known as mumma rose gets captured in ron’s psych ward



after losing her mate harold stone  in 2011, florence ‘mumma rose’ white started

to show the screws that she is a changed woman but she can’t resist, escaping from the secure

psychiatric unit and then started to search the web to find tasha andrews, so she can have

ella white, who is the chosen one, but this time mumma rose was determined to win, and

mumma rose decided to bring her commune to the web and she would trick everyone who

looks like they can help her into joining the computer generation, which was the name of her

new commune, and florence wanted to find tasha and ells, and she would do anything to get

help to find them.

ron was searching the web and wrote on google after having problems with the web and

‘what is wrong with the computer generation, and surprise surprise, he came across mumma rose’s

website, but it was secure, because florence didn’t want no irene roberts to stop her plan, but

ron was unsure about whether this was a lead, so he searched for any way of finding a date of when

this website was found, but he couldn’t find it, but ron forwarded the websie over to the police and

then ron was called in, with the police saying, where did you find this site and ron said, i was searching

for something i like and i then accidentally googled what is wrong with the computer generation and

this was on the top, and the police said, yeah well, this site was built in 2012 in the hope of capturing

tasha and ella once more, and it looks like she is off her medication as well.


ron left the police station and went to his usual place and there was one of mumma rose’s computer generation

buddy’s having a cup of coffee and a cake, and he said, my friend mumma rose wants me to bring ella white home to her

after that evil tasha andrews and irene roberts took her away from her, and ron said, listen, do you know where she lives

and mumma rose’s buddy said nothing, not even his name because he can’t see the evil in mumma rose but ron wanted

to trial a new medication on her because the one she was on wasn’t working and the man said, why the **** are you doctors

trying to shove good people on drugs, and she is a good person, you know who the real villain is.    it is that evil irene roberts and

tasha andrews, or she wants is to have her baby brought back to her.

ron said, she has manipulated so many people, and she is dangerous and the man said, ‘dangerous’  a wild dog can be dangerous

a tiger can be dangerous.  better still a knife reeling bandit is dangerous, but mumma rose is ever so gentle, and the computer generation

are protecting her from you quacks and cops.

ron sat there and took a photo of the guy with his phone and sent it to the police and then went to his HDU and the inmates were getting restless

and charlie chaplin said did you hear the news, they caught mumma rose, and she should be back in her psych ward soon and ron

said, when did this happen and before he can say anything else, mumma rose was walking into his HDU, and florence said, hi, my name is

florence white, and i was arrested for having a website, just imagination in this day and age, getting arrested for having a website.

ron asked mumma rose, you were a NSW lady, what brings you here, and mumma rose said, i had a sure plan to get my daughter back

from those evil so called family people irene roberts and tasha andrews, i was ready to pounce till i got a visit from the police, and ron asked her

did you have a lead, and mumma rose said yeah, there was this little 9 year old girl really got hooked on this website and i thought, ella, this is ella

i know it, she is my daughter who has been taken away by irene and tasha and i am ever so determined to reach out, and when the police came

i lost all hope of ever seeing her again, so are you happy mr ron cooper, and mumma rose added i am not taking any medication, because there is

nothing wrong with me, give tasha and irene medication and send them in here, and let me go, i have my new found friends to look after

and ron said, ‘NO’, you are staying here and while you have still got thoughts in harming that child, you will stay here as i prescribe largactil to you

with a dash of serenace and mumma rose walked away saying, i am not participating in any childish games until i get out of here, i will take your

wonder drug, to get me better so i can be with my daughter again and ron bought out the lunches and mumma rose had nothing and charlie said

eat this, it’s great and mumma rose said, if i wasn’t missing my daughter, i would punch you and patty roe went up to florence and said i am

george washington and florence said ‘SHUT UP’, and went over to the television yelling at every word said on the television, and that meant a

lot of yelling and ron tried to settle her down and brought her medication to her, and mumma rose said, my daughter is out there with evil

and ron bought out the sandwiches as well as the rest of the medications and mumma rose went up to charlie chaplin and grabbed him

and said to ron, i will **** him if you go home now, ron said, no you haven’t got any weapons so ron went home, but when ron went home,

mumma rose continued with her threat to **** someone and she killed george washington, saying go back to the USA in a coffin and the nursing

staff rang ron up and ron came straight away and went into mumma rose’s room and said, you ain’t going to see your daughter if you **** everyone

in here, ok and after yelling at florence ron went to his office and put a do not disturb sign on his door while mumma rose was pumped full of drugs/
Austin Heath Apr 2014
If I was a drinker, I’d be dry on the rocks;
if I was an addict, I’d be dead.
I’m not proud enough to call myself a writer
and I barely scrape by with the title “poet”.
It’s not all the same, except it kind of is,
and if it’s all the same to you,
I’d rather be a maniac, or pure ****, with good definitions,
than another ignorant sack of **** with lazy reasoning
and a demeanor leaning towards believing
"I’m above it" really means you are truly above it.
If I was a gambler I’d go all in on my debt,
and wind up missing fingers and half my life
to say you truly believe in the things you say.
If I was a violent man, I’d start more fistfights,
and if I was more of an *******, I’d call you stupid.
However, I’m not the boxer taking the dive,
or the druggie nodding off on the transit,
or the gambler with his mortgage on a pair of jacks,
or the ******* that oppresses someone and plays the victim.
I’m not the writer that made it somewhere big enough
to ever be a has been, or a wash up. I’m a never-was.
To say this is a sad song implies it’s not comfortable.
I’m the *** of my own visions and dreams,
and all my streets and alleys are only seedy
because I wrote them that way.
At least I’m not pretending I’m above it,
while actively participating. Although, **** it,
I guess nobody can tell from a distance.
Azimah Azmi Mar 2014
Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you feel more than you think, although you think a lot because logic is important. Maybe underneath all that hardness, you’re made of mashed up emotions. Maybe you’re scarred and bruised, but healed and fine. Maybe you’re tired, but somehow because of that you’re inspired. Maybe you’re quiet because you like watching people and it feels safer inside your head. Maybe you’d rather do things alone because you don’t like participating when you can look at everything else when you take a few steps back. Maybe you’re misunderstood as indifferent and ignorant but all you really do is try to see the beauty in everything and love everything even if it’s bad. Maybe you don’t voice it out because you don’t want to seem fake since genuine kindness is rare these days and people don’t buy it so you don’t want to be isolated. Maybe people can’t see you for who you really are because you’re never close enough, so you always end up all alone. Maybe you don’t mind not being noticed, and all you need is the warmth of the love inside of you when you learn to love a world that is dead set on hurting you.

