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Sestina

Since time’s morning we all have seen the tower
In the far corners of each eye—
Its shape, its presence, was constant
And dark and cold as its steel pillars,
Which linked the earth to the aloft
As it left its hidden peak among the clouds.

How light and fragile seemed those clouds,
Yet how strong, as they embraced the pillars
Far above the common watcher’s eye
As if their undulations were what kept aloft
The gray, unmoving tower,
The only scaffolds to hold it constant.

But nothing in the cosmos is truly constant,
And nothing in the earth stays perpetually aloft,
Even the pillars
Of the groaning tower
As the wisps of the clouds
Began to pull away from the reach of the tower’s eye.

And how it burst, that eye
Of the suddenly trembling tower
As, from their place aloft
The fading clouds
Heard a promise of “I have always been constant”
From the hoarse vibrations of the mercury pillars.

But the wisps could not be persuaded, and the pillars
Erupted in a terrible shriek as the clouds
Strove to leave the tower
With a peaceful message as the constant
Jettisons from the tower’s erupting eye
Could not remain aloft.

Built, shaped, constructed to hold itself aloft,
No one considered that the tower could not stay constant
Upon the dissipation of those clouds—
First fell, screaming, the eye
And then the buckled, madly clawing pillars,
And so collapsed the tower.

And still the tower’s wreckage remains at the edge of our eye,
The constant twisting, twitching of the pillars,
As they feebly reach to the aloft and the faded strands of the clouds.


Villanelle

This is the tower’s story,
Witnessed by my truthful kin,
Such as it was told to me.

A desperate pursuit made he
After his love, to save him
This. Is the tower’s story

More than it had seemed to be?
What’s about’s seldom within,
Such as it was told to me.

Even though an elegy,
A tale of truth beneath skin
This is. The tower’s story

Is harsh memento mori
For a soul who’s always been—
Such as it was told to me.

Was such a thing meant to be?
Surely, not to have been seen.
This is the tower’s story,
Such as it was told to me.



Sonnet

I heard recountings of profound despair,
About a man with eye and tongue of brass.
The day before, I’d seen his icy stare;
The evening next, his story came to pass.

How strange, distressing, were those words to hear
Of how his love accepted death’s kind call;
The screaméd pleas and how he drew her near—
Unheard, unseen, his anguish wrings my soul.

The image of his twisted countenance
Within my mind—his visage turned to red—
Invades my every thought. What cruel romance,
How he caressed her hands as she lay dead.

And how that icy stare seems now to me—
What once was brass is naught but mercury.


Pantoum**

He would do all to be with her
As he pleaded,
Clinging to her arms
Like a lost child.

And he pleaded,
His eyes streaming
Like a lost child’s,
And told her,

“Is my screaming
Not enough to stop you?”
And, bolder,
“I can’t let you go.”

“What’s enough to stop you
From telling me,
‘I can’t let you know?’”
She starkly asked.

“You’re telling me
What I have never said;
Be stark—we basked
In trust and love;

What have I ever said
That burns enough to turn
Our trust and love
To pain and death?”

“The worlds so roughly turn—
We could not stop the dread machines
Of pain and death
As long as we live.”

He could not stop the dread machines—
Clinging to her arms,
How long could he live?
He would do all to be with her.
All four of these poems are written from the perspective of a fictional poet about two other characters of mine. Technically a school assignment, these will be very helpful for the story itself.
Fah Aug 2013
(via phatphilosophers)

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(via phatphilosophers)
jeffrey-lebowski:

Untitled by Yayoi Kusama.
Acrylic on canvas, 45.5 x 38.0 cm. Signed and dated 1993
jeffrey-lebowski:
Untitled by Yayoi Kusama.
Acrylic on canvas, 45.5 x 38.0 cm. Signed and dated 1993
(via phatphilosophers)

These are the days that must happen to you.
Walt Whitman, from Leaves Of Grass (via violentwavesofemotion)
(via phatphilosophers)
18 HOURS AGO / LARMOYANTE
axiatonal:

Canola Flowers Field, China
axiatonal:
Canola Flowers Field, China
(via awaveofbliss)

(via awaveofbliss)

whatisadvertising:
What would modern technology and social networks look like if they were vintage ads
This is a post gathered Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, Skype, iMac, Nintendo Wii and Sony Playstation as if they were vintage ads.
(via thebronxisburning)
aplacetofindlife:

Someone Should Start Laughing
I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: How are you?  I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: What is God? If you think that the Truth can be known From words, If you think that the Sun and the Ocean Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,
O someone should start laughing! Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!- Hafiz
aplacetofindlife:
Someone Should Start Laughing

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
How are you?

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
What is God?

If you think that the Truth can be known
From words,

If you think that the Sun and the Ocean
Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,

O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!

- Hafiz
(via cosmic-rebirth)

meditationsinwonderland:
Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, We Should All Be Feminists
How could I not reblog this?
(Source: bakongo)
1 day ago – 234,004 notes

artismyempire:
gentledom:
A wonderful analogy.
What I shall do today.
(Source: boyqueen, via thebronxisburning)
1 day ago – 30,054 notes

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1 week ago – 81 notes
beachsloth:

SYNESTHESIA by Joshua Espinoza
                God watches everyone’s first kiss. Although God used to be an awesome God He’s been a bit lazier as the years have progressed. Long ago God felt that raining frogs on Egypt was cool. People were turned into pillars of salt for looking at the destruction of their towns. Now God isn’t into that whole vengeful thing. Rather He realizes the importance of free will and understands it is more important than any instruction manual.
                Dreams are the ultimate instructional manual. Sub-conscious hates being a sub. Sub-conscious wants to be dom-conscious. Unfortunately such things do not happen anymore. Drinking dreams from people is potentially delicious. Flab is the hallmark of a family man or woman. Their dreams have become realities. Mere impulses of creatures become vaguely self-sustaining then fully self-sustaining. Right in the heart is where the familial love lives. Floaters in the eyes are more than floaters. When one sees floaters they see ghosts. Floaters are ghosts for the vision-impaired.
                Afterlife is big into God. Death brings people closer to God. They live in God’s domain hoping for the best. From on high the angels live on the down low. Beneath angels are the exciting ones, the ones they can and do mess up. Humans are interesting for their ability to mess up all the time and somehow remain completely loved. Every human is made in God’s image. Once people come back to God they realize how much of their decisions were good, how the evil was more than counterbalanced by the good. Living in Earth tends to make people forget how fortunate they really are.
                The world hates leaving people behind. In Heaven everything is fine. From Heaven people can see themselves from light-years away. Such distance makes it easier to see what the right and wrong decision was. Death takes the people away. Online presences remain long after the body has left. Everything has a digital footprint entirely different from their real life footprint. Sometimes it is bigger and sometimes smaller. It depends on the lust for life.
                Kissing is a form of lust. Lips love each other. Lips like locking together. That is where the key to the heart comes from, from the lips. Words flow from the mouths of babes. Life means the words work well but the tones work better. Even babies understand the importance of tone. Words are meaningless. Tones are tender. People wrap themselves up in tones, in the environmental sounds that surround them for that is what it means to be alive: it means to interact.
beachsloth:
SYNESTHESIA by Joshua Espinoza
                God watches everyone’s first kiss. Although God used to be an awesome God He’s been a bit lazier as the years have progressed. Long ago God felt that raining frogs on Egypt was cool. People were turned into pillars of salt for looking at the destruction of their towns. Now God isn’t into that whole vengeful thing. Rather He realizes the importance of free will and understands it is more important than any instruction manual.
                Dreams are the ultimate instructional manual. Sub-conscious hates being a sub. Sub-conscious wants to be dom-conscious. Unfortunately such things do not happen anymore. Drinking dreams from people is potentially delicious. Flab is the hallmark of a family man or woman. Their dreams have become realities. Mere impulses of creatures become vaguely self-sustaining then fully self-sustaining. Right in the heart is where the familial love lives. Floaters in the eyes are more than floaters. When one sees floaters they see ghosts. Floaters are ghosts for the vision-impaired.
                Afterlife is big into God. Death brings people closer to God. They live in God’s domain hoping for the best. From on high the angels live on the down low. Beneath angels are the exciting ones, the ones they can and do mess up. Humans are interesting for their ability to mess up all the time and somehow remain completely loved. Every human is made in God’s image. Once people come back to God they realize how much of their decisions were good, how the evil was more than counterbalanced by the good. Living in Earth tends to make people forget how fortunate they really are.
                The world hates leaving people behind. In Heaven everything is fine. From Heaven people can see themselves from light-years away. Such distance makes it easier to see what the right and wrong decision was. Death takes the people away. Online presences remain long after the body has left. Everything has a digital footprint entirely different from their real life footprint. Sometimes it is bigger and sometimes smaller. It depends on the lust for life.
                Kissing is a form of lust. Lips love each other. Lips like locking together. That is where the key to the heart comes from, from the lips. Words flow from the mouths of babes. Life means the words work well but the tones work better. Even babies understand the importance of tone. Words are meaningless. Tones are tender. People wrap themselves up in tones, in the environmental sounds that surround them for that is what it means to be alive: it means to interact.
(via bluishtigers)
1 week ago – 74 notes

(Source: samsaranmusing)
1 week ago – 78 notes
maymonsturr:

My mantra.
maymonsturr:
My mantra.
(via cosmic-rebirth)
1 week ago – 568 notes
foxxxynegrodamus:

***
foxxxynegrodamus:
***
(Source: lnpfeed, via awaveofbliss)
1 week ago – 1,635 notes
cosmic-rebirth:

Live joyfully, make your life a dance, all the way to the grave.
cosmic-rebirth:
Live joyfully, make your life a dance, all the way to the grave.
(Source: cookiecarnival)
2 weeks ago – 22,305 notes
“The point is not to pay back kindness but to pass it on.”
– Julia Alvarez (via cosmic-rebirth)
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2 weeks ago – 275 notes

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2 weeks ago – 2,799 notes
bl4ckhippie:

Fly.
bl4ckhippie:
Fly.
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2 weeks ago – 750 notes

(Source: lizzlizzcomics, via bluishtigers)
2 weeks ago – 110,456 notes
meditationsinwonderland:

ॐ flower child in Wonderland ॐ
meditationsinwonderland:
ॐ flower child in Wonderland ॐ
(Source: vegan-hippie)
2 weeks ago – 139,177 notes

(Source: jrich103, via cosmic-rebirth)
2 weeks ago – 4,848 notes

pleoros:
Helminadia Ranford - Guilin,China
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2 weeks ago – 329 notes
designgather:

Oak Room
Andy Goldsworthy
designgather:
Oak Room
Andy Goldsworthy
(via cosmic-rebirth)
2 weeks ago – 286 notes
miguu:
don’t be afraid.
lean into your genius.
let your own brilliance support you.
you are something
we have all been waiting to know.
please.
(via bluishtigers)
2 weeks ago – 339 notes

odditiesoflife:
Amazing Jabuticaba Tree
This is an incredible tree that bears its fruit directly on the main trunks and branches of the plant, lending a distinctive appearance to the fruiting tree. The jabuticaba (Plinia cauliflora) is a fruit-bearing tree native to Minas Gerais and São Paulo in southeastern Brazil. Otherwise known as the Brazilian Grape Tree, the jabuticaba is grown for its purplish-black, white-pulped fruits. They can be eaten raw or be used to make jellies and drinks, including juice and wine.
They are wonderful trees to have and are fairly adaptable to most environments but they grow extremely slow. Jabuticaba flowers are white and grow directly from its trunk, just like its fruit. The tree may flower and fruit only once or twice a year, but when continuously irrigated, it flowers frequently and fresh fruit can be available year round in tropical regions.
Common in Brazilian markets, jabuticabas are largely eaten fresh; their popularity has been likened to that of grapes in the US. Due to its extremely short shelf-life, fresh jabuticaba fruit is very rare in markets outside of areas of cultivation. So if you are ever in Brazil, be sure to try the incredibly tasty fruit called jabuticaba.
source 1, 2
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2 weeks ago – 1,462 notes

(Source: samsaranmusing)
2 weeks ago – 118 notes

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2 weeks ago – 130,113 notes
oecologia:

Star Trails over Matterhorn (Switzerland) by Felix Lamouroux.
oecologia:
Star Trails over Matterhorn (Switzerland) by Felix Lamouroux.
(via samsaranmusing)

burningveins:
multicolors:
benskid:
Know where you stand.
Wow
This is kinda creepy..
(via hungryforworld)

Do not think you will necessarily be aware of your own enlightenment.
Zen Master Dogen - (1200- 1253) AD (via samsaranmusing)
2 WEEKS AGO
101fuymemes:

COLLECTION OF awesome CLOUDS
101fuymemes:
COLLECTION OF awesome CLOUDS
(via roslynoberholtzerbddd)

itscolossal:
Planetary Structural Layer Cakes Designed by Cakecrumbs

Do not resist events that move you out of your comfort zone, especially when your comfort zone was not all that comfortable.
Alan Cohen (via raeraenjma)
(via awaveofbliss)
4 WEEKS AGO / THE-HEALING-NEST
so apt
so apt
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(via awaveofbliss)
treewellie:

"The area between Kluane Lake and Haines Junction, Yukon, skirting the great cordillera of the Wrangell / St. Elias Mtn. range, is commonly productive of these stacked lenticular clouds … In late summer, as the sun begins to set around 11 PM, it’s beautiful to see these unique clouds, which are higher in altitude than their surrounding companions, catching the last peach coloured rays of the sun."
treewellie:
"The area between Kluane Lake and Haines Junction, Yukon, skirting the great cordillera of the Wrangell / St. Elias Mtn. range, is commonly productive of these stacked lenticular clouds … In late summer, as the sun begins to set around 11 PM, it’s beautiful to see these unique clouds, which are higher in altitude than their surrounding companions, catching the last peach coloured rays of the sun."
definitelydope:

