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jeffrey conyers Jun 2012
Myth has created many misguided views.
Be it about race.
Or an uneducated view.

We hear this race has endurance.
When it comes to this or that.
Especially about blonds being dumb.
When many are smarter then those that acts.

We hear people claiming when you step outside your race.
How mom, pop, granny is turning in their graves?
Except, who are they to say?

This uglinesss turns up in families of many kinds.
While many of us can adjust to accepting love is blind.

I saw you.
And not your pigmentation.
One race has ruin many, many nations.

I saw you.
And not your religion teaching.
It's a shame.
We get taught more racism from the preachers.

I saw you.
When your eyes attracted me.
I saw you.
When your personality got to me.
I saw you.
Plus your lovely face.
Altho' friends and relations saw your race.

And when they mention,
What color you are?
I simply saw you.

Not a Baptist.
Not a Catholic.
Not a Jew.
I simply saw you.

Similar to the way God see us through his view.
Gorgous, Pretty, Smart, Thats what we think
maybe its different, personality, the heart,
it makes more scense, the height, No one should care
looks, there just looks
beauty is on the inside, not the outside
beautiful is the Ego within
                         -Cathaline Cabreja
Noah A Baker Nov 2013
It wouldn't be hard, y'know...
Just, float away, really far,
I see your scars, I see your gold
and personality, oh... don't get me goin'.
Just know this
Your pain... I understand, no
it's your biggest strength, you just haven't realized it.
I have... now just listen
I'm coming off as... I don't know, this is stupid
I know I'm not Cupid, I'm simply a Human
But I can be a cloud, and you can too
and we can float away...
(rough draft)
anotherdream Apr 2018
Her actions were true,
Her motives were few.
But she never stopped,
Cause she always knew.

Someone told her she was beautiful,
Glowing with personality.
But she didn’t feel that way,
Not in her reality.

Her Destiny was clear,
When she entered the room,
It filled her lungs,
It happened so soon.

His eyes still glowed,
Though cloudy and weak.
She could smell his smoke,
Through the magic unseen.

They all called her Destiny,
For the stars in her eyes.
From the time that you see,
Till the day that you die.
Just an attempt to write a poem about a girl... but I lost creativity :P
Elizabeth P Nov 2015
a pocket watch floats by
golden
but dented, scratched, engraved, marked
on a highway of sorts of these pocket-watches

the pocket watches come in all sorts of metallic shades
some bland, small, and working
others large and delicately engraved
slowing to a stop in front of your very eyes
others mid-sized and beaten till the internal cogs show
long gone
floating all along this river in the sky

each mark tells a story
a metal a personality
an engraving a name
a dent an injury
a scratch a pain
each pocket-watch
a life.
Dear reader, when your time ends, what do you suspect your pocket watch will look like?
Sora Apr 2013
So there's this girl
Of course there's this one girl
She's got beautiful brown hair and eyes that shine brighter then the Northern Star
She's got a torn open heart that gives consideration and love to me
And her personality shines brighter then the headlights of any new car
Stood right behind me, wrapped her ever so gentle arms around my chest
Her soft voice said, "I love you" into my ear
I felt like I was home, Like I was in my own little nest
That was on a field trip...
She's got long perfect legs  that get me weak at the knee
She's got a soul that needs to be filled with love and security
And her life is like a weeping willow, a rotting, sorrowful tree
Walked alongside me, giggled shyly and with a smile
Her lips formed the words, "No you wouldn't be. You've got me."
Seemed like right then and for always,  was being tested, I was on trial
That was in the Commons...
She's got slim, nurturing arms and hands that make me melt
She's got emotions that run so deep, deeper then the Grand Canyon
And her story made me want to be her safety harness, safety belt
Sat beside me, staring blankly at the far wall with a depressed, dull look
Her actions took me by surprise, like a tsunami of optimism
Appeared as though she was hungry for love, and that was my specialty dish as a cook
That was in the Lobby...
There's this girl
Of course this one girl
After all of the things she's said and done,
I'm wondering..
If I should go for her.
Should I?
Completely true experience in my life.
Help!
jeffrey conyers Nov 2012
Let me ratify this information to you.
I feel it's just knowledge you need to know.
As I list ten reasons to love you so.