**-AA
March 15, 2013. 0551hrs
Deep Oct 2021
This is my home now,
God knows for how many years more!
The stack of books
upright arranged
in the shape of my dreams looks
disorderly and unorganized,
Loneliness in the shape of an injured cat
Invades the room, meowing, every night,
sniffs scattered objects,
And eventually rests in my lap
effusing air of some stale memories,

As the days move on like a tired traveler,
The stains on the wall are clearing
to my eyes,
Sticky notes like land mafias
appropriates space from the wall,
Che Guvera with a clenched fist
returns a red salute,

The 'fist' forwarded memory of past,
and one by one
Dreadful images reemerged in my mind;
Mother in hospital bed, pale and weak,
gasping for breath,
I sat beside her
waiting for magic,
Several breakups
especially the last one
that hurt most
where I choose this not  her,
And last but not least
my COMRADE days
participating in protests,
bearing batons, and living
like revolutionaries
fighting the corruption in
the system,

But now I yearn to be
part of the system,
As this series of pictures end
The motivation I consumed earlier,
watching twenty minutes
long video subsides,
And all of a sudden I rummage the bed sheet
to look for a hidden pack of cigarettes
which I bought yesterday,

Choices change as we proceed on
in life,
I do regret some of my decisions
and regret them badly,
I have cried at night,
Laughed like a hyena,
I'm weak feigning to be strong,
I see many reasons to quit this task
but one that keeps me
going on is the picture of an ailing mother
dying in a government hospital.
I don't know how this poem started and I still don't know how it ended. Maybe it's just me restlessly trying to finish this poem
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
Weave we've woven a web...
What I said, what I said, what I said
we been sayin all a long

Oh the futurists mythed the inter-resting-time

This man fears population explosions, he is speaking in 1991,

I'd built my great 100 by 75 miles ten stories building resting place where ten billion story tellers could hide and watch whaat's
comin' down.
By then, decades before, in the desert twixt Vegas and L.A.
I asked this guy who actually wanted in my pants,
I sat on the window silly V double you, did he know,
I asked, no, I told him, after I had been starring at the stars for some time, this time that'ime, when I think about it,
I told that guy the whole world was waiting,
suffering,
await'n' the frontal cortex maturation of the sons 'oGod.
I said "and I'm one." Don't touch.

My private calfornia became my private arizona and neo and river chose idaho, ( no, that idaho, that was a movie-story)... not part of the rite

that was the legend of the clan, when we had electrix. That ride set an I'll-go-rythm of if/then/else switches to HIGH honor if-ic.
If.
If you can keep your head... the rest, true rest, is history.

we know a voice who swore he was there when "Been there, done that"
became an
eternal cliche of the gods.

We are participating in the future. We are thinking.

---
that hapt the same night as the discovery of the perfect-ish
four sided pyramid of charcoal brickets burning one
at at at a time
touch another to the glowing pile on the sand...
(audio)
=====
why are ficts so far from the facts in the matters that matter

re-lig-em leg-it-am-it-all, damitalkenslowdown

so re-lig me to my ide-idea, beware

We seen this coming do you? This is thirty years ago we know, this we know this we

we are in sanity, as insanity is the only way to packitin
sane sorts of things that all must touch in order
to re
main sane. You know, you know. That makes lying im-possible or null-possil-be
per se.
Word.Righton. Trooph truckah! ToA allaway Found

a calico cat of the old school sawdust variety.
if you,
if you see her, please de-if her re-onance, it's chipped.
You can keep her, if I can say such things here and not be thought an ownery old cuss,
clammering through empty lobster tails to see what the attraction may have been,

Back. Then we are not
off track or trail, etched acid canyon of silicon paved with godelsufferingold, by golly, I'd be live if I could see my way clear to walk such streets at
the speed of light
no, gravity and no, too slow,
thought.
ought... that's a thought
not... that's a thought
ought... that's a differ'nt thought, takes time...
that's a thought you could spend thinking it. You get nowhere.
now and then we find clusters of ideas in time, as if they buble from some spring in the headwaters of the mind we matter in

Der Lesenmann, bitte, kanst do lesen? O h, dear reader, take my hand, my phantom hand, the one I never lost, tell me

did you enjoy our journey, so far...

Weave a ways, weave a ways to go. If this and that cross
again
we may hear what that preach meant to say, thaat day
o'visitation, way back when.

olden time. grand mals time to meditate sign-ate de-sign-ate,

Dada do we know when we know, when we are two and the past is, too.
Papa do you know the big bang is the answer everyone found, in the olden days when you were ten?
Oh I read about that backthen, I was twelve. Weekly Reader kept my gang informed, or Me, and I told all my friends, my listeners who did not read but needed to pass the current events test.
Now, we all a passin' those ****** one time at atime

Upon my word, begin...
This sprang from a 1991 discussion about the world wide web, in which Terrence McKenna  Ruper Sheldrake began to imagine the world we live in post Y2K and  9-11 and 420 and Prop 64, where are you
Arcassin B Dec 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

Out in a whisp,  I call your name,
Sitting under it would make a change,
For the both of us,
Its you or none of us,
For the strong affection we have under it,
When I love it's like....

looking up to a sky once blue,
begging for the world to turn back,
treating the heavens to a gift of life,

crying a name when it's only just a face,
ruining the things that you love,
staying and participating in the fight,

no need to put to rest or be afraid,
happiness and joyfulness can be restored,
we cant afford to lose you in other words die.

This mistletoe predicts our future.
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2015/12/mistletoe.html
david badgerow Dec 2014
violins screech in a pivotal moment
she flashes a reluctant smile at me
teeth halting to pinch her lower lip
across the farmer's market
she is a life-sized toy of wild beauty
my heart sore in my ribs
and i feel an electric current coil between us
the shape of two lovers curled together asleep

but the acid takes on a life of its own
playing a strange game of backward symmetry
every departure is a return to the eternal center
the great yellow paper mother
lying on her own suede tongue
folded into a fleeing gazelle japanese style

potent nostalgia while peeling dogwood
and the pungent smell of leaves as
our midday shadows are thrown uphill
like two wiggly heat waves
incredible light leaping out of our fingers and toes
we are enormous gods
our flesh doesn't sweat
as we dance on the floor of the whole blue sky
tap-dancing on the manly gate of atlantis
drunk with a new horizon

she with the soul of a barn owl
participating in the battleground sunset
drapes herself around my neck
giggling with easter egg pupils
the words **** me hard
in open and lonely places
projected on her face and in
the fractal sky behind it
hands grabbing fast for flesh
my mouth starving for breast-meat
while my heart slams high in my throat
matterhorn **** waiting at the edge
of light hidden under scarlet silk loincloth

at last we sprawled naked tangled together
laughing about an imagined destiny
i felt power flood like a river between her thighs
and we fell into a receptive darkness
of limbs and hair
an island of velvet to
dream on
As Mr Joe Cole didn't have the decency, to read any of the poems that I tendered for his challenges... I shall not be participating in them again.
He has now been blocked and that's how he'll be staying.
Christine Jun 2010
Silence is always the safest answer.
My dad used to get mad at me
For not participating in conversations.
I was just smart enough to know
That most of the time the response in my mind
Should not be voiced
In fear of judgement
Or anger
Or just plain discomfort.
It is a trait I have brought with me from childhood.