BBQ on the balcony (by fernlicht)
definitelydope:
BBQ on the balcony (by fernlicht)
(via awaveofbliss)

Birth by Alex Grey
Birth by Alex Grey
(via receptive)

(via bluishtigers)

(via awaveofbliss)

There is a time and place for decaf coffee. Never and in the trash.
(via 17yr)
(via hungryforworld)
1 MONTH AGO / MIDWESTRAISEDMIDWESTLIVING
surreelust:

Man with His Skin by Peter Zokosky
surreelust:
Man with His Skin by Peter Zokosky
(via cosmic-rebirth)

Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul,
of the soul.
Rumi, from Who Am I?   (via bluishtigers)
(via bluishtigers)
1 MONTH AGO / VIOLENTWAVESOFEMOTION
xpudding:

xpudding:
(via cosmic-rebirth)

(via thebronxisburning)

(via cosmic-rebirth)
treewellie:

La costa de la luz by Francisco Mingorance
treewellie:
La costa de la luz by Francisco Mingorance

itscolossal:
Mirror City: A Kaleidoscopic Timelapse of Chicago, San Francisco, San Diego, Vegas and L.A. [VIDEO]

(via cosmic-rebirth)

awkwardsituationist:
gmb akash documents the 350 kilometre journey from dhaka to sylhet, bangladesh made by those who, unable to afford the price of a ticket or find room to ride inside, risk death by traveling atop and between train cars
(via suntochukwu)
purpleaggregates:

White Tara The female enlightened being of long life, wisdom and good fortune When I see the signs of untimely death, May I immediately receive the blessings of Arya Tara; And, having destroyed the Lord of Death, May I quickly attain the deathless vajra body. OM TARE TUTTARE TURE MAMA AYUR PUNAYE GYANA PUTRIM KURU YE SÖHA OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SÖHA
purpleaggregates:
White Tara
The female enlightened being of long life, wisdom and good fortune

When I see the signs of untimely death,
May I immediately receive the blessings of Arya Tara;
And, having destroyed the Lord of Death,
May I quickly attain the deathless vajra body.

OM TARE TUTTARE TURE MAMA AYUR PUNAYE GYANA PUTRIM KURU YE SÖHA
OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SÖHA
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hungryforworld:

Monet’s Garden. Givery, France.
hungryforworld:
Monet’s Garden. Givery, France.

(via awaveofbliss)

(via cosmic-rebirth)

Internal and external are ultimately one. When you no longer perceive the world as hostile, there is no more fear, and when there is no more fear, you think, speak and act differently. Love and compassion arise, and they affect the world.
Eckhart Tolle (via samsaranmusing)
(via suntochukwu)
1 MONTH AGO / SAMSARANMUSING
malformalady:

The golden spiral of fungus. In geometry, a golden spiral is a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is φ, the golden ratio. That is, a golden spiral gets wider (or further from its origin) by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.
Photo credit: Devin Raber
malformalady:
The golden spiral of fungus. In geometry, a golden spiral is a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is φ, the golden ratio. That is, a golden spiral gets wider (or further from its origin) by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.
Photo credit: Devin Raber
(via deeperthansoul)
polaroidsf:

Welcome to Eden
polaroidsf:
Welcome to Eden

(via bouddra)

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of
meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for
your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
Broderick Dec 2011
Shalt not crumble, pillars,
for you were constructed of strengthened metal.
Shalt not excuse yourselves, pillars,
for you have worked hare to receive
the payload bequeathed to you.
If others shall doubt your worth in silver,
show them the work you've made in gold.
Trust not in your cracks,
because others will test them to dismantle,
but hold firm, or may my wrath
(as wrath can bring a torrential rain, but is followed with the growing of life)
strengthen you further so you may intertwine caressed patterns,
implemented beneath your own fertile structure.
As my weight,
in both mass and meaning,
crushes down on you,
relinquish not,
falter not,
and hold the position you were molded for.
Shalt not crumble, pillars, and shalt not excuse yourselves, neither,
for your pride will always flow against the uncertainty of others.
E Elizabeth May 2013
This was inspired by dents on the pillars
Outside the porch before it began to rain
And their smoothness and dips and mountainous valleys
And inevitable destinations and their journeys
And feeling the rain before it fell, without touch,
And today will never be another tomorrow
And fleeting, transitory roughness.

This was inspired by dents on the pillars
As the foundation sank into shifting earth,
And its progressing non-smoothness
Laced cracks through the dents,
And I rumple my fingers into each notch
And feeling without touch, too,
And I remember slipping on an unsecured brick
And slamming my head against the pillar
And roughness and pain and inevitable destinations
Like hospital beds for the busted heads
And hallways for the churning stomachs.

The dents are molding from the rain
And yellowing with the oil from my fingertips
And I haven’t moved my hand in five years,
And the valleys are so deep now that I see flames dancing in the depths
But is the world so complex as that
Or is it simply same outcomes and same purposes
In an infinite score of time passing
And seven billion dents across an ornate pillar
That stands with so much pride
But feels hollow to me, is hollow.

I wish to feel each indentation
When feeling without touch won’t suffice,
But I haven’t moved my hand in 500 years
And this poem is about dents,
But it was only inspired by the honesty of them
Because it’s really about roughness and valleys
And oily finger swirls and inevitability and unsecured sameness
And the pillars keep sinking into themselves
And the dents are folding into the cracks
And I can no longer touch them with feeling.

There are smudges on your cheeks from my finger touches
And dents on your heartbeat from trying to keep mine in time to yours
And mountains in your mind that I fell for in the first place
And everything is transitory
And this poem is about the days you sought the pillars in my skull
And the night they began to sink into themselves
So that neither of us can reach them now.

There are dents on the pillars,
And it has begun to rain,
And you’ve curled miles into the folds of transitory time-passing
As if we were inspired by the dents, too.
a friend wrote a poem called "dents" and i used many of his words in shaping this one
RAJ NANDY Aug 2018
Dear Poet Friends, I conclude this series on The Enigma of Time by mentioning few important features about the concept of Time according to Modern Philosophy and Science. I have used a
simple format, and also tried my best to simplify the concepts for your kind appreciation. Unfortunately, there is no provision on this Poetry Site to show Diagrams to elucidate! If you like this one, kindly repost the same for wider circulation! Thank you, Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
            
       CONCLUDING THE ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE:
                      PART THREE – BY RAJ NANDY
              
              TIME ACCORDING TO MODERN PHILOSOPHY

UNREALITY Of TIME : Mc Taggart’s ‘A’ and ‘B’ Series:
Now skipping through the pages I come to Modern Philosophy, with Mc Taggart the British philosopher of the 20th Century.
He had acquired a substantial following with his 1908 paper on the ‘Unreality of Time’ initially.
With his quibbling argument he states, that moments in his ‘A’ Series of Time are either of past tense, present tense, or of future tense.
It is all about human perception, since we experience the past through our memories;
Become aware of the present through our senses, while future is pretty unknowable.
Here time appears to be flowing through us, as nothing remains stable around us!

In his ‘B’ Series of Time Mc Taggart expresses differences in moments of time as either Before or After,
Without using the tenses used in his ‘A’ Series of Time.
All parts in time can be expressed equally as points along a time line, in the absence of past, present, and future tense;
While here we appear to be flying through time in a metaphorical sense!
Thus in the ‘A series’ time appears to be flowing through us, but in ‘B series’ we seem to be flying through time on a timeline created by us!
Therefore, Mc Taggart finds both the ‘A’ and ‘B’ Series describing Time to be inadequate and also contradictory;
And he finally concludes that Time is unreal and does not exist in reality!

How Mc Taggart’s Theory Was  Updated :
Modern Philosophers have re-casted Mc Taggart’s theory in term of findings of Modern Physics.
His A-Theory is updated into ‘PRESENTISM’, which holds that only thing that is real is the ‘present moment’.
In ‘Presentism’ time has no past or future, and time has no duration either!
All things come into existence and drop out of existence, and past events no longer exist;
And since the future is undefined or merely potential, it too does not exist!

His B-theory is re-formulated into ‘ETERNALISM’ or the ‘Block Universe’, influenced by the later Theory of Relativity.
‘Eternalism’ holds that past events do exist even if we cannot immediately experience them, and future events also exists in a very real way.
The ‘flow of time’ we experience is just an illusion of consciousness.
Since in reality, time is always everywhere in an eternal sense!

Theory of Growing Block Universe:
It was proposed by the Englishman CD Broad in 1923, as an alternative to ‘Presentism’ where only the present exist;
And also as an alternative to ‘Eternalism’ where past, present, and future together also exist.
In ‘Growing Block Universe’ only the past and the present exist, but not the future.
Since the growing of the block happens in the present, with a very thin slice of space-time continuously coming into existence;  
Where consciousness as well as the flow of time are not active within the past,  
But they can occur only at the boundary of this ‘Growing Block Universe’!
Few scholars this concept did criticise, saying that in this theory the word ‘now’ can no longer be used to define Time!

But according to Einstein, this perception of ‘now’ that appears to move along a timeline, creating the illusion of ‘flow of time’, arises purely as a result of human consciousness;
And the way our brains are wired due to our evolutionary process, enabling us to deal with the world around us in a practical sense.
“People like us, who believe in Physics, know that the duration between the past, present, and the future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion,’’ said Einstein.

A poem on ‘The Paradox of Time’:
Now to lighten up my Reader’s mind, I present only the first three stanzas from ‘’The Paradox of Time’’, composed by the British poet Austin Dobson:
  “Time goes, you say? Ah no!
   Alas, Time stays, we go;
      Or else, were this not so,
  What need to chain the hours,
  For youth were always ours?

  Ours is the eye’s deceit
  Of men whose flying feet
     Lead through some landscape low;
  We pass, and think we see
  The earth’s fixed surface flee,
     Alas, time stays, we go!

  Once in the days of old
  Your locks were curling gold,
     And mine had shamed the crow.
  Now, in the self-same stage,
  We’ve reached the silver age,
  Time goes, you say? - ah no!
       Alas, time stays, we go!”
            
HOW LIGHT IS CONNECTED WITH THE CONCEPT OF TIME:
Brief Background:
I commence with quotes from the ‘Book of Genesis’ - Chapter One, along with my thoughts about Light and Time,
Before concluding this series with Albert Einstein’s concept of Space-Time.

“And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. ……And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth. And it was so.”
                                                      - BOOK Of GENESIS Chapter One.

Since ancient days, Light had acquired a religious and a spiritual significance.
Since Light became associated with goodness, intelligence and ultimate realty;
Light accompanies transcendence into Nirvana of Buddhist religious philosophy.
In due course the Sun began to be worshipped as an important live-giving deity.
As seen in the symbolic form of Egyptian Sun God Ra, and the Greek gods Helios and Hyperion as the Sun god and god of Light respectively.
In Hindu mythology Surya is the Sun god, and Ushas the goddess of Light.
Huitzilopochti, both the Sun god and god of War of the Ancient Aztecs was kept pleased with human sacrifice!

SOME PROPERTIES OF LIGHT:
Plato, during the 5th Century BC said that God was unable to make the World eternal, so gave it Time,  - “as the moving image of eternity.”
While some seven hundred years later St. Augustine in his ‘Confessions’ said,
That when God created the universe out of darkness with light, “the world was also created with Time, and not in time.”
Thus along with light, time also began to flow, while our scientists discovered a connection between the speed of light and time, few centuries ago!
To understand this connection between light and time, we must first understand something about the properties of light.
Light is the visible part of the electromagnetic spectrum* which can be perceived by our human eye.         (See Notes Below)
As seen in the red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet colors of the Rainbow in the sky,
When water droplets acting like countless prisms break up white sunlight!
Now this electromagnetic spectrum also contains the ultra violet and infra red spectrum which our eyes cannot see.
But this entire electromagnetic spectrum contains Photons, which are discreet packets of zero mass less energy.
In a vacuum light photons travel at 186,000 miles for second, which Einstein declared as the cosmic speed limit, and as an universal constant.
When a photon strikes the eye, it is turned into electrical energy that is transmitted to the brain to form an image which we call sight.

NOTES : Gama-rays, X-rays, Ultraviolet lights, have shorter wave lengths & more energy than Visible light. But Infrared, Microwave, Radio waves, with larger wave lengths are less energetic than the Visible spectrum of light. Sir Isaac Newton using a prism had discovered the spectrum of visible light, & used the word ‘spectrum’ for the first time in his book ‘Optick’ in 1671.

EINSTEIN'S SPECIAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 1905 :
In his Special Theory of Relativity of 1905, he stated that nothing can move faster than speed of light which is 186,000 miles per second.
This speed of light always remains the same, irrespective of its source and frame of reference.
Now the mass of an object would double if it travels at 90% of light’s speed.
But if the speed of light is reached, mass of an object would become infinite!
Since photons, the quantum particles that make up light have a zero mass, they move at the speed of light.
Even inside the World’s Largest Particle Collider (LDC), located near the French-Swiss Border,
Experiments are carried out only around 99.99% of Light’s speed, in accordance with the Laws of Physics.
Einstein had also shown mathematically that on reaching Light’s speed, Time will come to a standstill!
And should this Light’s speed be exceeded, then Time would start to travel backwards, which becomes a mind boggling concept!
Here we enter into the realm of science fiction, which has been described by HG Wells  in his popular novel ‘The Time Machine’.
But to become a time traveler shall always remain our cherished desire and dream!

NOTES: Only mass less particles like the photon can travel at light speed, photons experience no time, they do not age. Objects with mass cannot reach the speed of light since in that case its mass will become infinite. Also, one cannot see the fourth dimension because of Lorenz Contraction, which is also related to stopping of time, for at the speed of light an object will shrink to zero length! Also, particles interact with the Higgs' Field present all around to pick up mass, excepting photons which do not interact with this Higgs' Field.