Your heart.
If others had just half of what you have.
I feel this would be a better world.
This is reason number one.

Your soul.
I hadn't met anyone close to caring the way you do.
It must be the quality deep within you.
This is reason number two.

Your brain.
Your intelligence level is high recommendable.
You have guide me through mistakes I failed to see.
This is reason number three.
Of my ten reasons

When you focus we accomplish so much more.
Much more then I ever thought was possible.

Your sweet personality.
Rubs off on those surrounding you.
It's hard to be cruel within your company.
This is my reason number four.

Your faith.
Your beliefs are beyond questioning.
That being faithful is a godly blessing.
This is reason number five.
That when we walk by faith.
Our hopes comes alive.

Your strength.
It stands out in your support.
You don't lose hope.
When things gets rough.
This is reason number six.
Of my ten reasons.

Your Angelic presence.
Your head might be missing a halo.
It doesn't stop your anointing from showing..
This is reason number seven.

Your smile.
People question you about it.
Except you're so proud of it.
This is reason number eight.
Make no mistake.
I simply adore it.

Your kindness.
No one I've met.
Have shown your kind of forgiveness.
This is reason number nine.

And reason number ten.
Is simply because you love me.
Why should I work to keep you happy?

Let this sink it
And if you need me too.
I'll repeat it again.
All my ten reasons.
Claire Ellen Feb 2013
i am strong in my faith,
i am strong in my personality.
i am strong in my body,
i am weak in my views,
persuade me easily.  
i am weak in my head,
use me easily.
i am alive in my spirit,
i am alive in the summer.
i am alive and breath air,
i am dead to the world,
no one knows me inside and out.
i am dead in the winter,
the cold shuts me in, leaves the cold out.
i am this and i could be that.
i am sleepy at night, and awake in the mornings.
i love the music when i'm happy,
i hear the words when i'm sad.
i want to live,
but i live with ghosts.
i want to grow,
but i grew my height in 6th grade.
i am a worshiper,
i am a curser.
i do what i want,
and usually dont think first.
but, you still don't know
who i am.
M Mar 2016
“The mass of men have been forced to be gay about the little things, but sad about the big ones. Nevertheless (I offer my last dogma defiantly) it is not native to man to be so. Man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial. Melancholy should be an innocent interlude, a tender and fugitive frame of mind; praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. Pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live. Yet, according to the apparent estate of man as seen by the pagan or the agnostic, this primary need of human nature can never be fulfilled. Joy ought to be expansive; but for the agnostic it must be contracted, it must cling to one corner of the world. Grief ought to be a concentration; but for the agnostic its desolation is spread through an unthinkable eternity. This is what I call being born upside down. The sceptic may truly be said to be topsy-turvy; for his feet are dancing upwards in idle ecstasies, while his brain is in the abyss. To the modern man the heavens are actually below the earth. The explanation is simple; he is standing on his head; which is a very weak pedestal to stand on. But when he has found his feet again he knows it. Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small. The vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world. Rather the silence around us is a small and pitiful stillness like the prompt stillness in a sick room. We are perhaps permitted tragedy as a sort of merciful comedy: because the frantic energy of divine things would knock us down like a drunken farce. We can take our own tears more lightly than we could take the tremendous levities of the angels. So we sit perhaps in a starry chamber of silence, while the laughter of the heavens is too loud for us to hear. And as I close this chaotic volume I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.”
quite long, but from G.K. Chesterton about joy.
Shanijua Aug 2014
His smile is contagious
his laugh unforgettable,
his personality unbeatable.
The stars do not compare
to his beauty, the beating
of the waves on the beach
have nothing on the thrill
he gives my heart.
My lips smile like a
fools' at the sight of
him. It's not love,
but infatuation still, my
emotions refuse to
differentiate. When
I was a little girl, I'd say
he gave me butterflies
But now as I'm older,
I can say those butterflies
have turned into gigantic
butterflies that feed on
my sanity. I have
all but confessed my
unyielding love upon him.
I pray to God he can't
read  my mind for I
would dig a six foot
hole to bury myself.
Josh Koepp Oct 2012
everyone loved the party
everyone left their drinks out
everyone slipped their appearance and personality
into everyone's cups
and everyone drank
deeply