Often not responding is the best response of all.
Two Bulgarian poets entered “The Second Genesis” – Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry – India’2014
Poems of the Bulgarian poets Bozhidar Pangelov and Mira Dushkova are included in the Indian project “The Second Genesis: An Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry”. Bozhidar Pangelov’s poems are: “Time is an Idea” and “…I hear” translated by Vessislava Savova; as for Mira Dushkova’s poems – “Beyond”, “Sozopolis” and “The Girl”, they were translated by Petar Kadiyski.


For the authors:
Bozhidar Pangelov was born in the soft month of October in the city of the chestnut trees, Sofia, Bulgaria, where he lives and works. He likes joking that the only authorship which he acknowledges are his three children and the job-hobby in the sphere of the business services. His first book Four Cycles (2005) written entirely with an unknown author but in a complete synchronous on motifs of the Hellenic legends and mythos. The coauthor (Vanja Konstantinova) is an editor of his next book Delta (2005) and she is the woman whom “The Girl Who…” (2008) is dedicated to. His last (so far) book is “The Man Who…” (2009). In June 2013 a bi lingual poetry book A Feather of Fujiama is being published in Amazon.com as a Kindle edition. Some of his poems are translated in Italian, German, Polish, Russian, Chinese and English languages and are published on poetry sites as well as in anthologies and some periodicals all over the world. Bozhidar Pangelov is on of the German project Europe takes Europa ein Gedicht. “Castrop Rauxel ein Gedicht RUHR 2010” and the project “SPRING POETRY RAIN 2012”, Cyprus.
Mira Dushkova (1974) was born in in Veliko Tarnovo, the medieval capital of Bulgaria. She earned a MA degree from the University of Veliko Tarnovo, and later on a PhD in Modern Bulgarian Literature, from Ruse University Angel Kanchev, in 2010, where she is currently teaching literature courses.
Her writing includes poetry, essays, literary criticism and short stories. She has published several poetry books in Bulgarian: “I Try Histories As Clothes“ (1998), „Exercise On The Scarecrow” (2000), „Scents and Sights“ (2004), literary monograph “Semper Idem : Konstantin Konstantinov. Poetics of the late stories“ (2012, 2013) and the story collection „Invisible Things“ (2014).
Her poems have been published in literary editions in Bulgaria, USA, Sweden, Hungary, Croatia, Romania, Turkey and India. Some of her poems and essays have been first prize winners of different Bulgarian contests for literature.
She has attended poetry festivals in Bulgaria, Croatia (Zagreb) and Turkey (Istanbul and Ordu).
She lives in Ruse – Bulgaria.

For the Antology “The Second Genesis”:
In the anthology titled „The Second Genesis“ are published the poems of 150 poets from 57 countries. All poems are in English. The Antology consists of 546 pages. “The Second Genesis” includes authors’ and editors’ biographies and three indexes: of the authors; of the poem titles and an index based on the first verses. It is issued by “A.R.A.W.LII” (Academy of ‘raitɘ(s) And Word Literati) – an academy, which encourages literature and creative writing and realizes cultural connections between India and the other countries. Four times a year ARAWLII publishes in India the international magazine for poetry and creative writing „Prosopisia“. Its Chief Editor and President of A.R.A.W.LII is Prof. Anuraag Sharma. He is also author of Antology’s Introduction.
Participating Countries:
Albania, Argentina, Armenia, Australia, Belgium, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Brazil, Bulgaria, Albania, Great Britain, Germany, Greece, Denmark, Egypt, Estonia, India, Iran, Iraq, Ireland, Israel, Spain, Italy, Jordan, Canada, Cyprus, China, Kosovo, Cuba, Macao, Macedonia, Niger, Norway, Pakistan, Palestine, Poland, Puerto Rico, Romania, Russia, Saudi Arabia, USA, Singapore, Syria, Serbia, Taiwan, Tunis, Turkey, Fiji, Philippines, Finland, France, Holland, Croatia, Montenegro, Czech Republic, Chile, Sweden, Switzerland, Scotland, South Africa, Japan
For the editors:
Anuraag Sharma – editor and president of A.R.A.W.LII
Poet, critic, author of short stories, translator and playwrighter, Anuraag has to his credit the following publications: “Kiske Liye?”, “Punarbhava”, “Audhava”, Dimensions of the Angel: A Study of the poetry of Les Murray’s Poetry “Iswaswillbe” – a collection of short stories, “Setu” (“The Bridges”). He has also co-editor the volume of conference papers: ”Caring Cultures: Sharing Imaginations. Some of his recent publications include: “A Trilogy of plays”, “Mehraab” (“The Arch”) – translations of selected poems of four Canberra Poets, “Papa and Other Poems”, “Sau Baras Ka Sitara Eik” – translation of Andrew Parkin’s “A Star of Hundred Years”, “As if a wooden house I am”- translations of Surendra Chaturverdi, “Satish Verma: The Poet” and “Tere Jaane ke Baad Tere Aane as Pehle”. He is also editor-in-chief of two international journals – “Lemuria” and “Prosopisia”. Currently he is working as a Professor in English at Govt. College “Kekri” Ajmer, India.

Moizur Rehman Khan – co-redactor, project manager, secretary of A.R.A.W.LII
He studied Urdo and Persian Literature in college and later on competed his master degree in English literature from “Dayanand” College, Ajmer, India. He completed his research dissertation under the supervision of Anuraag Sharma on “Major themes in the poetry of Chris Wallas-Crabbe”. He is a creative writer. His poems and articles have been published in various magazines and journals. Currently he is teaching English at DMS, RIE, Ajmer, India.
References for the Antology:
“No middle no end, the poems in The Second Genesis have been speaking to you long before the beginning and will continue without you…don’t worry, its binding has long since unglued, its pages, worn and disheveled, will always be speaking to you, they’ve been compiled this way, to be read out of order, backwards, shelved or scattered in an attic between the coffee and greasy finger stains…The Second Genesis is the history of the Book where you become its words, ink and pulp.”
Craig Czury

“The Second Genesis is at the crossroads of a new poetic becoming. a poetry claiming its second beginning not only for art but the heart pulsating and feeding the entire body. This anthology is a successful fusion of unique, inimitable and polyphonic poetry, a well-organized improvisation with a solid and flexible structure.”