Now Einstein’s theory of 1905 is called ‘Special’, because it explains how space and time are linked for objects that are moving in a straight line at a greater speed but which is constant.
Time moves relative to the observer, and objects in motion experience ‘Time Dilation’.
Meaning, time moves slowly when it is in motion, as compared to one who is standing still, -  a relative comparison.
This can be further explained by the ‘Twin Paradox’, where a 15 year old travelling in a spaceship at 99.5% speed of light for a period of 5 years,
Returns back to Earth to find himself to be only 20 years old.
But to his surprise he finds, his twin brother on Earth who was left behind, has reached the ripe age of 65 !

Limitations of Special Theory of Relativity:
It was confined to non-accelerating bodies only, and after ten years of deliberation,
Einstein added gravitational force field, space-time curvature, and acceleration, -
To formulate his General Theory of Relativity with satisfaction.

   SPACE-TIME & GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 1916 :
Isaac Newton during the 17th Century spoke about 'absolute time' and 'absolute space', accordance to the understanding of science of his Classical Age.
Space was the arena where the drama of the universe was played out, and this arena was passive, eternal, and unchanging no doubt.
Time too was absolute with an independent existence, and continued to beat independently like the heart beat of Space!
Newton also gave us the Laws of Motion, and Gravity, with more massive objects exerting more Gravity than a less massive one in reality.
Now one aspect of Special Relativity is that space and time are merged into a four-dimensional space-time entity,
They do not exist as separately as envisaged by Newton and Descartes during the 17th Century.
Some 250 years later Albert Einstein, defined Gravity as a curvature of Space-time.
Einstein also tells us that gravity can bend light, which travels along the curvature of this space-time.
Gravity is flexible, it could stretch like a fabric warping of space-time caused by objects present within it, in fact Gravity is the shape of space-time itself!
The Moon rolls around the curvature created in space-time fabric by the heavier object the Earth,
Just like the massive Sun which creates the depression and curvature around it for the planets of our solar system to orbit round the Sun. *

Einstein’s space-time has been likened to a stretched out vast rubber sheet,
Where heavier the planet, more depression it creates on the fabric of space-time along with its own gravitational field.
Einstein’s Space is not passive like that of Newton, but has a dynamic presence.
Interwoven with Time, Space tells Matter how to move, while Matter tells Space-Time how to curve - in this dynamic presence!
The constant speed of light at 186,000 miles per second, is just a measure of space of something which travels over time;
But both space and time had to adjust themselves to accommodate the constant speed of light!
Thus space, time, and the speed of light are all unified in the General Theory of Relativity,
We owe all this to Albert Einstein, one of the greatest scientists of our Century.
NOTES: **Planets orbiting the Sun do not fall back into the void of space due to the attraction of gravity, and also due to their individual speed of acceleration maintained in orbit as per Kepler's Second Law of Planetary Motion. Mercury has the fastest orbital speed of 48 km per second, Venus at 35 km per sec , and Earth at 30 km per sec. as their orbital speeds. Planets further from the Sun require lesser orbital speed.

UNFINISHED WORK OF EINSTEIN:
During his later years Einstein was secretly working to find a ‘Theory of Everything’,
Which would ultimately replace the erratic tiny micro world of Quantum Mechanics.
His Theory of General Relativity had dealt with the functions of gravity at the greater macro level of the universe only.
So he hoped to extend this theory to find an all embracing Unified Field Theory.
For at the subatomic quantum level, as the Englishman Thomson discovered in 1897,
The electrons inside an atom at times behaved in an alien fashion and were very unstable!
This world of the subatomic particles is a wondrous world where time becomes chaotic;
Where the position of the electrons cannot be predicted with certainty!
Einstein called this unpredictable and unstable behaviour of electrons as "spooky action at a distance"!
In the ‘double-split experiment’ it was seen, that the light photons behaved both like waves and as particles, -
Even though the speed of light remained constant.

EINSTEIN'S NOBLE PRIZE For PHYSICS AWARDED IN 1921:
Now despite Einstein's dissatisfaction with Quantum Mechanics it is rather ironical,
That the Nobel Prize in Physics was awarded to Einstein for his work on the ‘Photoelectric Effect’ at the Quantum level;
Which for the first time had suggested that Light travelled in Waves and also as Particles ( i.e. as photon)!
This observation led to the development of electron microscope, solar panels, night vision devices, at a later date.
Since his Special and General Theory of Relativity considered as ‘The Pillars of Modern Physics’, was still being examined by the Scientific Community;
And they could be proved and accepted only subsequently.

'STRING THEORY' PROPOSED AS THEORY FOR EVERYTHING:
During the 1970s the proponents of ‘String Theory’ had claimed, They found a Theory of Everything, following Einstein’s quest.
They claimed that micro vibrating open and closed looped strings gave rise to some 36 particles at the subatomic level;
But also required 10 dimensions for this 'String Theory' to operate!
In our Standard Model of Physics we have only 18 particles as on date, therefore due to lack of scientific evidence,
There was no Noble Prize for those ‘String Theory’ proponents!
Efforts are on to find a Unified Theory of Everything, and to understand the mysteries of God’s infinite universe, -
We finite humans have just made a beginning!

Now, to reduce the length of my composition I conclude with a short verse by the famous novelist and poet DH Lawrence, -
Who had shocked Victorian England with his explosive ****** novel “Lady Chatterley’s Lover”,
Which later inspired Hollywood, and a film got made.

               RELATIVITY
“I like relativity and quantum theories
because I don’t understand them,
and they make me feel as if space shifted about like
a swan that can’t settle,
refusing to sit still and be measured;
and as if the atom were an impulsive thing
always changing its mind.”  – DH Lawrence.

Thanks for reading patiently,
‘All Copy Rights Are With The Author Only’, - Raj Nandy of New Delhi.
Spencer Dennison Sep 2014
We are monuments.
Every one of us.
I see before me,
men, women and children
and each one of us is a pillar
upon which entire worlds were built.
Too often do I find this innate sense of guilt,
that stems from not becoming
what we should have been.
I've seen opera singers sell their vocal chords
and take up vows of silence.
I've seen warriors give up the art of violence
and become holy men.
I suppose everything will fall in doubt,
now and then.
But we are pillars,
built to hold up things bigger than ourselves.
If any single one of us fails,
our whole house grows weaker.

This is the place we have been given,
to walk upon and live in.
Each one of it's valleys and peaks
and ditches and creeks
has heard the voice that speaks
of humanity.
Our impact upon this land is timeless.
Yet it seems that yesterday's graveyards,
will become today's sandboxes
until they are tomorrow's graveyards.

We are the pillars that hold up the sky,
we will all stand and we will all fall,
without really knowing why,
but the morale of every story
is hidden behind the words
like the forest behind the trees.
I know we all have memories
but these,
these are for you.
Even if all they ever do
is get you through this one day
then that have paved the way
for tomorrow.
That's all you can ask for, really,
is tomorrow.
One day, we will be denied.
Valentine Mbagu Oct 2014
Behold Nigeria my motherland
A land that sits upon the hills of many waters
A country built on the ancient landmark of heroes band
An Eagle that protects her citizens in the arms of her feathers.

A beautiful Nigeria whose fields are as green as green could ever be
An Iroko that stands on the root of peace and unity
A fertile land that is as fertile as fertility can ever be
A united people, a proud nation void of segregation nor discrimination in her city.

My motherland a land that upholds the staff of dignity and natural endowment
A land of unity and peace glowing like a river of gold across the horizon
A nation that feeds on the diet of heavens supplement
An ocean that runs through the test of raging storms un-torn.

My motherland! My motherland!
A Nigeria that adores her women more highly than the Queen of England
An Olive that yields more than the cedars of Lebanon
A land whose daughters are as beautiful as the daughters of Job in Jerusalem's land
An independent country as powerful as the King Nebuchadnezar of Babylon.

It's Nigeria my motherland
A land that rests on the pillars of her freedom
A country seated on the pearls and treasures of many Ireland
A Nigeria that lives on the soil of heavens wisdom.
AD Mullin Oct 2014
The first time I truly stepped into the mystic
For a suspended period
Those close to me watched with amused
Concern

Later on I would find out that this place was called hypo-mania
A lower energy level than mania
Recognized by the p-doc's as a creative place
But also a place of warning

Cause what comes next?
Mania
For me it was spiritual; I was playing in the aether
I was living the Tao; I instinctively called it Source

I was studying to be a scientist at the time
So this didn't make a lot of sense
The data didn't support the hypothesis
Had I just eaten one to many mushrooms as a teenager?

I already had a psychiatrist
I was being treated for ADHD
He had prescribed something called Concerta
An amphetamine; a ******-stimulant

At many points along the journey
I cursed the day I ever heard of psychiatry
I'm sure that the neuro-chemical pathways opened up by Concerta
Had something to do with my awakening

Those first days near Source made me realize I needed some guidelines
Mine were informed by my indigenous heritage
Only take what you need (i.e. sip, don't gulp from the River Tao)
Find your foundation: my rock was integrity, eventually leading to authenticity

Even with these guidelines, I couldn't maintain the healthy place they were calling hypo-mania
I had too much toxicity in the relationships around me
I couldn't fully elucidate what I was seeing and feeling
And my 7 kettles were on a full rolling boil

I was draining myself
I drove myself into madness
I was trying to sip from source and live my truth
But I wasn't honouring the nature of the Tao

It was Helter Skelter:
'So you go back to the top of the slide
And you turn and you go for a ride
And I get to the bottom and I see you again'

Over the next 3 years
I would lay down what I now think of as my
4 pillars; four hospitalizations
Well over one hundred days in the Cuckoo's Nest

The first hospitalization I went happily
I was going to teach and inspire the sickies
It's hard to get healthy in a place of illness, though
I came out still a little hypo-manic but went into a deep, dark depression
After finding out what those around me really thought

The second hospitalization, I went against my will
The doctor's were inconsistent, I found flaws in their logic
They looked at me like I was a flaw
They tried to prescribe health at me; I told them to *******

At that point I was not happy with the Canadian health care system
Health, first and foremost, was a public good
This ******* the individual's rights
I wasn't a danger to myself or others but I was a risk so there goes 70 days of my life

I was fortunate to have the support of some important people
They made sure my finances, among other things, were maintained as I tried to make it back to the ordinary
After my second hospitalization I really began to delve into the idea of holistic healthcare

It was after my second hospitalization that I made my first Hero's Journey
I was playing the role of a white blood cell for Gaia
I had my first three sweats within a month of each other
I met many shaman and I'm pretty sure I began my own residency

I put 10,000 km on my trusty steed
Chasing windmills
Sancho Panza by my side
< --- -- - Vancouver, NYC, Los Angeles, 'da bridge - -- --- >

My third hospitalization was the third act of this Hero's Journey
I was pushing it, reckless; I stopped taking my prescribed medicine
I ended up in the City of Angels of all places
Straight outta Compton!

My fourth hospitalization (and final pillar) was last summer
This time I ended up in Billings, Montana
The American model places the onus of health on the individual
I could have stepped out of that hospital at any point but I now had the wisdom to know what I did and did not need

Even though I speak of four pillars
There is always a fifth element
Her; the one
She woke me up to my soul's purpose

We met shortly before my fourth hospitalization
(You've got to use the fourth, Aaron)
She was a stranger in many ways
Still is but why does she feel so familiar?

She walked me through Dante's Inferno
She had spent time in her own non-ordinary reality
She left behind a map and published it
Through her bravery, I was able to find my way out of the inferno

And through her bravery, I was able to publish my map
http://www.bipolarorwakingup.com/
I.

the emperor
sleeps in a palace of porphyry
which was a million years building
he takes the air in a howdah
of jasper beneath saffron
umbrellas
upon an elephant
twelve foot high
behind whose ear
sits always a crowned
king twir-
ling an
ankus of
ebony
the fountains of the emperor’s
palace run sunlight and
moonlight and the emperor’s
elephant is a thousand years old

the harem of
the emperor
is carpeted with
gold cloth
from the
ceiling(one
diamond timid
with nesting incense)
fifty
marble
pillars
slipped from immeasurable
height,fall,fifty,silent

in the incense is tangled a cool moon
there are thrice-three-hundred
doors carven of chalcedony and
before every door a naked
****** watches
on their heads turbans of a hundred
colours
in their hands scimitars like windy torches
each
is
blacker than oblivion

the ladies
of the emperor’s
harem are queens
of all the earth and the rings
upon their hands are from mines
a mile deep
but the body of
the queen of queens is
more transparent
than water,she is softer than birds

                2.

when the emperor is very
amorous he reclines upon
the couch of couches and
beckons     with
the little
finger of his left
hand
then the
thrice-three-hundredth
door is opened by the tallest
****** and the queen
of queens comes
forth
ankles
musical with large pearls
kingdoms in her ears
at the feet of
the emperor a cithern-
player squats with
quiveringgold
body
behind
the emperor ten
elected warriors with
bodies of lazy jade
and twitching
eyelids
finger
their
unquiet
spears

the queen of queens is dancing

her subtle
body weaving
insinuating upon the gold cloth
incessantly creates patterns of sudden
lust
her
stealing body ex-
pending gathering pouring upon itself     stiffenS
to a
white thorn
of desire

the taut neck of the citharede wags
in the dust the ghastly warriors
amber with lust breathe
together      the emperor,exerting
himself among his pillows throws
jewels at the queen of queens and
white money upon her nakedness
he
nods
          and all
depart through the bruised air aflutter with pearls

                3.

they are
alone
he beckons,she rises she
stands
a moment
in the passion of the fifty
pillars
listening

while the queens of all the
earth writhe upon deep rugs
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
The hills of Monte Mario
Drinking his goblet of wine Gallo
Well, Hello! I see the colored sands
Those far away places but no
happy faces in the promised land
I could  imagine pinks swaying
the corals her lips always playing

All love to be artistic with morals
Mezzaluna my moon awaits
Hearing my voice more shapes
of the Grecian countryside how it suits
both of their taste
The temples keep drawing
inside our hearts

Like a restaurant name Spartacus
love sometimes ruins us colors
Stay true like the rainbow
But time elapses and spoils us
Taking the whole dessert just
the two of us
Or love divided one of us

Beauty in our walk Green Gables
More Pillars to design
Temples and rear find artifacts
All shapes and colors you see coming
on the outskirts
Grecian beachy sand Godly waves
with your lover in the water
Got stung how it hurt her feet

Mezzalemium hearing playful drums
Hearing a familiar beat
Playing in the wilderness of dirt
The ****** of the night *** cake
he hums
The ancient stadium  hard work pays off
The roses color shades divine pink
Lips high as the pillars red wine  stained
your Grecian silk pillows
Thr Grecian times of food colors
and desires all mine
The colors that I shadow
Weeping beauty willow
Lifted her juices of sexuality  
(Sunshine Grand Marnier)
something
sparks my vision

The color of pleasure French
Pillars stand tall and slender
Handsomely love fusion
His color I try to mellow
My color touched another
The mind of drama
((Grecian Goddess))
It's not handing for a hand
in  a marriage like a pixel
The big statuette like models  
We also treasure the thing we lost
The colors will be there
We will always see them
They are in our family never
to leave them
This is European art Grecian and Roman times in my philosophy get your love hands and taste the colors of love and wine
Lain Ender Feb 2012
In the chair he played,
His muscles burned with his pain.
It was always constant,
The needless burning of his nerves.