not even tactfully
everyone was so obviously interested in everyone
because everyone was glowing
dragging everything distasteful they saw in the mirror
back into their wardrobe
to wear when they've finally won
or lost

everyone desired everything and everyone
so they made themselves appealing to everything and anyone
they shined themselves so much that they glowed
it showed their own self misery but i cannot deny
that it made me want everything

i wanted to share a small space
too small for clothes or regrets
but just large enough for sparks that come
and fade faster than i wanted to

i wanted everything
but that is with life you may only choose one
until then i'll shine myself up again and glow
and stow away my regrets
Luna Lynn Aug 2015
nothing but a dream and a pen
they say i'm too creative
to be working 9 to 5 again
who's to say i really didn't know
that nothing would come of
the dream i was sold
i just water the seed to watch it grow
but to harvest the farthest
is the distance i'll go
they say to never give up fully on a dream
keep the hope well alive
and your heart will be free
still entrapped within my mind's brutality
sometimes i'm told just to go
without even knowing the personality
it's a gift
it's a blessing
it's curse
it's all the same
do i do it for the love
or do i do it for the fame?
attention can be tricky on our sleeves to be as shade
when your world around flips upside down in a selfish pride parade
but who's to say i can't be proud
i speak my mind
i say it loud
i can't help that the words flow like water in a stream
that me without expression is a soul that lives unclean
a window to a world that remains unseen
you think you've seen the full on vision
but you're looking through a screen

let me open the door for you
and show you my dream
(C) Maxwell 2015
Brianna Dec 2013
I looked into this mirror
And saw every demon you ever told me I had.
Lust
Greed
Envy
Gluttony
There was probably more I but stopped listening after those four.
I Lusted after you and only you; with you green eyes and black hair. Your simple smile and devilish grin. Your words like knives slicing at my lips with each tiny remark you ever made.
I was Greedy over you and only you; the way I wanted you for myself and no one else. How I wanted to spend every minute of every hour staring at you picking you to pieces.
I was Envious of you and only you; your flawless personality at the time your perfect skin and your quick and clever comes backs to every joke.
I was Gluttonous over you and only you; I wanted to taste your whole body. Lick you from head to toes and just become one with your perfect body and soul.
I looked into that mirror
And laughed at all those demons you saw in me.
George Krokos Oct 2012
Good is the extension of God as His Spirit of manifestation in the phenomenal world.  That which constitutes our highest good is ultimately to do with living in tune with His Spirit and Word as revealed in either one of the great religions of the world or by being in harmony with someone who is the very embodiment of the Spirit of God.  Once such a person is fortunately found our life takes a turn for the better then.  And by following his or her advice we partake of His grace and love which flows through them and leads us on in the journey back to our True Home which is none other than the Reality of Eternal Life.  That person helps us to realise we are not the body which we are identified with but a free Spirit Soul.  
By re-identifying ourselves with our True Nature we come to recognize that we are indeed made in the image and likeness of God our Divine Father.  That which is not restricted to any construct of the human mind and is beyond imagination is Divine.  This is sometimes revealed to a select few in the form of a revelation or philosophy from time to time and is what history calls religion and is uplifting and blissful.  The ordinary human mind and intellect cannot comprehend or fathom that which is beyond it but only staggers at the attempt, bewildering as it is to the ego which is the seat of the mind and limited individual personality.  Only by the sustained gradual removal of the ego and its eventual death can the limited individual being or soul re-establish its unity or oneness with the Infinite Being God, forevermore enjoying that Divine State of bliss.
__________________­__
mk Aug 2015
promise me that when i’m gone
you won’t cry, that you’ll stay strong
promise me you’ll never compromise
on health or education
& you’ll never stop caring
about your people or your nation
promise me you’ll exercise
drink lots of water and eat well
promise me you’ll make the most of every day
and not see this world as a living hell
surround yourself with positivity
stay away from all the hate
always trust your instinct
and never give in to fate
kiss your mother everyday
give your little brother hugs
sit outside and breathe the fresh air
drink herbal tea out of cute mugs
do things for yourself
but never forget your duties
you are a great person with great potential
and with that comes great responsibilities
make a change in this world
be loyal, honest and just
find someone to live your life with
someone to truly love, not just lust
find purpose and meaning
and do things with good intentions
offer your help to strangers
every time pain or difficulty is mentioned
promise me just one little thing
that you’ll take care of yourself and others
promise me you’ll always be
the kind of son dreamt of by your mother
be true to yourself
that’s all i ask
never let your personality
be veiled by a mask
promise me when i’m gone
you’ll continue on
show the world your true colors
& *make me proud
// tonight we stand, get off our knees. fight for what we’ve worked for all these years //