Dalia Staponkute

“The Second Genesis, a compendium of world poetry which is also a poetry of the world, suggests so much a new beginning as it does a recognition of the ongoing creation that continues to animate our collective existence. Our precarious era requires a global affirmation that we are all in this together. Poetry has always said as much, and here it says it again, in the idioms of our time.”
Paul Kane
**
“Visionary and international, The Second Genesis, introduced and edited by Anuraag Sharma, sparkles with poetry of insight, intelligence and feeling and is an indispensable reminder of our human aspirations and experience in the early 21st century. Poets from nearly sixty countries rub shoulders in this ambitious and wide-ranging collection, and their poems resonate and mingle in a multi-layered voice. It is the voice of our humanity.
In his Introduction, Dr. Sharma points to the invaluable importance of poetry in what he calls our destructive Lear era:
Beyond the Lear Century, across the 21st Century lies the island of Prospero and Ariel and Miranda and Ferdinand – the region of faith, hope and innocence, the land of virtue, and all forgiveness sans grievances, sans regrets, sans curses. The doleful shades lead to pastures new.
We must weigh our hopes. The Second Genesis is at hand….”
Diana Sampey
I’ve been hearin a lot of bad mouthin about socialism ever since the president tried to provide affordable healthcare to the working poor… I also hear some carping when someone suggested that the minimum wage paid to workers should allow them to buy the necessities of life… I don't hear too much bad things about medicare and social security…. I guess thats not really socialism…. I don't hear too much about the big bailouts of the bankers with government money after they put us in a recession… privatized gain and socialized risk must also be a strain of a special kind of entitlement...

We’ll I think this whole socialism business needs some clarity about what its all about…. so I made a list of socialist heroes so my fellow American’s can get a better feel for what going on with this red menace...

Heres a list of socialist heroes….

Jesus Christ of Nazareth...I just can't get past the Beatitudes thing. Since all the po folks of the earth get to inherit all the good stuff when they pass on.... I figure heaven gotta be some kinda socialist paradise....Some don’t buy the idea that Jesus is building a Mar-A-Largo estate for Donald Trump... while having the rest of us live in our cramped apartments…. Jesus did say he’s building many rooms but the po folks get first dibs on everything… For all the doubting Thomas’s and Thomasina’s get Sean Hannity’s fastidious fact checkers to read the good news in the Gospel of Matthew.

Jack London... To think he’s been spreading the Red Menace in the mind of America’s innocent children for near a century now…. When Michelle Bachmann finds out about this she'll introduce a bill to change the title of The Call of the Wild to the Call of the Commies... I don't think it will affect Sarahcuda because she don’t read at a sixth grade level yet. Alaska is safe for now....And all comrade citizens are doing just fine thank you.... spending their annual royalty checks they get from the state for all the North ***** oil drilling...  Hell during Sarah's half term governorship... she did what every self respecting socialist despot would do... she paid out a special $1,200.00 Permanent Fund royalty dividend to all comrade "North to the Future" citizens.....

Carl Sandburg... The People Yes? Sang the songs of the People Yes! Celebrated a broad shouldered, hog butchering America who wrote a biography with love and affection for our country’s greatest Republican President....  Whats that about?...And his treatment of Billy Sunday...a back in the day,.. aw shucks,... from the backwoods holler... Kenneth Copeland like... Believer's Voice of Victory preacher of his day... who hurled fire and brimstone at cowering congregants so when he passed the plate they filled it up with hoards of heavenly manna to fatten his bank account overstuffed with moth eaten earthly treasure… I'm sure even Pat Robertson believes Sandburg’s soul lies beyond the sweet redemption of Jesus...

George Orwell… Unlike **** Cheney... who said he had better things to do when his country called on him to serve during the Vietnam War... Orwell’s fervor for democracy was so great he left his native land to lay his life on the line to fight against the fascist menace in Spain... When he got into a battle he came across an enemy combatant taking a ****. He later said, “I let him go. How do you shoot a guy with his pants down?”... A deep respect for the humanity of others is clear evidence of a socialist's fatal flaw and why the righteous laissez faire American’s hate it so....Unfortunately Orwell and his comrades lost this one to Franco and his sugar daddies Il Duce and Mein Fuhrer… but we’ll keep up the good fight…..

Dorothy Day… This saint of the proletariat kept the soup kettle brewin to feed the working poor during the Great Depression... She spent her own money to build shelters to house catholic workers and didn't make a **** dime off the vulnerability of their screaming want... A squandered opportunity maybe…. definitely a coocoo loon according to the weltentstehung of Ayn Rand… so popular around these parts these days...but Dorothy laid up some serious dosh in heaven for her labors here on earth…. for where your treasure is…. there you will find your heart also… Anyone who knew her said Dorothy's heart was always in the right place….

Albert Einstein…. this guy was no dope….he knew enough to make make moral distinctions of exploitation and greed… and the self condemnation of conspicuous consumption...the destructive capacity of unfettered power….and worked hard to figure out equations to end the wastefulness of war... he did teach at Princeton though… more proof of the red infestation of the universities…. greed is good…. knowledge is bad….

Eugene V. Debs…. went to prison for his beliefs… got a million votes from jail… thats how devious these reds are.... even from prison they run for president and fool the working people into participating in the democratic process…. he believed everyone should vote… and would probably be imprisoned today for violating all the laws being passed that take voting rights away… gotta watch the reds…. next thing you know they'll close the electoral college and force politicians to pay a 100% poll tax on all the money they take from their corporate sponsors….

WEB DuBois… the souls of an oppressed people is the soul of a nation...ain’t it written that a nation is judged on how it treats its most vulnerable?.... Mr. DuBois fought to bring justice to all those lacking the means and rights in a nation teeming with diverse groups with needs and wants… it ain’t just about afro american jazz… its about the blues sung by all people on the outside looking in… he believed it unjust that only a small portion of American’s held the keys to the doors of prosperity… everyone should have a key to unlock the doors of opportunity… everyone…. that includes workers, immigrants, women, gay folks, religious minorities, disabled and the poor and lots other people I haven’t thought of yet…. but what about the real Americans...whose gonna stand up for them??????????

Woody Guthrie…. this country belongs to us… next time a frackin jacker comes to tear up your land and dump poison in your well… next time a strung out strip miner wants to plow away the top of your mountain and dump arsenic in your river…. next time a GMO attorney says the crops you planted don’t belong to you because they are contractually patented to him…. next time a big oil company says that they got a right to pollute the oceans and **** the fish so they can pump out a passel of fossil fuel… next time a bankster comes knocking at the door to take your house away… next time a tea slappin Teabagger starts screaming that the Koch Brothers should be allowed to own the national parks so they can cut the trees down for firewood…. tell em...you heard it on good authority…. that this land is your land…. not theirs….. if thats socialism…. I’m liken it….