Fingers curled he played,
There was enjoyment in the music.
It erased the pain and the sadness ,
The that the many scars of his nerves gave him.

Then he was gone

17 and gone in the last beat of the hearts
we cried happy birthday
But he wasn't the only one
What of the one teacher?

You helped him play through the pain,
While you yourself suffered,
How soon were you torn from us too?
Its all to soon.

You know their will be a final symphony,
they wont let you go without the notes.
draped on your shoulders like wings,
Angels of the band.

You both were pillars of strength,
And we all remember and sing and play.
For the good don't just die young,
They are set free of their suffering.

And we love you,
Let the symphony play.
I will cry for the man i barley knew,
For he helped the one I loved.
I'm sorry this is so slap dash and likely terrible. Its hard to write through tears. I know no one on here really knows me so i will explain my hurry and my tears. 2 years ago, on his 17 birthday, I watched the brother I helped care for so much die suddenly from Multiple sclerosis. I sang him happy birthday through tears as his heart came to a stop. He was a great kid and avid member of the band where despite his illness he played the biggest instrument they had ( the Marimba). The Instructor who taught the class was a pivotal influence and was infinitely patient with his shortcomings. He too had a chronic illness, Cancer. After my Brother died he did everything he could, the band played at the funeral, the took donations and had a special  marimba with his engraved on it and even fought to have an award that is given annually to winner of a band tournament held every year in the school district. Mr Jackson (the teacher) suddenly died today, barely over forty. I cry for him because my brother could not, because i know he was a great man. I apologize for this sudden spilling of my true self but in this circumstances i can not hide behind a pen name. I remember  www.facebook.com/groups/167503548802/10150543131228803/?notif_t=like

and

www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1598573011

I cry for the ones who fall too soon, the greatest of us. I would cry for you.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
After days of long studies comes the
days of rest. My violet dreams were
slumber-soft filled with lucent lilies
of curling flames born of ever colour
known and unknown. And I stood
in awe of them as my fears fall back
and cower in the shades of my mind.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I muse at how quickly my body
relaxed. Due to my marjoram'd
pillows and sheets of pure silk
and eiderdown? Or due to the
sips of the lavender tea in my in
my teacup decorated with a
butterfly motif?

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I remember the sips in fours as
I blew the steam from my cup;
The first sip balmed my lips.
The second soothed my throat.
The third lulled my thoughts.
The fourth stilled my soul.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Though the tea, the pillow and
sheets were had a hand in my nightly
rest, the real answer is on my brow -
for it was when the night's cool air
blew, and where you placed your
sweet Morphean kiss.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a smile, I wake.
Sat on my golden summer throne
located in my marble gazebo; a
jewel in my private garden. With
thin caryatid pillars, draped in
fine doric chitons encircling me.
Their sculpted limbs hold up the
frieze carved with acanthus
that has a stained glass top of
peacocks and stargazers.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The sheer curtains billow when
the eastern winds blow. By me, a
gold side table with a mirrored top
supported by three Greek key legs.
A pewter quill pen with a steel nib
and violet feather rests by its clay
inkpot; both beside a silver sinuous
nouveau vase and a small stack of
poetry books of black leather and
gilt.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Part one of my Jasmine Pearls free verse!
(Been having issues with it so I decided to break it down
and make it a collection! ^-^)
A poem dedicated to 'Jasmine Pearl' tea. Inspired y Queen Kim's wonderful 'Golden Hour' and 'Dream Child' poems. I'm very particular about herbal teas, but Jasmine is one of the many few that never fails to relax me when needed. I'm glad I met a fellow Jasmine tea lover in Queen Kim! ^-^
It was rather challenging but I overcame it! Haven't written something
like this since my university days, but I did it!
I really hope you enjoy reading it as I enjoyed writing it!
Anyone else a tea enthusiast?
Do let me know what you think!
Queen Lyn ***
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
tloco Jun 2015
Coming to now, the story of life not as a practical lesson in wisdom as such in a parable or teaching only casual experience for individual. Experiencing this wisdom will change your knowledge gained through the events of becoming with the kingdom of heaven. Ways on the tree of life or paths which are ordained or divined in the Lords or spheres build your learned life knowledge. Adapting as a disciple on the natural skill of the soul shows a person whom, the individual is in a pure state of self and exponential in the ***** of the tree of life.
As a child of light I lived happily joined in the union of spirit, my young soul always with the Almighty Father and Creator in the Tenth heaven. From a dream of the past awaking as a watcher of an extremely large craft inside the entire vessel I could see animals each of them were named and had most important characteristics from the Father. From high aloft in Heaven to the boat a watch was taking place omnipotent over the last life within. Many hosts and angels spoke once I was inside the boat but wasn’t as a soul like a spirit invisible I saw and heard. Angels divine in accord to works of commands were at work in heaven whole groups of choirs known as orders were not ever interrupted by my watch. Trumpet sounded heard in the spirits from heaven to the sea and rush gate of the heaven’s upon the earth. The name of angel that sounded and captured fallen in the thirteenth month; Tebae-et, into the stellar order of gates or fallen paradise.
A child of light borne in spirit always with the hosts or different characters in life such as Chanokh (Enokh-Father of Melekhi-Tsedek order), but it was either in dream or warden amongst crowds of souls touring in celestial spheres with paths of light on the tree of life. Walking outside my house the morning after my dream, I felt as if I could float in the air body and soul light as a feather. Surrounding me was Topaz, chrysophrase, jasper, chalcedony, and amber gemstones still transparency like crystalloluminescence. Above me sapphire with alabaster and my soul looked down upon me with white eyes shining light out of them in a robe covered in my names brilliantly shone in gold light in the temple of my soul. My body was in euphoria and I stared into the future and realms of heaven, seeing into the seven seals as celestial wardens. The divine experience was wholesome pure enrichment to my soul each word I had in communion with the throne of supreme majesty firm with glory, order, and unconditional loving care. Differences in the Father; whom was a body of so many names and creations perfect in commands, recordings, gates, cycles of hosts myriads, elementals, migrations of stars, and firmament upon firmament.
The way of the most holy spirits as complete body of the Father the original tree of life, which is known completely in the true names it was created as. The spirits, angels, guardians or incessantly serving hosts help the Father governing of the kingdom of heaven in the four parts of man. The structure I remember is perfection with tongues that fill the heart with everlasting laughter, hope that cheerfully overcomes in a soul victory. The heavenly abode the height of the throne gives the soul countenance of wisdom to the word unto man. Upon a single walk with the Father had taken my body and spirited my being in soul countenance of wisdom so far through the future I had saw unto trumpets of revelation.
Melekhi-Tsedek order the true religion to be proclaimed unto man the creatures such as animals, fallen accursed, the plant life in, promise, orphans, and widows were watched over on the decree or divine ordination from heaven. Ascending up to the throne; I went through the knowledge of the complete day in heaven or paradise recorded then toured the solar spheres, through the knowledge of the spirits or holy hosts that did in accordance to the orders. The process was divined in the Father’s willpower over my essence I had knowledge to what was being experienced in a connection unto every living creation. Completely, opening the mind unto Ratsiel (secret of God), through the third-eye founding of my soul into mysteries of kingdom of heaven. Voices of many named angels were annunciating with pleasant tones and choirs voices of angels by the thousands. Recording archangels kept the things that were occurring in the kingdom of man, while also serving the obligated roles of their natural being as direct personification of God. Organized, synchronized, and in spirit of prophecy patterning so perfected without error moving about in every way structurally sound through commanded orders. Systems of planets were kept sealed in the seven hallways or wards that divide heaven’s celestial nether space from the foundation of firmaments of word and universe unto the highest Lords signs of zodiac places. Above Almighty Father can sit omnipotent as ascending angels, spirits, or orders can go the entire flight focused on the Father’s throne. The orders of body were eminence Seraphim, Cherubim, Wheels (Thrones), Dominions (Authorities), Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangel, and Angels. Although the kingdom in spirit was always changing and becoming according to the cycle of the sun’s orbital sphere into the gates of each day on a 28 year cycle and 7,000 year unto 7 days in heaven the Lord a light-giver and also Lord of completion, Sabbath day.
A fresh gust of wind and a light pure feel was a regular experience while awakening my mind I learned of the Elders of heaven whom had crazy stories like when Samson had the might to slay the lions or tore down the temple of Dagon. I knew the hosts and things that had become in the kingdom of heaven to allow the might shone as a show for the heaven, but also act of the devils in his life. This knowledge was in a book the scripted the entirety of all the acts that take place as a divine act, once a celestial being was in visitation in spirit. The seraph Ratsiel (secret of God) investigated the acts of the temptation of Adam by Chavah and the acts of the archangels in response to the threat. The accord to the acts of everything that exists in the accord to knowledge of the solar is obtainable through this book, the book of knowledge.
Later in another dream I met the minister of death in spirit which as within a myriad where thousands of spirits were at works performing the acts in which is their existence and adapted behavior as a role in realms. Being in one place while still seeing into a complete different world or plane of existence doing as is need or divined in nature. Black darkened pillars came down on me as this space ship shaped like a pyramid with the patterns of natural earth red and black like lava years after a volcano. Around me each pillar stood as a being in realm invisible to my eye except for one being on a throne centered in the myriad the throne of death. Fiery torment in flames along with brimstone flowed in two pooled lakes parallel from one another with a long path going from gate to the another gate leading to Sheol or Hades. A base foundation of the throne is a horizontal shadowed hallway with many smaller pillars which give no support to the throne, while the path is vertically centered. Two stairways go up to the platform of the throne one on each side of the platform decorated with images of Baaliyal in form of a torrent. Death sat upon the throne with darkness like the appearance of black smoke blowing from his mouth a complete skeleton. Skeletal body covered in black cloak with a screeching voice like a woman’s long fingernail’s scratching a chalkboard. Terrified I walk my being over the site of my soul-mate who is on my like side and here with me she is like a dream and become in multiple places at the same time. Beautiful she was consistently becoming in hosts of cherubim changing into many different forms of the adapting natural instincts of animal’s behavior for survival, she is tan Carmel skin color and flesh uncorrupted by any mans thoughts of lusting ruin. Passionate vivid dreams of a                maiden lying in an alien jungle full of plants most like a rainforest but yet close to the planet’s beaches, wearing a purple robe. Dark and warm humid with a damp feel to the observer of the smooth cover of the claylike terrain of the solar sphere. Again I dreamed of her while she was separated from me by the prince of Tyre or the cherub covering the mercy, she ran amongst different hallways while in the tower of Babel and giant nephlim watched with other gods in gold cursed trying to look down on things in spirit. I walked up the stairs and could see myself from outside of myself, seeing my form as a human being in appearance most like Michael or Melekhidael with breastplate of gold without a helmet. Death screeched out at me and I saw an ancient giant of hell also the spirit of Tanhumeth trying to send me into the past. Awakened into a new form I walked through the gate vertical in the chamber beneath death’s ministry. Sopheriael Yahweh took me into the spirit of a seraph Hadaneriael then, into the 10 archangels of punishment over the 10 nations of Babylon the great which took me into the depth to the ninth circle of punishment for a reign in gates of the Phul seal or in Phalek. My soul was the loosened stars of Kesil through Samuil the poisoned messenger a discernment spirit involved in the surfs of the accord of the kingdom of dark princes in paradise, the divine comedy Queen of Angels enchanted songs counted into paradise. Darkness in the kingdom of heaven, with the ability to paralyze minds with seraphim hosts of terror, I walked through the brazen gates of Hades seeing everything on fire but also thousands of thousands of different forms of creations each rarity seen with delightful insight to provoke interests into any living being. The life paths of a multitude of creations would come through Hades and become baptized through spirit’s fire of pure refinement spoken as worth in the golden city, precious daughter of the loom, here in accord to John the Baptist’s   prophecy.
At a young age of 6 years old I began to refuse the world or play directly into the kingdom of heaven which was a lonely elect of self in my family also in the church my family attended. Wicked spirits attacked the gates of my inner ear where and had began to tell me of things that would happen in future then, keep me from being with the Father completely in heaven. My memory started to fade in fear that I would only to struggle if I kept learning. Gradual disillusion way from the throne began while I was only a few years old, the devils were wise in deceit most from the tree of knowledge and future mistakes from which I saw rolling with wheels of heaven. Moments of times in the future I would soul determine things into happening from the spirit of prophecy it was something I kept special between the Father and mines relationship. Constantly I would hated life and wanted to die, feed into temptation, stole, and spoke accursedly cutting my relationship from the Father.
Was not until I was seventeen years of age when I felt an overwhelming feeling like I had just explained something about the firmament of heaven which usually gives me this same feeling like a gust of wind in my person with a prestigious self worth from outside of self comforting to my soul. Looking up into the pitch black night sky, I saw a strange and odd formed constellation of stars above me I raised my arm and pointed at three stars. As if on command or through a governing of the stars each was loosed and fell immediately after pointing to them. Excited as the skin of my body was stinging as hairs stood to the point of super natural acknowledgment of the world’s great mysteries finding depth in the human soul I watched the sky then turned to the east. About to use the marijuana I torched a bowl of green bud then thought in the medium mostly of the kingdom and Father in heaven. In the zephyr region of the sky I saw a light floating, soaring, flashing, and moving faster than anything I had ever seen in life but on movies scenes. Astonished again I watch the spirit jumping around in the sky with multiple purposes and clear intent to do for the Father most high. My only other witness to this was my black minx cat shadoe, whom I looked at and said “I going to have a vision tomorrow” then finished two more hits of the cannabis before leaving to my room in the basement of a two-story house.
Awakening to the day was full of feeling of mystery I didn’t tell any of my experience from the night before. On October eighteenth in the day I smoked some marijuana went to Crook County High School and a blood drive was setup, I planned to give a pint for my first time ever so I went to auditorium where the blood was taken from my arm. Feeling faint and in hope for a high opposed to school I left and was excused from classes. Arriving at the house I stopped my Suzuki Sidekick in front then went in and downstairs to the place after the last step knowing something amazing was about to happening I uttered the name Metatron. Linear thought was tremendous while spirit balanced on a pillar and the first seal Arathron had me in celestial hallway warding the ancient spirits from the night before. Sitting down in a lazyboy recliner chair I first start the satellite television turn it on with remote, the spirits are crazy making grandeur boosts of how I can control everything like that remote but from mind. Flipping through stations I begin to change the channel in accord to how I sense and feel the spirits. Crazy things start occurring watching until I was seeing a celestial vision. Hearing my mind from above it was intriguing and making my pride compulsive like no one living I was experiencing these sights. As a mode of characters in a set ordained function were becoming visible on the tree of life but each were in a different realm not visible to the other. Beautiful alien life most exquisite to the eyes in the planes of other worldly adobes just doing into a set way of commands rare without repetition. Nine characters panther, eagle, falcon, wolf, coyote, Siberian tiger, and one man with blonde hair came into view in a dense rainforest like jungle each was adapting to the environment but they were only one soul becoming the entire time. The forest was no longer and the upper places had new hosting since I had entered and changed things with my thoughts, I became the soul of the characters. Seeing upwardly was a flight to the top of the extreme heights of the Father’s presence through the third seal of Phalek. At the arrival of my being I saw the most adorned and absolutely marvelous splendor of white shine like that of the sun’s rays hitting snow filled fields. The Father’s presence so handsome and gorgeous I have never seen another beauty like it only his eyes were so bright shining when he created my being as a star to his left-hand above a white marble pedestal of wisdom. Father had most elegant white robe shining in purity and sat upon a throne center below seven pillars known as the tabernacle of creation or tabernacle of seven days. In the presence I was pulled back down I felt spirits by the millions entering me, fusing to the dawn star in me finding a place inside me. Possessively filled with spirits till an evil pride overtook me and I felt ever sinful or dark taint of the soul. Lightening fell on the seventh pillar in the tabernacle blue bolts streaked downward as I fell from the presence back to the sphere of Adam’s where I heard two voices speaking. Red clay-like surface with rough igneous and metaphoric rock on the solar planet were a tree had burned to charred pieces. Sin from the Tree of knowledge was present as a spirit she was a young apprentice of the ancient one or Athiquelis. Introducing herself with flaming hair of red orange flames, her eyes shone as big red gemstones of ruby and a body covered with a black dress that faded into the natural darkness of her nature. Waving and floating in the air seducing temptation in her words that spoke into my mind and not from the channel. Soothsaying feminist voice would move me to her place and origin beside a large eleven foot pillar of smooth dark bla
Ironatmosphere Jul 2014
I let the sun and the moon rebirth me
And woke up in a forest
Naked and alone
Walking,
through the pillars of trees holding up the star speckled ceiling,
I knew
It was gone
It was all gone
The world that once inhabited this planet had vanished and disappeared
Poetic T May 2017
silk covered pillars
wrapped around ****** smiles