-tum mujh mein kaheen baqi rehna.
jeffrey conyers Oct 2012
Your good qualities speaks for themself.
You're a woman of worth.
One I love so very much.

Your personality lighting up a room.
Who wouldn't wants to be in the company of you?
You're a woman of worth.

You're the type a man should cherish.
The type that he would give his all for.
Go more than the distance required.
Cause you're a worth of worth

What you will receive will be honesty and trust?
Cause it's something you more deserve and asked for.
As a woman of worth.

You're priceless.
Simply not for sell.
August Dec 2012
You are the epitome
Of a cult of personality
To pull the ink out of
A calligraphy pen
And make it shape
Into your face,
Now that would be,
An honour.
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
I spoke and my words along with me started to fade away
Nothing more or less than a gentle sea breeze
Never to be seen but always to be heard
We can feel each other but you'll never find me
Your heart could pretend to love me
I know you're cold
I smell nice and your skin so soft
Getting off track but that's what eternity does to you
My mind hasn't gone it's just occupied by the changes in the ocean
Of your emotion and impossible to read chicken scratch personality
I've lost it all but go with the flow so you know even though
I'm not around all the time I still feel the want to touch
Your life don't forget me I love you very much
Inhale the courage to exhale my name
and one day I might breeze passed you again
Liv Feb 2014
i smile, sometimes
when I see that everyone I care about is black and white
not because we are sad
although we are
but because we all share
a love for the absence of color
because we see things differently
with a different light, a different vibrancy
my whole life I've searched for another
black and white personality
never thinking that i'd end up
with people quite like you
you know who you are
Erin Lewis Nov 2012
He smiled
That was all I remember from that day
That's all that mattered.
His hair feathered,
His eyes deep,
His body... sigh...
Incredible.
He might seem like everybody else
But there is something different about him
He has a gasp personality?
What an amazing thing.
Not something found in highschool anymore

But all that I really love
Is that smile
It takes my breath away
Takes my words away
(Annoyingly)
Its a real smile.
And its perfect

All I could ask for
Is that he would smile,
Just once,
For me.
Only me.
Nikita Jun 2015
Your personality reminds me of water

You're either warm and inviting
Or cold and ignorant
You can never stay still
Your hair like waves
And even though sun reflects off you like diamonds

I can still see right through you
John Bartholomew Sep 2018
To be called a name is not a nice thing at all
Labelled, branded, be called derogatory by a person who's views are usually quite candid
It plays on the mind for these answers you can't find and can leave a man almost lost
You fought, you battled, laughed off the daily crap and got back in the saddle
But these words have left you thinking and now slightly rattled
I've worked, took the flack, done some things wrong and gotten the sack
It's a part of life, the everyday strife, knowing where to put your foot next
And then it's read online, a social media site, your name downtrodden in text
Not all know it's meaning, but words can harm feelings, towards a person you've always admired
Life has it's negatives, for sometimes they cannot miss, a soul who used to inspire
So maybe that was it, a dig in midst,
were they drunk whilst typing this abuse and to cause a small personality bruise
It'll fade, a forgotten quip, but nobody likes to be seen as a man just out to use.