American Socialists

Woody Guthrie: This Land is Your Land

Oakland
10/21/13
jbm
Chapter **
Decalogue

In the absence of Vernarth's transitory, Sardinia was still burning with lilting water. Already rejoining the plasma from which he saw him depart, he continued in the liturgy with monophonic ideologies, characteristic of trance as an element of his regressive parapsychological transfiguration. Already divided into various personalities and entities, he could have almost been instructed to leave for Piacenza and join Raeder and Petrobus to set sail for the Dodecanese to expand his duties with Saint John the Evangelist. He meets with Etréstles and the participating comrades that when he arrived at the refuge in the morning, everyone was asleep, except Etréstles who was starching some sheets of bread dough for breakfast. Meanwhile, he had sacred fire heating with sacred water for everyone. Vernarth approaches and Khaire tells him, he answers, a joy to see you.

Vernarth says: Beloved Brother Etrétles, I have already taken the notations to begin the decalogue. Today in the afternoon we will board the Sailboat and leave for Piacenza. We are in the final offering. In the Izanna tower, I called upon the powers of the Universe to present them, and I was commissioned to make notations of the Decalogue of the souls that Live in all the ages of time and its vicissitudes.

Everyone starts to wake up, look at him and say hello. They sit in a circle to enjoy breakfast. Meanwhile, outside the shelter, the horns felt moving to the rhythm of the minutes. In such a way, that the last sound of the Doric scale that the storm segregates, will provide the beginnings of each one of boarding the float that will take them to the pier of Cala Cogone. Everyone says goodbye and hugs each other, Vernarth and his brother says Khaire.

Decalogue I                  
Hanael
                                      ­      
Generosity transformed into a crowd. Many stones co-exist emanating the sweet energy of Hanael, and among these is the Onix, known as the stone of truth. Whose objectivism was dreamed of the Value of generosity in its maximum expression in the courage centered on the very vibration flower of the Gerbera, along with its sober goats of the reign of the heights? Hyperkinetic foot and ascension to spiritual psychic growth, which is the real emblem and symbolism of all the virtues of all the planes, the history not traced, or the memory that is mentioned.

Two unicorns alone will be reached by the ****** who will numb them with the perfume of her purity and her chastity, the reason why she will be related to the ****** Mary and the incarnation of her son Jesus by hugging them with her cloak. The Unicorn's single horn is an emblem of the spiritual arrow, divine revelation, the entrance of the supernatural into man, the sword of God, the opening of the third eye, whose vision is projected towards the ends of the angelic world. Hail Regina Sine Labe Originali Spectam.

Decalogue II
Saint Gabriel

Vernarth you tied to a tree with canvases draws himself to the Angel in his name meaning "God is my strength". According to the Abrahamic religions and Judaism. As a result, she became known as "the messenger". Angel Gabriel continues to have a role in the world, helping both parents and human messengers. Blowing the trumpet to announce the return of the lord to Earth.

In his mediumship, the Archangel Gabriel inspires artists, singers, poets, writers, and dancers, helps them communicate on a spiritual level to recover inspiration, innocence, purity, and joy of living. From which this egregious Vernarth Travel Wheel is not exempt until it is consecrated in Patmos as a sacred and lay reference of a spiritual being in gestation. From here he will cultivate the dignity and the Abrahamic mothers so that they can accept their body, awakening in the souls the scriptural power and communicating vigorous forces, which facilitate overcoming fear and lack of decision in life. Sponsoring God's messages to those who worship him.

Vernarth violates the Xiphos sword's decree to shed blood, but rather to purify the gesture of shedding Faith that cuts hopelessness. United in the Templars gripped by their fellow men of the spiritual warfare that never loses, that is always ready to the limit.


Decalogue III
Two premises

From the first two decalogues, the third is born. Both by the glow of the first reactivates the other, which is a rectilinear light that surprises the dark light that tries to invade its luminosity. At very meager kilowatts, the years that separate the times of adding more vestiges of transcending on moral exercise unfold from intertwining; in such a way that in periods of frank over-excited navigation, the energy of the spirit is advanced, only measurable by the actions and intercommunications of the Angels and Archangels.
"Decalogues / ten analyzes" Assimilations of divine inspiration, which will contain ten components beyond an enumeration of premises that expose the visions when justifying a test. This decalogue includes maxims such as "The Angel is the fundamental value of Mystical Perseverance."


Decalogue IV
Where is the North

The North: Biblical scholars have suggested that the north symbolizes the permanent or the eternal, perhaps because the pole stars could be seen throughout the year. It is the place of God's heavenly habitation (Isa. 14:13) and from where his glory descends (Job 37:22) to bless or judge (Eze. 1: 4). He is the true King of the North. But the north, represented by the left hand, is also a symbol of disaster. The enemy of God's people came from the north (Jer. 1:14, 15; Eze. 38: 6), bringing destruction. In a sense, the enemy was the false king of the north who tried to usurp the role of God and who is ultimately destroyed by the Lord (Sof. 2:12; Dan. 11: 21-45). To see resting in Faith, the north does not distract your gaze, it blesses resting the whole concept that shakes the predisposition to arise to all merit given by physical unity, which I inhabit where I will rest, and the glory has to exalt me. Whoever comes from the north bringing destruction, will crash upon him, bringing reparation for the faith that rebuilds itself. The north is an anti-magnet, preventing what it cannot distort from itself in the Christian saying.


Decalogue V
The desert

Vernarth has to consume the desert like a placid arid and inhospitable place when swallowing it. There is nothing in his hands, not even the most elementary thing found. Where you suffer all kinds of discomforts: thirst and heat, inclement weather, sudden changes in temperature, sand discomfort, deprivation, and material deprivation; not only of the futile things but also of the most necessary. It must be supplied in large baskets to serve those who cultivate and protect it. The desert is a meek sheep in periods of drought when it never leaves you.

The physical reality of the desert can be like a symbol of the imminent spiritual life: it is the place of the detachment of everything superfluous; an invitation to austerity and a return to the essential. It is there where man experiences his fragility and his own limitations; the place of trial and purification. But also the most appropriate setting for a renewed and mature search for our personal encounter with God in prayer, in the silence of the soul, and in the simplicity of the essential. It is here that every symbol, more than all its significance, is transformed into a test of loneliness beyond all abundance of Faith, without even having to support it.