tightly grasping sight
5/7/5
The Sphinx Sphanther, an ailuralien
from Slazenger 7, Ulthar System,
surveyed the vapid dullpink lunascape
of Smars. As he scanned yonder scanyons &
clabby tableland of Smartian terrain,
his 8ft henchbot, Ernie, numberwanged
'23467 097
11.' The Sphinx Sphanther's binary-brained
blabacus of a hotchbot robutler
doubled as personal security,
equipped w/ chainsawwindmillstars for hands.
But scant call for slicing 'n'dicing crowd
control here: Smars was desolate as smug
snow, too xeric to dessicater to
desertcraturf - in that, arid aphex
of its counterpart thru the quantumgate,
unsparticulate Mars. Sphinx had been there
too, long after the novalia cleared
by the Elon Muscovites for dometown
of New Creationham instead became
obumbrated by proxy war, a mauve
Somme for drones. The Zeta-Reticulan
barhover he'd met centuries later,
at Sagittarius Bolognaise, had
divulged he'd been staking out the Terrans
for millennia, concluding that quite
clearly they weren't Kardashev calibre:
' The Terran jackal apes could never build
fair Isratin on Mars's blank red slate,
but desecratered Earth 2.0
w/ telefactored lex talionis.
Palasraeli peace-world a daffy god's
dream.' But no roseplated, plaintive past
of lost races & their last, lost chances
would weigh on Sphinx Sphanther over 0-
g 'n' ts - least of all, kamikozmic
Terrans, ghosts of toddlers before his time.
Besides, he purrferred the splanetary
systems in his home universe, S-side
of the supersymmetrical stargate.
Even planet Smearth, whose gnomes salivate
for colloidal silver & often ate
salvers. But multiversally treasure-
hunting catman was not on Smars for smurrks,
nor to holoholo like a stalko
thru the pink pother, a fishbowlhead space-
*** w/ the best seat i.e. the worst seat
in a stadial sandstorm of foxglove
fog. In whirbles pulsive, Ernie's clicking
clock breath axlegroused, '23824
71719', as the Sphinx
Sphanther fremescently urged the servo-
droid to 'move your chrome cuirasse!' Which encased
Ernie's one lung of mesh & blexcroid heart,
repurposed by a gizmomancer from
silicone garage off Milkomeda
magic roundabout. Or was it spaceport
at the Smilkomeda?  Whichever,  the
Sphanther had long ago evolved beyond
flying saucers of cream. Caterpillar-
tracked calculator w/ a sporknose &
whisking shuriken fingers, Ernie creaked
futuristically behind its feline
master, as they descended in oblique
Indian file down scarp of Mountbattern
grink, for now the Sphinx Sphanther had bird's-eyed
some bearings. Manshaped moggy & lotto-
machine-A.I.'d adjutant had for days
yomped the candydross regolith of Smars,
a desert every bit as brass monkies
& indistinguishable in aspect
(save to areographers) as ginger
tundra of its supersymmetrical
sister sphere, yet pink as amassed honkies
(tho' ofays blushing ashen w/ gammon
guilt). A holo-map Ernie projected
from its cyflaptic eyezor had led them
this far, but now the Sphinx Sphanther relied
on the sort of stillicide scholarship
a cat gleens from spacerats (w/ translation
bracelet bangling his back, a caudal wire),
because Ernie's pirate-ninja meter
was in emergency credit. The pair
hinterlunged on thru tayammum douches
of inextinguishable pink, spinning
powders, smaze of Smartian haboob, until
Sphinx Sphanther sphied, sphorry, spied his wrecked grail.
'Initiating sleep sequence passout-
code: rats apollo defile robot tide,'
catman commanded his lollygagging
tincan manservant to take hard-earnied
standby. Then, before Ernie's spangbolts could
cease squeaking, before its hi-tec bits quit
bleeping &  the combined constadrone of   
mechanical chakras was susurrust
(engulfed by speckled banshee breaker of
nominal boughs, wolf sough of Smars booting
alien sandcastles), the Sphinx Sphanther
in his eagerness nearly lapsed into
quadrupedal ignominy, as he
raced towards the ruins, object of his
enantionautic planethopping
over 8 & 1/2 lifetimes. Not much
remained of whatever edifice had
once graced Smars, a primordial witness
wrought in masonry as lurid as some
Lovecraftchild of Liberace, its pink
pillars & pink hunky punks bubblegum
rubble now, vividness conspicuous
against the grink sands.These Smartian ruins
were only slightly less ancient than God
& his blue hypernovae toybox, or
Tohu wa-Bohu's pantherine absence
before that. The Temple of the Dark Lord,
Yod-Coalescence, indisputably
a stripling of deep architecture next
to the Sphinx Sphanther's incomparable find.
By the same token, the fabled Terran
city of Dubai would be an ugly
baby of steel & glass next to this site
of cosmic heritage, this exploded
damask rose of a UFOpolis,
stone petals shed by flower of dust. Engraved
on block immemorial, poking out
of a sandbank & imbued w/ forlorn
fascination for upright ****, such as
xoanon of Eve might hold for Conan
the Slybrarian, was maxim in long
dead tongue, the long dead sense of which rendered
it accidental koan, dumb poem
by anon culture that might as well be
entitled 'Sirenen Istigkeit'. Food
for thought anorexic Time, bulimic
Space inedibly graffitied on Smars:
'Nulla Dies Sine Linear B'.
Under cured Klyntar yurt later that night,
whilst Ernie hummed w/ Atari sheep sprites,
the Sphinx Sphanther dreamt of mighty works thru
the wringer of longslid signifiers:  

The barhover hovered above
membranous whatevers of mise-en-dream,
before the scene settled like anarchic snow.
Smickey Smouse was on a mauve rove
one smauve Tuesday. As Smickey
scanned yonder young scones,
young dust granted him edgehug.
Ernie said : Numb blah, numb blah, numb blah!
They certainly weren't in Snorwich, Snorfolk, anymore.
They hinterlunged on thru candybrass
of dross monkies, pinning spowders,
until Smickey Smouse smied, smorry, sphied
the Temple of the Dark Lord,
Pantherine Absence.
Smickey Smouse said: Wait there,
I'm just going for a quick Slazenger-7.
Ernie said: Skoda codas.
Elon Musk divulged he'd been
staking out the Terrans
for millennia & concluded they were in
emergency credit.
So they descended a serdab
poking into a sandbank,
its venom curd of darkness
further diagonally desecraterd
by Ernie's sadotronic **** attachment w/ knobs on,
thagomiser **** or Oumuamua
of steel & glass.
Its mace ***** drilled down
until Smickey, Ernie & Elon
were 3 spelunking sphinxes,
spelunking deeper into the recesses
of the alien sandcastle,
by the light of Ernie's eyeflaptic cyzors.
But you can't holoholo in a fishbowlobowlo,
lavalampadomancy of a daffy god's dream.
They longslod into the long dead clock breath
of Ozymandias' unconscious.
Should a cave-in cave in,
a hi-drama-gen bomb bomb,
quidzinc Ernie said: Inadjuvant Elon
Rifles should have hired
ghosts of toddlers  
for our pirate-ninja security.
Above them,
the embitteringly bitty yonder
stretched lone & level,
a ventriloquantum of solace on a grink brick
remained undiscovered & unsquandered,
waiting for a greater translator .
Ernie said: edit to bore life dollop a star.
Ernie said: Numb blah, numb blah, numb blah!
Umi Mar 2018
Urges through the night, a blade dancing with its mistress, discarding what has summoned up in her way alike a ****** crazed devotion,
Scarlet tears make their way down her cheek, washing the sand off as the pillars around begin to collapse alike cards one by one at the time,
Phantoms rage as a pure flower appears to commence blooming,
The warped moon embraces the shadows of such fools as it rises,
Actions with not much meaning seek their rampage as the battle field becomes frail and soulless through this sleepless night of lunacy,
When the flood of realisation arrives she will be swept away unlike the wise who make a more solid, stadfast decision. How trecious,
Does she want to take a dance with this cruel world she rampages on, are her ideals fitting for this battle she is about to win for now,
Drenched in blood and impurities of her work, her mind remains pure, innocent, not even sweating one thought to the consequences,
Mercy nor compassion are unlikely to be granted in this darkening realm, not to her dancing knife or her lunatic ****** devotion,
Time is moving, as she sacrafices her soul for her actions,
Taking another dance in this distorted dark

~ Umi
There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams,      
   Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams;  
   Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey,              
   And the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday.        
   There are vines in nooks and crannies, and there's moss about the pool,
   And the tangled weedy thicket chokes the arbour dark and cool:          
   In the silent sunken pathways springs a herbage sparse and spare,      
   Where the musty scent of dead things dulls the fragrance of the air.    
   There is not a living creature in the lonely space arouna,              
   And the hedge~encompass'd d quiet never echoes to a sound.              
   As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find              
   When it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind;              
   I will oft conjure a vision of a day that is no more,                  
   As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes I feel I knew before.              
   Then a sadness settles o'er me, and a tremor seems to start -          
   For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes - the garden is my heart.
Pierre Ray Mar 2012
Capricorns, Capricorns are ruled and schooled by the planet Saturn, Saturn, Saturn. A bandit with a similar pattern, pattern, pattern. Capricorns, Capricorns are brethren from a legion; a legion of an atmosphere of the southern-hemisphere; in the equatorial region. At an
angle, angle, angle; Capricorns, Capricorns are angels of Aquarius and