Named

JJB
There are two types of humans in this world: those who function so they can get something and those who function so they can give something - Sarah Noffke
the voices say to take up less
because im too large
because i cant
JUST BE ******* SMALLER
but i never will
GET ******* SMALLER
do it right
because my personality is
TOO ******* BIG
i have to make myself
so
*******
small
TOO ******* LOUD
because i
DONT DESERVE TO BE NOTICED
because i dont deserve to exist
to
take
up
this
much
space
yeah... so... anorexia is... fun... (i havent eaten in days)
jeffrey conyers Dec 2013
Think back.
Yes, think back and put yourself in your mother shoes.
Yes, of both parents, she's the best advocate.

And the main one to say, of all the things I do for you.
And this, is how you treat me?
Just wait!
Just wait, until you have your own

Yes, think back.
Truly think back about ALL the things your mom has done for you.

When you cry?
Who the comforter of calm expression?
When you scrape your knee?
Who's the nurse trying to heal you?

Truly, when it comes to their child there's nothing our mom won't do.
They deserving of all the love.
They deserving of so much more.

To those that have had bad experiences with their mother.
Remind yourself that within your heart you still love them.
There's a highly good chance they taught you to read more.
They truly support the kids more.
Dad, brags a little too.
But not the way mothers do.

Think back.
Who has photos to embarrass you as  a child?
Quickly to pull them out and show them around.
Yes, it's mom.

We hear ministers preach about Jesus.
And as much as he has the quality of God.
He also has the personality of his mother Mary.

Yes, think back.
Of the sweet and nice lady that loves to bring up marriage
Welcome other children's with an opening HEART.

Yes, it's mom.
The first lady we will ever love.
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
zb May 2018
when i was younger,
afternoons meant screaming matches;
sorry, i mean screaming
lectures, maybe
or sessions
never matches-
we were never allowed to reply
or she'd scream louder and
louder.

i grew up ashamed.
ashamed of my body
ashamed of my personality
ashamed of my quirks and ticks
ashamed of what made me, me
i hated them.
i wanted to strip them away,
peel off my skin,
bleach my face,
burn my hands,
remove anything
that made me her target.
to this day, i still
hold out hope
that i may one day
stop hating myself.

crying was a weakness
unworthy of comfort
i have no memory
of being comforted
or held
just
alone
my pillow and my stuffed animals
for company
oh, how i longed to be held
just once
just for a moment,
someone to hold me up
when i couldn't breathe.

she used to tell us
the reason she screamed so loudly
was because she had tried, in the past
to speak softly.
apparently, we never listened.

i don't remember her
ever speaking evenly
i don't remember a day
without screams
(oh the screams)
filling the house, my mind
and even if she had tried so hard
to be quiet with us, and failed,
aren't mothers supposed to be patient,
even if the children do not listen?

i hated the way she would scream, yes
but more than that i hated
the way she would tower over me
face inches from mine,
eyes alight with what i could only
describe as
pure hatred
the image still haunts me
i'm still scared of her eyes, sometimes.

she gets so mad, sometimes.
i'm convinced she is not aware,
she does not remember
the things she says
when she is taking out her anger
on me.
a blind rage.
isn't that all i am?
an outlet for her anger?
the antagonist to her lead character?
the useless child she has to drive to school
for two more years?
will i ever be anything but
the result of years of anger?
the target of her mockery?
the recipient of her insults?
will i ever be more than
ugly
*****
disgusting
manipulative
evil
fat
stupid
dumb
unca­ring
unloving
ungrateful
a monster
a brat
a demon
a pig
an animal
boring
antisocial
timid
unlikeable
unwanted?

i have only ever known her to be sharp
harsh
disgusted with anything i do
that's why it hurts
when she gives me brief hugs,
smiles,
tells me she only screams
because she loves me
because i know
her intentions are pure
if her actions
are knives slotted between
my ribs.
a vent poem, inspired by some of the stuff i've been reading here.
R Apr 2013
I never thought about how much I
Hate myself.
It's practically to a point where I
Can't deal with myself
Anymore.
I hate my
Body,
It's the outside shell that
Gets judged
By them.
I hate my
Personality,
Sometimes it's not
Enough
Or it's too much.
I hate my
Height,
I'm always too
Short
And my lovers are too tall.
And last but not least,
I hate the
Way I care about you.