Decalogue VI
Vampirism

In the behavior of the person who acts like a vampire, that society prevails that the behavior is dissociated to whoever does it and not. Many vampire souls have made a pilgrimage for good. No one has been able to exclude them from the darkness and stop rising from the dead to roam the night in a bulky black cape and use long, sharp canine teeth to bite the victims' necks and **** their blood. But modern vampires tend to encounter problems of strict uniqueness such as not being happy, believing even more than by dying to them they are more than a fatal vampire. "We are all Vampires in eternity who deal with darkness and light, fear and courage."
Vampire in Sardinia is drinking the same blood and sprinkling it on the earth that nothing conceals or prescribes sin. Then a child appears, picks up the flower that germinates right there, and the cycle begins again.

“When I train myself in writing saying who I am, I only receive from the purulence of the multitudes, in centuries by centuries, not finding a basis to answer me. They say they do not know what to answer because there is no content that compares to those who have no Age, Life, or compassion. That I only have to communicate with the Strigoi messenger articulated with the souls of the dead who come out of their graves at night to terrorize the neighborhood. That it is the same as I condemned to sail and swarm the World of the Nosferatu aristocracy, a survivor of all human vanity, in all the empires of the World believing to live thousands of years without knowing who helped me, because few give me the option of giving what good of me ”


Decalogue VII
Holy incense

I breathe humid air from the superior deities; they opt for my forehead, as practices that replace those that are detonating to expel theirs. Rain of aromas alter or renew low-voltage emotions for high gods, like the Egyptians who used the most precious varieties of incense. These incense craftsmen, in the times of the Pharaohs, knew all the secrets for making high-quality incense. It has been verified that in some of the precious vessels found in the funeral chambers of Tutankhamun, they kept hundreds of kinds of incense that have still retained their magnificent aroma through the centuries. On Sheesham's bunk beds of fire. Wood and Incense with ultra sensory olfactory powers, to design elemental and supernatural hearts, to house and be adaptable to hyper-connectivity. In the Hindu religion, akasha is the foundation and essence of all things in the material world; the first palpable and concrete material element created by the god Brahmá (air, fire, water, earth are the others). "Here he sleeps without waking up when the morning doesn't wake up, and sleeps when the night doesn't get dark"


Decalogue VIII
Mythology

As mythology, it is called the set of myths typical of a people or culture. Myths, for their part, are narrations starring gods, heroes, or fantastic beings, who explain or give meaning to certain events or phenomena. The word, as such, and this in turn from the Greek μυθολογία (mythology) . Mythology, in this sense, is made up of the set of stories and beliefs, relatively cohesive, with which a people has traditionally explained itself. its origin and the reason for being of everything around it. Hence, we can affirm that mythology shapes the worldview or belief system of a culture. Vernarth from Sardinia where he never thought he was undoubtedly opens up belonging to this place more than the hundred millionth essence of his Being. It unites all the elements that melt together the liquid, aqueous, physical, gaseous, and aqueous., To form the mythology of a true verb of a parapsychological regression, like a great condiment that every mortal lacks as opposed to an immortal.
Alikantus paradigm of Alikanto on his astral journey just three days after climbing in Gaugamela...! The corners of anxiety buzz after lightening their igneous hooves by the slippery stones of the footsteps that seemed to be the same projections of their tasks that marked the Tracian soil before arriving at the request of their harangue. He resorts to Medea, before arriving in Thrace after wandering around different places in search of protection and advice to protect his master Vernarth. While He was submitting to his last opioid libations of vivid liliaceous from angiosperms encapsulated by his right pectoral. That was Alikanto's missive. Ask Medea for a potion so that she can supply her master to deflate his breastplate, and thus be able to use his Panoply breastplate in combat since there were three days left for the duel. Medea arrived in the city of Athens on a stormy day with great dark Dantesque gray on the palm of the cliff, previously escaping near the Abdera cliff, whose east was evacuating black poetry,.


Decalogue XIX
Falangist

As a tactical organization for war created in Ancient Greece and later imitated by various Mediterranean civilizations. ... The term is of Greek origin, φάλαγξ (phálanx), which was used for the defensive formation used by the Hoplites, who constituted the classical phalanx.
Almost at dusk over Zeus's beards, the Vernarth Phalanges begin to arrive. The Macedonian Phalanx or Macedonian Phalanx was an infantry formation created and used by Philip II, and later by his son Alexander the Great in the conquest of the Persian Empire. The Macedonian phalanx arose, in fact, as a response to the tactical modifications that the Theban strategists, Epaminondas and Pelópidas of ground forces, developed in the early 4th century BC. C. to oppose the superiority, although already decadent, that the Spartan hoplite formation had exerted in the land combats between the Greek cops until that date.
Nothing depresses me more than not delegating others as if they were my Falangists, making them participate in defending themselves against all disadvantages and worse punishment with the Panoply armor, a superb protector of those who has no defender. "God is my Breastplate, his Gospel protects me by never being damaged"


Decalogue X
Lepanto

Where I have to shelter, says Vernarth, hostility haunts me. Beautiful landscape that is swayed between the rushes of good that tries to be less bad. Policy judgments, how close to marketing peace, and so far from founding true poetry. Still, Vernarth crossed the waters and their customs. From Lepanto, Greece. He appeared exhausted with his eyes reddened by the gassed atmosphere that greeted them in Battle. Of whose intraterrestrial castes it was the one that was in his iron spirit and reappeared in his cape as a gesture of his personality. He arrived cracking the ****** floors of Tel Gomel when he arrived ... he was assaulted by a soldier who asked for mercy to extend his bad fortune. Lepanto is a pre-military senatorial seat, and a great preparatory to the charms of the drama of my duties that will be in Patmos, never-ending dramas.

Falangist: With his helmet in his hands and the Dorus on his cloak on the ground tells him; every single thing I tried the double edge of my sword stained him. The top sheet notified me that my family in Kalidona was in a state of irregularity since my two older children were called to serve in the militias. And the second edge of my lower Dorus I bow before the meanest preciousness of that of observing with a good spirit to cooperate, now with the callousness of my soul that overcomes it exploiting and dragging my wife as easy spoil. I know that my descendants were buried under the effect of the cataclysm of Pompeii in the future. All will emigrate and then flee when they are devastated and the unwelcome comrades return to reintegrate into the Santa María festival. The Patron Saint who consoled me, but prepared me for the resistance of such bad fortune, that one day she would let herself fall with my crops in the culture of peasant angels in fruits and devotions. I sobbed and sobbed rubbing my animals through my empty eyes day and night. They did it next to me, with the singularity of not affecting me; they went to the nearest stream to sob for me so that I would not be affected by the fatal annihilation.