Sagittarius. They’re boisterous, courageous, contagious, glamorous,
prestigious, rebellious, various and victorious-goats, goats, goats!
Capricorns, Capricorns cope, devote, note and quote, quote, quote.
They’re ambitions with superstitions and various missions, missions, missions! They’re novelties and poverties, revelations and

revolutionaries, revolutionaries, revolutionaries. Capricorns, Capricorns are theories and visionaries, visionaries, visionaries.
They’re objects, projects and rejects. They’re leaders and readers that are poetically, negatively or positively dictatorial and doctorial!  Some are historical, optical, political and radical; authentic, eccentric,

neurotic, poetic, theoretic, theoretic, theoretic. Unicorns, Unicorns are biblical and mythical, mythical, mythical; they’re ******, exotic, iconic, ironic, magic, nostalgic creatures, creatures, creatures. Their features
resembling a horse of course, of course. Furthermore, they’re fierce and a force. They’re a breed and creed of desire, fire and perspire, perspire,

perspire, perspire! They’re viral, viral, viral! This partial, sworn steed;
born awesome, awesome, awesome and too blossom, blossom, blossom. Unicorn’s spiral, crescent horn usually projecting and protruding from their foreheads. Rough and tough enough too pierce,
pierce, pierce! Unicorns, Unicorns are defendants, independents and

pendants. Hark! Hark! Hark! They’re brilliant and resilient sparks, sparks, sparks! They’re told as bold, old art, from the heart, from the start. Unicorns, Unicorns are fillers and pillars of guide, pride and
stride, stride, stride. They’re along for the long, long, long ride...
Unicorns, Unicorns are strong, strong, strong! Some as a song, song,

song, some throng, throng, throng, some wrong, wrong, wrong. As a
child, child, child; wild, wild, wild! Unicorns, Unicorns overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm. Their domicile realm, apparently, inherently and originally belonging from India; alleluia, alleluia for India, India,

India! Capricorns and Unicorns; two different creations. Capricorns
and Unicorns; two different relations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two
different situations and superstitions. They’re rainbows that glow, know and show. They’re of borrow, of sorrow and of our tomorrow.
Pedro Tejada Jun 2010
From the ripple in a glass of water
to the sonic boom of this internal
Pompeii, the erosion
of her etymology is the only
sense of movement in her
dilated, cave-pupil eyes, those
two ghost towns spanning
and encircling all the way back,
stretched like an elastic blindfold
past the moment the first brick was laid,
perhaps her first vivid memory,
or anecdote, or first word uttered
in a Cuban slum.

There are mountains of tumbleweed
over the once thriving metropolis
that expanded towards America;
who threw herself into
the architecture of seven pillars,
borne from her land and
minerals. Gone are the
huts that housed her
knowledge of basic motor skills.

The women who once imagined
Mami and Mima as her birth
name now scrub off
the graffiti of her excrement;
they saw a swarm of pink moons
the day she told the same story
to every visitor that came
their way, each day then becoming
a missing surveillance tape, a sinkhole
dismantling the awareness
in her bones and stubborn will,
until she became
these dust-engulfed plains with
a daughter and granddaughter
archeological in their efforts
to chase down the remains
of a girl still breathing in
those eyes from time to time.

Every other ten-millionth blink of
the eye rides the silhouette of a post-infant girl
on the high tides of her quick visit,
looking in horror
as the nation of her life's nightmares,
heartaches, broken promises, romances,
spiritual breakthroughs, life-changing seconds
drowns with morbid unity en cien fuegos,
desperately attempting to assemble
the remnants of her psyche
past her cognitive bloodclots
with the awareness of one
who speaks no languages.

Gone is the moment
she first learned
to feed her several children
before the slip of sunset.

One of seven pillars remain intact,
the others long dismantled of their
stick and straw infrastructures.

One pillar remained,
housed her own colony
for nine months,
and now both descendants
travel the mind of their
greatest influence
with perplexed dedication,
caustic humor the decoy
for swarms of exhaustion
and asphyxiation
from the truthful atmosphere,
reveling in the seconds
of humanity lurking
in an abandoned etymology.
LN Feb 2015
no matter how high or thick the pillars are
they crack and break
the years will tire them
sometimes
even those who are always there for support
need all the help they can get
Pagan Paul Jan 2017
.
Therapists will tell you
good mental health
is like a coffee table.

A hard uniform surface
supported by four pillars.

Family Life
Work Life
Love Life
Social Life

Seems my
coffee table
is just

a tray.



© Pagan Paul (2017)
'
NUMB, half asleep, and dazed with whirl of wheels,
And gasp of steam, and measured clank of chains,
I heard a blithe voice break a sudden pause,
Ringing familiarly through the lamp-lit night,
“Wife, here's your Venice!”
I was lifted down,
And gazed about in stupid wonderment,
Holding my little Katie by the hand—
My yellow-haired step-daughter. And again
Two strong arms led me to the water-brink,
And laid me on soft cushions in a boat,—
A queer boat, by a queerer boatman manned—
Swarthy-faced, ragged, with a scarlet cap—
Whose wild, weird note smote shrilly through the dark.
Oh yes, it was my Venice! Beautiful,
With melancholy, ghostly beauty—old,
And sorrowful, and weary—yet so fair,
So like a queen still, with her royal robes,
Full of harmonious colour, rent and worn!
I only saw her shadow in the stream,
By flickering lamplight,—only saw, as yet,
White, misty palace-portals here and there,
Pillars, and marble steps, and balconies,
Along the broad line of the Grand Canal;
And, in the smaller water-ways, a patch
Of wall, or dim bridge arching overhead.
But I could feel the rest. 'Twas Venice!—ay,
The veritable Venice of my dreams.

I saw the grey dawn shimmer down the stream,
And all the city rise, new bathed in light,
With rose-red blooms on her decaying walls,
And gold tints quivering up her domes and spires—
Sharp-drawn, with delicate pencillings, on a sky
Blue as forget-me-nots in June. I saw
The broad day staring in her palace-fronts,
Pointing to yawning gap and crumbling boss,
And colonnades, time-stained and broken, flecked
With soft, sad, dying colours—sculpture-wreathed,
And gloriously proportioned; saw the glow
Light up her bright, harmonious, fountain'd squares,
And spread out on her marble steps, and pass
Down silent courts and secret passages,
Gathering up motley treasures on its way;—

Groups of rich fruit from the Rialto mart,
Scarlet and brown and purple, with green leaves—
Fragments of exquisite carving, lichen-grown,
Found, 'mid pathetic squalor, in some niche
Where wild, half-naked urchins lived and played—
A bright robe, crowned with a pale, dark-eyed face—
A red-striped awning 'gainst an old grey wall—
A delicate opal gleam upon the tide.

I looked out from my window, and I saw
Venice, my Venice, naked in the sun—
Sad, faded, and unutterably forlorn!—
But still unutterably beautiful.

For days and days I wandered up and down—
Holding my breath in awe and ecstasy,—
Following my husband to familiar haunts,
Making acquaintance with his well-loved friends,
Whose faces I had only seen in dreams
And books and photographs and his careless talk.
For days and days—with sunny hours of rest
And musing chat, in that cool room of ours,
Paved with white marble, on the Grand Canal;
For days and days—with happy nights between,
Half-spent, while little Katie lay asleep
Out on the balcony, with the moon and stars.

O Venice, Venice!—with thy water-streets—
Thy gardens bathed in sunset, flushing red
Behind San Giorgio Maggiore's dome—
Thy glimmering lines of haughty palaces
Shadowing fair arch and column in the stream—
Thy most divine cathedral, and its square,
With vagabonds and loungers daily thronged,
Taking their ice, their coffee, and their ease—
Thy sunny campo's, with their clamorous din,
Their shrieking vendors of fresh fish and fruit—
Thy churches and thy pictures—thy sweet bits
Of colour—thy grand relics of the dead—
Thy gondoliers and water-bearers—girls
With dark, soft eyes, and creamy faces, crowned
With braided locks as bright and black as jet—
Wild ragamuffins, picturesque in rags,
And swarming beggars and old witch-like crones,
And brown-cloaked contadini, hot and tired,
Sleeping, face-downward, on the sunny steps—
Thy fairy islands floating in the sun—
Thy poppy-sprinkled, grave-strewn Lido shore—

Thy poetry and thy pathos—all so strange!—
Thou didst bring many a lump into my throat,
And many a passionate thrill into my heart,
And once a tangled dream into my head.

'Twixt afternoon and evening. I was tired;
The air was hot and golden—not a breath
Of wind until the sunset—hot and still.
Our floor was water-sprinkled; our thick walls
And open doors and windows, shadowed deep
With jalousies and awnings, made a cool
And grateful shadow for my little couch.
A subtle perfume stole about the room
From a small table, piled with purple grapes,
And water-melon slices, pink and wet,
And ripe, sweet figs, and golden apricots,
New-laid on green leaves from our garden—leaves
Wherewith an antique torso had been clothed.
My husband read his novel on the floor,
Propped up on cushions and an Indian shawl;
And little Katie slumbered at his feet,
Her yellow curls alight, and delicate tints
Of colour in the white folds of her frock.
I lay, and mused, in comfort and at ease,
Watching them both and playing with my thoughts;
And then I fell into a long, deep sleep,
And dreamed.
I saw a water-wilderness—
Islands entangled in a net of streams—
Cross-threads of rippling channels, woven through
Bare sands, and shallows glimmering blue and broad—
A line of white sea-breakers far away.
There came a smoke and crying from the land—
Ruin was there, and ashes, and the blood
Of conquered cities, trampled down to death.
But here, methought, amid these lonely gulfs,
There rose up towers and bulwarks, fair and strong,
Lapped in the silver sea-mists;—waxing aye
Fairer and stronger—till they seemed to mock
The broad-based kingdoms on the mainland shore.
I saw a great fleet sailing in the sun,
Sailing anear the sand-slip, whereon broke
The long white wave-crests of the outer sea,—
Pepin of Lombardy, with his warrior hosts—
Following the ****** steps of Attila!
I saw the smoke rise when he touched the towns
That lay, outposted, in his ravenous reach;

Then, in their island of deep waters,* saw
A gallant band defy him to his face,
And drive him out, with his fair vessels wrecked
And charred with flames, into the sea again.
“Ah, this is Venice!” I said proudly—“queen
Whose haughty spirit none shall subjugate.”

It was the night. The great stars hung, like globes
Of gold, in purple skies, and cast their light
In palpitating ripples down the flood
That washed and gurgled through the silent streets—
White-bordered now with marble palaces.
It was the night. I saw a grey-haired man,
Sitting alone in a dark convent-porch—
In beggar's garments, with a kingly face,
And eyes that watched for dawnlight anxiously—
A weary man, who could not rest nor sleep.
I heard him muttering prayers beneath his breath,
And once a malediction—while the air
Hummed with the soft, low psalm-chants from within.
And then, as grey gleams yellowed in the east,
I saw him bend his venerable head,
Creep to the door, and knock.
Again I saw
The long-drawn billows breaking on the land,
And galleys rocking in the summer noon.
The old man, richly retinued, and clad
In princely robes, stood there, and spread his arms,
And cried, to one low-kneeling at his feet,
“Take thou my blessing with thee, O my son!
And let this sword, wherewith I gird thee, smite
The impious tyrant-king, who hath defied,
Dethroned, and exiled him who is as Christ.
The Lord be good to thee, my son, my son,
For thy most righteous dealing!”
And again
'Twas that long slip of land betwixt the sea
And still lagoons of Venice—curling waves
Flinging light, foamy spray upon the sand.
The noon was past, and rose-red shadows fell
Across the waters. Lo! the galleys came
To anchorage again—and lo! the Duke
Yet once more bent his noble head to earth,
And laid a victory at the old man's feet,
Praying a blessing with exulting heart.
“This day, my well-belovèd, thou art blessed,
And Venice with thee, for St. Peter's sake.