Caring for you is so hard,
You act like you care about me.
You cuddle with me,
And when our feet touch it's
electric
And we
Play with each others hair,
Which is fun too.
I always get so close to kissing you
And yet
You turn away.
I know it's not your thing and
To be honest
It's not mine either.
But,
For some reason,
I'd kiss you
All day,
Everyday.
Clean heart and clean eyes are real bless
Clear communication is the key to success
It is not good to play with innocents chess
Face is the index of mind of personality dress

Blessed is the one who helps all and sundry
Keeps all in solace and remains himself free
He is the one who keeps all under shady tree
He is not jealous and does not carry jealousy

Love comes and takes him on a love ride
He is rewarded for his real generous stride
He always in reality remain real love guide
Even if he dies,is remembered far and wide

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Q Jul 2013
I forget sometimes, why
I'd stopped caring what you do
Now we talk again (we lie)
And I seriously ******* hate you

You make me a blubbering mess
Of vulnerability and anxiety
And under any amount of duress
I'll admit my hatred and push you from me

You grate on my nerves with your easy smile
So confident whilst I am without esteem
The very sight of you chokes me on my own bile
I wish to rend your flesh from your bones as you scream

I hate you
Abhor you
Despise you
Loathe you

And no matter how attractive
You used to be to me
Your personality is just ugly enough
For me to hate you with glee
Christian Ek Aug 2014
Little red circle lighting up the night.
Conversations lasting longer than your cigarette.
Bottled soul, your more passionate than you think, you'll let your mind smoke for the hell of it.
We share drinks until our lips get lit.
The unfit will be the last bottle drop, ignorant kids.
Forgotten teens that life neglected but were gifted. Forsaken but awaken.
Those that gave into personality shape shifts. Two older brothers still trying to make it.
sankavi Jan 2021
I hate bpd with a passion
one moment I can't stop laughing
the next I am swimming in the overwhelming thoughts that fill my head
crying out an ocean full of fear and sadness
in a couple of minutes, I am back to normal

I hate that I have a favourite person
someone I base all my emotions upon
I am aware it is not fair for them
having to be there for me all the time
or else I crumble
I don't want to be dependent on one person
but how do I stop
Atchafalaya -
Such mystery seemed to reside in this cluster of letters:
The music of it's sounds, the mystery of it's meaning and origin,
the vastness of the swamp underneath the bridge.
In my youth, the bridge seemed like a sidewalk to wondrous new vista -
A frontier with a new wilderness -
At once strange and familiar, unknown but innate -
At first, it's lull stultified the buoyant mood that began the journey -
Where the piney woods turned into the swampy alluvium of Louisiana,
A state with instant personality, apparent in the ravaged roads
That sang against the car tires a desperate song of it's savage frailties
That could impassion or disappoint, or a combination of both,
Where the Highway Patrol were unseen despots
Lurking in the murky weeds and trees
But (luckily) only as scenery in my stories.
Where the lure of New Orleans began to emerge,
My imagination running wild with drunken tales of spicy food
And sensuous women, looking for unspoken desires
In de Beinville's Vieux Carré, where Old God's run wild -
This place where magic was in the freedom found there -
Tip-toeing, drunk, across the sharpened swords -
Through the chicken-bloodied doors -
Ah, but the swamp was a source of strange dreams and visions
Throughout my life,
And it will always make my heart race
When I approach the Atchafalaya Basin Bridge.
Feels like a draft, but why not?
Redshift Feb 2013
you're complaining at me
that you're hurt
that all the dirt
i said about you
and the crap that you do
made you bleed.
you're trying to tell me
that i need
to hear you out
but you don't hear ME
your one-sided personality
is shouting too
loud.

if you don't want to bleed
don't break hearts...
you ought to be more careful,
you'll get cut on the shards.
all you want is sympathy
another dull
piece of me
to add to your collection
of empty affection.

— The End —