Epilogue
Patmos and Saint Gabriel

Once installed with the vision of visionary brotherhood that characterizes its filial union with Reader and Petrobus. It will begin in its mediumship with the Archangel Gabriel who inspires artists, singers, poets, writers, and dancers, helps them communicate on a spiritual level to recover inspiration, innocence, purity, and joy of living. As an input of character to validation the function of the Troubadour, Juggler, or Visionary. If it were not for the written and not musical notes, nothing would be more than a vision of being closer to almost hyper-reality, established by the prophecies as historical and religious support. With this last decalogue, Vernarth establishes that one in the work of oneself remains the summary of the prototype of the work. And from the work, the summary that allows the common man to be erected, who in his free will, does not deny, but rather power his unshakable satiety of science in his prostrated soul, under the key of dogma and questioning?
Hildegard Von Bingen has sparked the interest of many scholars, mainly because it seems to contain a major contradiction with respect to the rest of his statements about his visionary experience. In that absence of ecstasy that characterizes the visionary experience of Hildegard von Bingen, It also figures the fundamental difference that separates it from its contemporary Elisabeth von Schönau, and some scholars based this fact to deny it a mystical character and grant it the attribute of prophetic. The attention of this specific passage obeys its comparison with Saint John the Evangelist. The understanding of itself seeks a model, a referent, whose wide field of meaning has to be reconstructed in order to restore the full meaning of this statement. The analysis will stop at the following aspects:

1. In the gesture through which Saint John is shown, and by which Hildegard associates herself with the evangelist and, as we will see, according to the identifications of the time, with the beloved disciple of Christ and with John of Patmos, the author. of the apocalypse.

2. Hildegard's identification with Juan de Patmos will lead us to a comparison of both visionaries focused on the modes of their representation.

3. Finally, the content of the images will be reflected on from an example, hoping that all of this will be concluded with a sharper profile of Hildegard von Bingen's visionary experience.
Vernarth says: “I wander from the stony ruins in Sardinia, to go in search of those who gave rise to themselves. When I thought about believing to create them, they presented themselves to me as a whole that prophesies Creation. ”
DECALOGUE  VERNARTH
Establish a research and development facility tasked with recycling 100,000 commonly used household goods or packaged products back into the original base material needed to remake it into new product packaging. Pass legislation requiring all companies selling products with packaging to buy their source materials from a registered public-private venture allowing any firm willing to participate to do so. Companies must then manufacture packaging locally using source materials supplied by one of the public-private companies. Companies will also be required to hire locally using a diversity and economic income model incorporating or locating the participating companies in the poorest rural counties in the state.










Society grows great when Old Men plant trees.  -Socrates
Korey Miller Dec 2012
i. descend

i've lost weight since we last met
we fit differently from before-
bird-thin, the both of us-
but this hollow in your feathered chest is
still where i feel most at home-
your jade eyes
a nest, to cultivate my happiness

i've been betrothed to the birds
you stayed back, earthbound
i fell, a cataract, from the red cliffs
you watched me sink, earthbound
i was ripped to shreds in the tundra
freezing and thirsty
and you listened instead to the flowers,
drowning me out as i whispered for help

they told you sunlight stories
when i was trapped in dusk
i was an inch from the edge of night
and you fled
so as to not be consumed.

ii. unpend

i know what i told myself-
i said i shed my mourning veil-
but i still weep for the morning lark,
your lightening song
haunting my brittle nightingale

i write you letters every night
with a fountain pen slathered in red ink
saying what i never could,
spilling my regret on the page

(wake up with ****** hands)

i should have known
you were no one to trust
you're just a fledgling

we're all so naïve.

iii. the end

i take flight, for brave is the man
who would leap from the bluff
to prove his worth;
for i can take action now-
i can say this now,
where before i sat on the sidelines

i will not wilt
in your arms
just for a moment
i will hold you tight
my prisoner

thank you for keeping me alive
i don't need that anymore
thank you for staying by my side
when i had eyes set to ****

thank you for helping me to ascertain
that i’m no phoenix
thank you for participating in
my stupid guessing games

you were the match
to ignite my nicotine habits
but now i'm the one who's
decided to spark and fade

green-eyes,
i've made a decision
and this time i'll stick with it-
featherlight now,
i will make my escape
Shay Nov 2015
I wake in the morning and dread the day ahead,
it would be much easier if I could go back to sleep instead.
It is better than the torture of my disorder;
the voices in my head don't ask me things nicely - they're always an order.

My fear of vomiting is detrimental,
so the acts that I carry out are fundamental.
I do not leave the house; germs could get on my hands,
I always find an excuse for not participating in my friend's plans.
My hands are red raw and sore
from the excessive scrubbing; it's become a chore.
I have to put sanitiser around my mouth too,
otherwise my mind goes crazy - unfortunately that's true.

When exposed to a vomiting bug,
I completely stop eating and take an anti-bacterial drug.
I count down forty eight hours
before I can eat again; this is the extent of the phobia's powers.

When somebody mentions they feel unwell,
I avoid them like the plague and it feels like I'm in hell.

I think of the future and of the children I desire,
but the idea of germs and sickness around them is a taunt so dire.

I worry about vomiting every single day;
causing panic attacks and mental breakdowns - I want to run away.

People laugh at such a "silly" terror,
but for me it's a life-changing and deleterious horror.
Akash mazumdar Aug 2016
Love and friendship got one thing in common base named as trust,
And as far as this bond continues relation goes with no argues and smooth without any grudge, Today's relation got more ego than love ❤,
It starts with likings and ends up with lust,
Now its a international trend to have a special contact in phonebook ,
Named like love, life line etc or just of jealous the neighbourhood,
Now a days relations are mostly based on nonsense fictions,
At last ending of it one or both get stuck in its contradictions,
It's like participating in a game,
It's easy to get one person whom you can easily blame,
After breakup; fights or any misfortune happens either all the negatives because of that person or haven't,
I don't know what's going on to today's generation, People just attach temporarily and if it doesn't seems to profitable they walk away like nothing happened.
aviisevil Dec 2017
I'm aware of what isn't, I'm still a peasant, memory's not pleasant,
my brain's not present, I'm in the presence of another's essence,
I'm here with a vengeance, on my mother's breath, I pray for my father's death,

I'm not here for lessons, I'm not here to listen, I'm here with a vision, no goal but on a mission,
lost my soul and now I don't have the heart take make a decision,
the thing about love is that it cuts with precision, if you hate enough you can join the legion,

take a revision, come now, take a test, all the maths in your head, add all the mad in your head, all the sad in your mind filled with education,
the time holds still, you'd rather be blind, not par taking in the anticipation, participating, precipitating without a reason,

you change colours every season, collecting the wreck, wrecking the tech, rolling the tapes until the ends connect, aware what is, but still missing what isn't,

if somebody tried to break your neck, would you help if it was in a way that is considered to be decent ?,
if it was pleasant, would you be the peasant that cries in the absence of his kings presence, isn't that religion ?,