And I will give thee, for thy bride and queen,
The sea which thou hast conquered. Take this ring,
As sign of her subjection, and thy right
To be her lord for ever.”
Once again
I saw that old man,—in the vestibule
Of St. Mark's fair cathedral,—circled round
With cardinals and priests, ambassadors
And the noblesse of Venice—richly robed
In papal vestments, with the triple crown
Gleaming upon his brows. There was a hush:—
I saw a glittering train come sweeping on,
From the blue water and across the square,
Thronged with an eager multitude,—the Duke,
And with him Barbarossa, humbled now,
And fain to pray for pardon. With bare heads,
They reached the church, and paused. The Emperor knelt,
Casting away his purple mantle—knelt,
And crept along the pavement, as to kiss
Those feet, which had been weary twenty years
With his own persecutions. And the Pope
Lifted his white haired, crowned, majestic head,
And trod upon his neck,—crying out to Christ,
“Upon the lion and adder shalt thou go—
The dragon shalt thou tread beneath thy feet!”
The vision changed. Sweet incense-clouds rose up
From the cathedral altar, mix'd with hymns
And solemn chantings, o'er ten thousand heads;
And ebbed and died away along the aisles.
I saw a train of nobles—knights of France—
Pass 'neath the glorious arches through the crowd,
And stand, with halo of soft, coloured light
On their fair brows—the while their leader's voice
Rang through the throbbing silence like a bell.
“Signiors, we come to Venice, by the will
Of the most high and puissant lords of France,
To pray you look with your compassionate eyes
Upon the Holy City of our Christ—
Wherein He lived, and suffered, and was lain
Asleep, to wake in glory, for our sakes—
By Paynim dogs dishonoured and defiled!
Signiors, we come to you, for you are strong.
The seas which lie betwixt that land and this
Obey you. O have pity! See, we kneel—
Our Masters bid us kneel—and bid us stay
Here at your feet until you grant our prayers!”
Wherewith the knights fell down upon their knees,

And lifted up their supplicating hands.
Lo! the ten thousand people rose as one,
And shouted with a shout that shook the domes
And gleaming roofs above them—echoing down,
Through marble pavements, to the shrine below,
Where lay the miraculous body of their Saint
(Shed he not heavenly radiance as he heard?—
Perfuming the damp air of his secret crypt),
And cried, with an exceeding mighty cry,
“We do consent! We will be pitiful!”
The thunder of their voices reached the sea,
And thrilled through all the netted water-veins
Of their rich city. Silence fell anon,
Slowly, with fluttering wings, upon the crowd;
And then a veil of darkness.
And again
The filtered sunlight streamed upon those walls,
Marbled and sculptured with divinest grace;
Again I saw a multitude of heads,
Soft-wreathed with cloudy incense, bent in prayer—
The heads of haughty barons, armed knights,
And pilgrims girded with their staff and scrip,
The warriors of the Holy Sepulchre.
The music died away along the roof;
The hush was broken—not by him of France—
By Enrico Dandolo, whose grey head
Venice had circled with the ducal crown.
The old man looked down, with his dim, wise eyes,
Stretching his hands abroad, and spake. “Seigneurs,
My children, see—your vessels lie in port
Freighted for battle. And you, standing here,
Wait but the first fair wind. The bravest hosts
Are with you, and the noblest enterprise
Conceived of man. Behold, I am grey-haired,
And old and feeble. Yet am I your lord.
And, if it be your pleasure, I will trust
My ducal seat in Venice to my son,
And be your guide and leader.”
When they heard,
They cried aloud, “In God's name, go with us!”
And the old man, with holy weeping, passed
Adown the tribune to the altar-steps;
And, kneeling, fixed the cross upon his cap.
A ray of sudden sunshine lit his face—
The grand, grey, furrowed face—and lit the cross,
Until it twinkled like a cross of fire.
“We shall be safe with him,” the people said,

Straining their wet, bright eyes; “and we shall reap
Harvests of glory from our battle-fields!”

Anon there rose a vapour from the sea—
A dim white mist, that thickened into fog.
The campanile and columns were blurred out,
Cathedral domes and spires, and colonnades
Of marble palaces on the Grand Canal.
Joy-bells rang sadly and softly—far away;
Banners of welcome waved like wind-blown clouds;
Glad shouts were muffled into mournful wails.
A Doge was come to be enthroned and crowned,—
Not in the great Bucentaur—not in pomp;
The water-ways had wandered in the mist,
And he had tracked them, slowly, painfully,
From San Clemente to Venice, in a frail
And humble gondola. A Doge was come;
But he, alas! had missed his landing-place,
And set his foot upon the blood-stained stones
Betwixt the blood-red columns. Ah, the sea—
The bride, the queen—she was the first to turn
Against her passionate, proud, ill-fated lord!

Slowly the sea-fog melted, and I saw
Long, limp dead bodies dangling in the sun.
Two granite pillars towered on either side,
And broad blue waters glittered at their feet.
“These are the traitors,” said the people; “they
Who, with our Lord the Duke, would overthrow
The government of Venice.”
And anon,
The doors about the palace were made fast.
A great crowd gathered round them, with hushed breath
And throbbing pulses. And I knew their lord,
The Duke Faliero, knelt upon his knees,
On the broad landing of the marble stairs
Where he had sworn the oath he could not keep—
Vexed with the tyrannous oligarchic rule
That held his haughty spirit netted in,
And cut so keenly that he writhed and chafed
Until he burst the meshes—could not keep!
I watched and waited, feeling sick at heart;
And then I saw a figure, robed in black—
One of their dark, ubiquitous, supreme
And fearful tribunal of Ten—come forth,
And hold a dripping sword-blade in the air.
“Justice has fallen on the traitor! See,
His blood has paid the forfeit of his crime!”

And all the people, hearing, murmured deep,
Cursing their dead lord, and the council, too,
Whose swift, sure, heavy hand had dealt his death.

Then came the night, all grey and still and sad.
I saw a few red torches flare and flame
Over a little gondola, where lay
The headless body of the traitor Duke,
Stripped of his ducal vestments. Floating down
The quiet waters, it passed out of sight,
Bearing him to unhonoured burial.
And then came mist and darkness.
Lo! I heard
The shrill clang of alarm-bells, and the wails
Of men and women in the wakened streets.
A thousand torches flickered up and down,
Lighting their ghastly faces and bare heads;
The while they crowded to the open doors
Of all the churches—to confess their sins,
To pray for absolution, and a last
Lord's Supper—their viaticum, whose death
Seemed near at hand—ay, nearer than the dawn.
“Chioggia is fall'n!” they cried, “and we are lost!”

Anon I saw them hurrying to and fro,
With eager eyes and hearts and blither feet—
Grave priests, with warlike weapons in their hands,
And delicate women, with their ornaments
Of gold and jewels for the public fund—
Mix'd with the bearded crowd, whose lives were given,
With all they had, to Venice in her need.
No more I heard the wailing of despair,—
But great Pisani's blithe word of command,
The dip of oars, and creak of beams and chains,
And ring of hammers in the arsenal.
“Venice shall ne'er be lost!” her people cried—
Whose names were worthy of the Golden Book—
“Venice shall ne'er be conquered!”
And anon
I saw a scene of triumph—saw the Doge,
In his Bucentaur, sailing to the land—
Chioggia behind him blackened in the smoke,
Venice before, all banners, bells, and shouts
Of passionate rejoicing! Ten long months
Had Genoa waged that war of life and death;
And now—behold the remnant of her host,
Shrunken and hollow-eyed and bound with chains—
Trailing their galleys in the conqueror's wake!

Once more the tremulous waters, flaked with light;
A covered vessel, with an armèd guard—
A yelling mob on fair San Giorgio's isle,
And ominous whisperings in the city squares.
Carrara's noble head bowed down at last,
Beaten by many storms,—his golden spurs
Caught in the meshes of a hidden snare!
“O Venice!” I cried, “where is thy great heart
And honourable soul?”
And yet once more
I saw her—the gay Sybaris of the world—
The rich voluptuous city—sunk in sloth.
I heard Napoleon's cannon at her gates,
And her degenerate nobles cry for fear.
I saw at last the great Republic fall—
Conquered by her own sickness, and with scarce
A noticeable wound—I saw her fall!
And she had stood above a thousand years!
O Carlo Zeno! O Pisani! Sure
Ye turned and groaned for pity in your graves.
I saw the flames devour her Golden Book
Beneath the rootless “Tree of Liberty;”
I saw the Lion's le
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)

All black virtues and white vices to day
Point to the reality around the British Empire
Or the famous Great Britain
Or the British Commonwealth
If not the English commonwealth
That its next monarch must be an African
Truly an African without streaks of cosmetic Africanity
Deeply black in colour, ***** in race and African in blood,

The monarchy of England should not be confined
To the parochial and Provencal English blood
Falsely named the royal blood
What a misnomer? For science and religion
Has nothing in history like the royal blood
But only brutal probability of genetics
Ever and ever will befall humanity,

The royalty of blood is only a smokescreen for racism
Or inter European apartheid or apartheid in universality,
The empire of British Commonwealth, Gambia included
Is not about the royal blood of charlese, Elizabeth nor Victoria
It is all about world class cultural inclusivity
Of all the pillars of the English culture,

English commonwealth is of culture, language, attitude and geography
This has to be known devoid of racial biase
And this is the great English empire;
It is a billion African English speakers
Its five hundred million American English speakers
It is a million Australian English speakers
It is a hundred million Indian English speakers
These are the bricks that mould the English commonwealth
Not queen Elizabeth and her son the cuckold of Egyptian mangy dog,
It is the nation of Uganda which is hundred percent African,
No Caucasoids nor Asians but its mother tongue is the British English,
Uganda is crazy; its peasants speak English like Cambridge scholars,
It’s the Nigerian Afro -cinema that promotes spoken English
With the muscle only inherent in the stampede of cultural imperialism,

The royal family is not royal at all in the informed understanding
Or else which family is not royal, show one me please
And I will show you folly of the day
Who wants not to be royal, why not all of us,
Crudeness of culture is the pedestal of reserved royalty
Inclusivity is the contrasting mother of cultural strength
Thus, all English speakers are the royal family
Of the British Commonwealth,
They don’t need royal blood
They already have full amour of the royal culture
Of the English linguistic or mental civilisation,
Please Queen Elizabeth listen to me carefully
Listen with your wholesome body and soul to this song
The song of freedom echoing cultural modernity;
Give to us, we your children of the commonwealth our rights
Include us in our hard earned monarchy,
I also want to be the king of England
I want to fill that royal palace with my dark skin
I want to speak and write English poetry inside the palace
The royal palace of England whose
Whose Golden floor and pavement are  s
Reeking the blood of colonialism
The wood and gold in the palace
Was taken from Africa without any pay
During colonial robbery with violence,
Give me my historical rights to be the king of England
Then my four African wifes; Lumbasi Opicho, Namwaya Opicho, Nangila Opicho and Chelangat Opicho, the most beautiful of all from the heroic Kipsigis
Will be the four queens of England, queens of the English commonwealth
Lumbasi for Scotland, Namwaya for England, Nangila for Wales and Chelangat
For the begotten Ireland,
I have all the virtues in my blood to be the English king
If it’s military, shaka the Zulu is my uncle
If it is wisdom, Nelson mandella is my uncle
If it is intellect Kwame Nkrumah is my father
If it is culture Taban Lo Liyong and Okot p’Bitek are my brothers
Whereas Leopold Sedar Senghor is a son of my father from another mother,
If it is beauty Cleopatra the Egyptian whose beauty killed the Roman king is my mother
If it is science my witchcraft is superior in technology to silicon computing
If it is ***, ask your daughter in law princes Diana
Now what am I missing to become the next English monarch?
McKenna Rich Apr 2014
The shadows
They follow me
Trapped in my own coffin
Of what others call my mind
I do see the light of day
Yet I choose to ignore it
I see the people around me
But I still stay where I am
I get moments of hope
When I feel like I'm strong once again
But then you disappear
And my pillars of strength come tumbling down
I feel so weak
And so worthless
I wonder if I'm good enough
I wonder if you'll say
I wonder if fear will win again
I wonder if you think of me the same
I wonder if you can handle my life
I wonder if you will truly love me
Or will you just leave like the others?
kinda just what's on my mind right now. Just letting my words flow into a poem thing.
He sleeps on the top of a mast. - Bunyan


He sleeps on the top of a mast
with his eyes fast closed.
The sails fall away below him
like the sheets of his bed,
leaving out in the air of the night the sleeper's head.

Asleep he was transported there,
asleep he curled
in a gilded ball on the mast's top,
or climbed inside
a gilded bird, or blindly seated himself astride.

"I am founded on marble pillars,"
said a cloud.  "I never move.
See the pillars there in the sea?"
Secure in introspection
he peers at the watery pillars of his reflection.

A gull had wings under his
and remarked that the air
was "like marble." He said: "Up here
I tower through the sky
for the marble wings on my tower-top fly."

But he sleeps on the top of his mast
with his eyes closed tight.
The gull inquired into his dream,
which was, "I must not fall.
The spangled sea below wants me to fall.
It is hard as diamonds; it wants to destroy us all."
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2015
I will love you till the birds give up flying
Till eyes give up the habit of crying
I will love you till the cats make a truce with mice
Till probabilistic algorithm needs not a dice
I will love you till the Nile pours water into Victoria
I will love you more than war is cherished by any warrior
I will love you till Butterflies become caterpillars
And even if It's samson pushing the pillars
The pillars of my passion will never crumble
I will never change course even if I stumble
I will love you till the Doves stop to sing
Till entangled bees cease to sting
I will love you till the Sun grows cold
And the moon burns hot and grows old
I will love you till it snows in Hell
I will love you till Ants stop living in hills
Because I need you just as Snail needs her Shell
I will love you even when human heart no longer feels
I will love you till all African states unite
I will love you till old age steals my sight
I will love you till roads cease to have potholes
I will love you even after my destiny calls
I will love you till poems no longer rhyme
I will love you till the end of time
Oh to lay between your legs
smelling your hot womanhood

You lay there like a kitten
my cream now yours

Look at my love trickle as you stand
this is my love for you
white on tanned thighs
knicker changing time

Come back to bed
the wine has gone to my head
let me lay in your warmth
between your ***** perfumed pillars