I see, I feel, as if I'm not seeing the real picture, all these scriptures and spiritual teachers whisper, the same, it's now in fashion, to have a passion, to be insane.

if I'm ever back in the region, I'll send a message through the pigeons, a safe passage for the superstition, last page reserved for the delusions, ask hate, if it means the same if you create illusions,

you're prolly havin' a fun time if you're not part of the solution, **** this world, it's just seven continents and one ocean, full of walls, doors that never open,

wage a war but don't show any emotions,
don't heal if it's broken, it's just awoken,
I'm in a commotion, with all these monuments inside of me full of torment, I'm done with answers I don't ever want to question, I'm done with erosion, my veins are full of poison,

I'm aware of what isn't, I'm still a peasant, memory's not pleasant, my brain's not present, I'm in the presence of another's essence, I'm here with a vengeance, on my mother's breath, I pray for my father's death,

I'm not here for lessons, I'm not here to listen, no, I'm not really here to be fed and see. I'm here for the kingdom, when I'm dreaming in my bed, I'm in a prison, talking free, I'm prolly what Polybius was envisioned to be, a random mathematical equation,

something for everyone to see, something for everyone to feel,
anything for anybody who's somebody, but not everybody is free enough to see what i see, in my prison, where i got past the last season, after killing me, after filling me with theories those are prolly my only, I'm so lonely, even in my thoughts, caught in my rot, with nobody to free, you see I killed myself a long time ago, I don't know who I am anymore, before I was sure and now not anymore, I have less and I want more, cashless but I want the store, faithless but I'm *******, so hard to explore, and sooner than later after I explode, I'll still be a stranger prolly a Polybius export, Polybius in my blood, strange things and places I implore, stop wearing those faces, I'm weird enough in my own, I don't want you to own my lore, I'm prolly a Polybius, impervious to imagination, obviously what's obvious isn't how it's all supposed to be, innocence is so vicious, infectious, prolly oblivious, it's my Polybius, so ?

it's a mad world and it grows, it glows in the dark, it doesn't matter how far you run, who you are , how far you are, what you've done,  it won't ask, it's prolly Polybius, no ?
Druzzayne Rika Aug 2018
What day it is
what place is this
Answer is there
I can see
but cannot see
the book is open
unreadable

the seamless
more I know less
up to the point
I know what I want
till nothing to
wait for
the sour feeling
keeps coming

driving slow
not missing sun's glow
it is bright
like always
beating on its own
the little heart
from its start

many branches
of the root
all stretches
out
to find a better place
participating in
every race

further apart
from where I had started
no closer to the end
it is no better than
if I just stop
midstep

it is not money
not for this journey
all I do
is do it more
candle is melting
all the wax
how can I reform
myself

The structure
all that matters
is that it stands
no fall, no toll
it is not as simple
to make the life boat sail
Alyalyna Jan 2018
I’d love to pour out all of my anger
Tell the whole world who you’ve been dating lately
Tell the whole world who you’ve been cheating on baby
In what filthy things you’ve been participating
Should I remind you I embraced you daily
And now you’re acting shady
And kind of shocking and maybe
I ******* with a wrong person
But I was
Completely into our friendship
Indeed, I loved you
You said I ruined it
I say you ruined me
I helped you out a thousand times
Now will you help me out of all this ****
Who’s now a piece of crap
Who’s now to blame
Why didn’t you tell everything?
You’re struggling now for your fame
That’s why you’re so late
With all your blames
And when your so called diva moment comes down
You’re gonna understand how much you were wrong
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2013
Picture perfect world your conception flows on the canvas the old fence post and snow covered barb
Wire touches where I walked in youth the ruts in the road the car that made them contained my family
That doesn’t exist anymore but for a brief moment your brush and paint made them live again what a
Thrill the purr of the engine the car heater the sounds of dad and mom and sister lingers on the cold icy
Wind you created with soul and emotion I saw dad rolling a cigarette from a bag of bullduarm my
Mother has on a silk head scarf my sister is drawing in the frost on the window down and out of this
Winter scene our trip would take us to dad’s mom’s house what wonderful memories come to mind on
Those special holidays back then it seemed it always snowed before Thanksgiving and remember how
The snow would be just a mess of brown slush melting in the street they say slow down and smell the
Roses that’s good advice but stop and stand still in the room freeze the moment observe it in the
Minutest detail one day you will ache with longing if only you could step across time’s barrier touch
Grandmother’s lovely hand hear that one of a kind voice as a five year old she spun a web of adventure
All the places we were going to visit her wheel chair didn’t figure in she was the one who in the
Depression took a Walton’s truck look alike and loaded up nine children and headed to the Indian
Nation in Oklahoma that was a good trip from central Illinois I can see her participating in the shawl
Dance what a beautiful sight so I never doubted about visiting all those places and we did she spoke and
We left the widow she always set by in the kitchen we traveled on golden wings of memory you know I
Believe they were better trips than if we had gone for real her braided hair was still black as coal
Although there were strands of white snow laced through and it was a wonder how her skin was so
Brown in winter and it wasn’t from setting in the sun the previous summer what wonder lies in dreams
You see feel and hear them so well just like a painter takes the real pulls it from the air and instills it on
Cloth canvas they take the true spirit from rivers make it accost the gentle parts of our natures they
Invigorate the night sky by itself at times it is to distant the painter gives it a close friendliness a soothe
Pervades they in wrap you in the enthralling parts the part of darkness is allowed to seep into the mind
In such a personnel way you alone possess the charm and glow of night’s magical array thank you dear
Artist for setting free the very real that is so elusive but you bring it into crystal clear view
Being unable to participate
during the worship service
is a poor spiritual sign.

Unwillingness to offer praise,
while standing in His Presence,
shows a deficient of new wine.

For the obvious silence
reveals an apparent lack of Faith
and failure to know God's design.

A desire of heavenly passion
cannot resonate from within,
when not letting your love for Him to shine.

For the true strength of one's belief
is confirmed only by the spoken Word -
Provided it's not diluted with some earthly whine.

The tongue, always will unwittingly confess,
the secrets of our hearts, to see if...
One is actually striving for the Lord divine.




Author Notes:

The phrase "a deficient of new wine" is not a reference to the alcoholic product. It is regarding the "spiritual wine", which is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

When we are intentionally sinning, the presence of God leaves us, hence the deficient state.

It should also be noted, that there are moments during the "worship service" where we should not be silent. When participating in the "song service", the singing of praises to Him should be vocalized - hence, the "spoken word".

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

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