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Mark Lecuona May 2017
Once our lips meet my love
I will enter a sparkling web of stars
A nebula of diffused and swirling light
Once a dark silhouette cast upon my life
The distance traveled is upon me now
The entire lifetime of our existence reminds
We are so small in his eyes, far and near
And as you keep kissing me, as I dreamed
Each one becomes supernova
More beautiful and violent than the last
Swallowing the one from before
Growing ever larger with gravitational lust
Until galaxies swirling far away find their place
Inside my once void and formless existence
But they will never be large enough
To be even pearls in God’s eyes
For that is why we close ours
To find the light in our own line of sight
The one that is now pressing upon our bodies
Bursting into pieces like the stars that drew us near
The ones that burst long before Christ died
And as my heart is risen inside of me
I can only feel the longing in your arms
As you pull me close to the world of mystery
That draws me to my balcony every night
To renew the vow I made to myself long ago
I will endure God’s wish that I witness the dark silence
Until it becomes the pillars of your breath in my ear
Soothing my longing as what is upon me now
Are the arms of light and memories of the past
But a past of creation and not destruction my love
For you were always the beginning and never the end
Scott M Reamer Apr 2013
Man life know just set eyes way like young world soul day hunger space mouth earth thoughts ignorance blind things mind knew final moment human creation kind creatures souls high forgotten dream love spoke self existence face holy deep bound think home void say surrender ear forever called held ephemeral red state end shall heed hope edge living waking fall sea wake garden need February thought past wanderer got men page colored tepid terrible **** proudly untitled features point painted faceless box forgot render wild spring splendor  handfuls looking half brain lost torn ancestral  unseen vision inner summer honor mister owned banner save today fear groans wasn't smoke  street fable strange year contrast black years  able pain body spoken word known motion  palpitate reeling nature culture disclaimers  cancer beg attentive frames ****** base profound double remember wholly finger death token  cries continue folk oh fishing form broken true  divides spread ah twas away breathe wait warning hallowed wish closer lens turn eye live  constant current author hung theory dangle  bramble chemical new force changes adderall  anymore giving beneath possess pardon commentaries eternity internal walk reason  long change does idea glimpse consciousness  wandering simply wonder physical dreams war  sleep told rest benign prior begging truth little  2012 born tale crow bowels allegory animal rule  exasperate making horse curse hands ones read  rearrange capture doing command fail awake  aperture seedlings shift steely sir nap spead ****** demons slits clever telling loud spits la-la-di-dah killing slip game reflected nameless ask  lovers rabid bear salivate plunder shameless  famously savior mint rides menthol bully fate traded melodies play misunderstand mammals gentle witless fine utterly savage silt tongue-less  dirt dilutes pure non-sensory taste briefly ravage dismember it''ll shedding ruined curtain  knots offers plot fulfills munificent two-act  relegates boxz bug altruistic wintergreen tossing  callously guise grovels one's singers treachery ashes mid-life mutter fashion parading  ambiguity separatist liars staple steeping neath  guidelines scoffing stitch moans civil wrote  Fictitious undoing fables table effigies serve  sonnets staged remark psalm swoll praise harken  beggar verse bread lines heavily electricity detection snow sack-happy preaching credit  spotted wicked best gravity gun campaign owe  barge choir revelry celebratory satiated sinking  headline pack hound persistently propaganda  gentlemen excluding diminished ******* run idles  occupied levies wolfishly honestly misinformation cuba vehemently dumb grace spectator erasing  toned sage crowded secrets inter-connectivity  loaned prayer hymns grave mistaken magnified  vandals selective jump leak escapes says minister  buckle mass honesty shut tar children's hats  monument doping long-lived electrical ladle  exaggerated cartoons address seconds cool cradle bleak yang's mind-framed hypnotic  walker caps folly treble claim streaks mixtures  swelled interstate elapse teasing spoon mobile  succulent witchcraft borderline fatal 99 temple stacks sups plastics creeps neurotic ills tossed  meek sipping old crack interlock wax alleyway  coughing blown freak clock birthdays societies  slow flashing viscous candy argument toothless  pills cerebral rapt wall bisect lives wheezing  photo kid starter foiled pair saturated self-castrating pre-packed naked uncertainly pill  used came chaos coated reprisal fells wrack  irreverent mirth sickly disinherited proudest  collate wheeze appearance palette disharmony  discontented bastardized emotive bio inhale diction beat spoiled reclamation loudest tempo  totally disembodied matte imperfect shells flat  struck sounding imparts flak origin severance remarked bone walls snared leaflets mocking  hot scripting adjective noun agape seemingly  resistant gawk calamity passage paintings wind  trashcans signings sits cheap makers poetry persist scrap slipping individual talk wonders  leaving questions fold actor fancy parchment  fates engenders flown jaws stripped longer music  sacrifice fakers book boldly frown sigh atop patient hang trade occupation blows spectacular  whispers worthy backward waving certainty danced suppose needn't ‘drawkcab’ second-guessing  boys forget marched motto heads tightly lies two-tone earthbound harp twice turns goodnight  lying ***** internally indiscriminate nickname  drunk convictions myth steep  in-consumption  fitting artist **** universal sick expressions bad  du spell melody big siphon proud learn sprawls song spastic something temperaments utter check  fissures stomp totality blend definitely thrall sing rug voice shade pestilence ties commiserate round devil steady brains emotional certain gate  suckling gates dearth decay weight bounce pound  carrier pangs glass startle contest earthen web  tug pressed air patience flush amassed guest gone apprehension staring empathize captain believe fading in-perceivable deathbed guarder makes surrounds scatter drooling ebb blink cob tome  venom near door lair derision draws host stairs scent parts curiosities spider webbing surprise wares tips stepping ascetics starkness realize picture surroundings dictations grand pillars  deaf limited comparisons greet visual residents  personal settings dismiss alien law stability common earthly shiftless places prelude  understanding mosaic keen trifling embodiments  geared inception whisper visible jowls kiss murky  puddle rank dawn dichotomy single faithful fraying pays tailor veil climb mores pence whim  breath wellspring samara god stony pear  shadows fruiting forebodes moonlit looming  shown passed bog gold wracked faint tongues  noble preachers mirror shifting layered depth  threads jungle narcissus bemused seamstress self-worshiping architect's wore slumber anomalous  opened barren seam lip caustic scene coupled brick gardener's clenches -with forms idle breed  embodied lore starving empathy design illusion  tree coat fabricate lucid mason scatter-all  narrative seeking imbued 16th shivering chemicals 17th 15thrisk improperly dare  deliberate plan purge try brought chapter speed  aide utmost spirit leading intervention felt  recall recent advent sincerity times diary  lackluster piously lasting happy holding hear  stem tasteless whimpers wet spine monstrosity  dripping causes position quite softly claws pallet  answer digging tearing beast satiating circle breaks skips redwoods beckoning rotted hushed  gray lapsing monoliths deities creborus  imbuement hand stroll paradigm rendered chorus shy whispering forest residual tension  surrenders tolerance lull anew sentenced  bearing tide birds dirge divergent rim joined  cogs wood hesitant mist emergent towering offer  awareness confinement inverted faultier stowed  plane sanctified blanketing trusting memory fossil flash twists laden self-indulgent fleeting invitation agony grip shore impetus lingering  crows promise gift union swallowing endless floor supposed ecstasy sensory intent  psychotropic cradling placement interned  jagged connectivity exchange congenial begun  summons singular spiral assumes ambient reciprocates re-entry fruition reached aggregate lifetime limbs birthed instinct  frightening tarry proper entire light  boundaries innocence pursuit ago discover left  youth's unknowing sacred time place meager  simple fact cast ceaseless wide-eyed literal  apparent coincidence create boldness morphed  crooked kempt mere stumble buried shutter fairy  pivotal definitive months worth shear ambition sound required journeyed self-reflections title  facets vague restless intimation gut wanderer's  leap motivate path account boy soon bears faith  question tripped reasons uproot awaited confronted days step heal provocations wisps crushing transcend chronicles instance  directness raw drove occurrence objective-less  real enters slightest confident nondescript  typify  foreshortened interment paradox bitter heart  devoid jeopardy angry sensation confidential guilty arrogance mercy compliance reprieve  vincent deadening factual sign emotion awe  inhibition shackled butterflies absence actual sciences acknowledgement violent stagnant  spiritual American doors roots lack matted fore  gestures society cause streams intensity hair impossible discord lonely hearts resounding  jest  what's flavored pains closed toxic contented  happenstance scientific knowledge yeah  wizardry shaking stifled withdrawn bloom  jitter dreads settle asocial hulton make  predisposed figurative reflections demeanors  wondered affect hulton's projected sense  morning industry arrays ghosts feeling  certainly endomorphic where's partially wrath  passer mornings jovial unease advertized asking  trash onward wished tempers media mentality connect pasts sharp-toothed scramble great colours trial test salvation continually lent  degree secretly subjection social waned  disconnected colors grimly intellectual civilization cash trading baffling particular  digest myths monumental ending seasons winter  repetition introducing agent everlasting  shoulders delivered honestly-- possession funny  continence history unsightly function suffering propulsion profession divulge familiar tugs era  importance capability perpetuation spite inventory words entirety leveling fray insight  date record continues writer getting evermore fellow tongue possessions identical proof accuracy education similar sack admittance  favor unravel conveyance guilt gives beginnings  predicting audacity definition bobby heady eaters frameless learned release stone grandeur sang  speak molds sleeps split built seats people folded  sheer pour evoked playhouse liquid boring  tellers frayed stark walked reality pleas doth  preformed shows beak pride squawks opinions  greatest bold stunning sightings he'd loudly slain  sunk watch legend precipice theater deeper compound commentator civility justly silly sin  reverent seen prophetic moral confounds notion  lacking explain attempt prolific viral estrange proclivity scorn hide blur pious strung eden's  horror cut skin arch cruel twig mother vile  pass lend woods peach shrunken trail man's canopy worn 434 eat warm limb familiar father delete.

You are what your reading lady. Now would you hold this gun?
Holland Michels Feb 2018
My body spun
From one side of my garage
to the other.

In between the pillars of poles
creating space between the cars
parked in the two car garage

perfect family, right?
not even close

I unlaced my skates
tossing them in a case,
unorganized as my chaotic brain

I leaned down to pick up
a mess of what looked
like plastic

like a broken water container
crushed by the weight
of a basketball tossed without looking

being the good girl I was
I picked up the charred plastic
placing it in my hand to
throw it in the trash

I dropped it in the can
letting the pieces fall
one
by
one.

As I wiped my hands
I found a piece I had forgotten
it had the label of Prego on the side
I realized then
It was a broken spaghetti jar

I ran upstairs
to help with dinner.

I asked my mom
what I could do to
She said
"You can run that blood
under a cold water faucet"

I looked at her confused, saying
"Where am I bleeding?"

She turned my arm over
showing me the cut
glazed over my forearm
I hadn't even felt it

I didn't know
that was the moment
I would find an advantage
to not feeling pain

and an interest
in the impure
realization
that bleeding
wasn't scary...

that it couldn't hurt me
as much as the rest
of my life could.
Hal Loyd Denton Dec 2012
Not for every one heavy religious thoughts expressed

This is my declaration of war know it or not we are in a battle life is a battle and when you are the one
Getting stomped on you are in distress and hard pressed to make clear decisions by divine entreaty
We are called onto love one another and that means coming along side and bearing your burden and
Fighting with and for you your life is of many different situations I see mine as a battle field medic and
One who reports on the fighting I am like my friend in the service who came back from Nam before he
Was a medic but the Cong fixed that now he fought fires along side with the the rest of us but we were in the
Bathroom cleaning up after a fire he had his shirt off and when you were in his prescence his nature
Was more than just fragile he was damaged in a life altering sense now I understood as I looked at
Several bullet holes wounds on his chest and back that had to be fixed by skin grafts it mapped his love
Of country and when boys his age lie wounded and dying they holler medic and then before dying they
Gently weep calling on their precious mother far away that always is mending their hurts but this time
Jesus and His angels rush in to stand by and guard with their love and by lifting up this tired and finished
Warrior wrapped in old glories beautiful red white and blue taking him where a flag that stands in the
Center of glory land it emblem is a lamb slain on a cross blooded and wounded from his love of his lost
Children tears from here to heaven float in the great blackness of our universe perpetually it goes along
With this Quote from Keats they never end either his lines says “A thing of beauty is a joy forever its
Loveliness increases it will never pass into nothingness” another is two hearts beat as one if you think
I’m insincere my tears just fell writing these lines causing hurt again for my wife that must listen but I
Rush to your bleeding wounded hearts on a spiritual battle field my bandages are tear soaked to wrap
Your wounds as you have cried help medic I cry Jesus in this scene depicts from Daniel Gabriel had come
To Daniel’s battle field after Daniel had prayed and fasted twenty one days this is a familiar your story to
Most but his is what I want to share it says I heard a man’s voice from the Ulai river calling Gabriel tell
This man the meaning of the vision and it goes on to say this was an angel of higher rank come to assist
This is another item in my medical bag to help the unknown comes into view in the army there is a chain
Of command it is true of the army of God as well you lay wounded God flashes your call of need through
The spirit world in your case who is reading this you see me only but as the prophet of old faced an army
Of men he feared nothing as he looked on the mighty host of heaven arrayed and fully armed for battle
He was the only one that stood between the deaths of these enemies who as you and I only see the
Immediate through writing beautiful words and revealing unseen powers I’m going to give you the
Power to not be afraid not just words but heavenly beings as your vanguard from your knees alone the
Enemy will be put to flight this still comes from looking down a familiar street and in my mind’s eye
Seeing your pain and suffering at that moment I was alone in the dark car but worse I felt helpless
And alone the thing I did right through great tears and pain I cried and asked God to help me to help
Others this is a first in a series to do that very thing one last thing I offer another angel encounter
This my own at home in California I lost my Job for some reason I had to go to the bank what fun
Money becomes scarce as meat on a skeleton and I go where it is stacked sky high well as I walked
Outside and set on the bench away from everyone and everything a man walked up he looked familiar
In this since his clothes looked the way I felt they had seen better days and the special thing he was
Caring a book just a paperback but it looked like the one I carried I never go out without a book and
Lot of times I carry a bag full of them he was friendly easy to listen to he told me that he lived in
The hills our towns entry sign and letter head from the city depicts hills the highest Mission Peak
As he talked my pressure and wild thoughts settled though we were setting in the sun I felt a comfort
You find setting under a great oak I’m not flipping and I’m not advocating hugging trees but I feel
The angel was said to speak from the river not a stretch everything in this world is controlled by God
First his word alone holds it altogether but beyond that with the extensive reading I have done it
Clearly shows angels are first in charge of your lives and your safety but all living things are under their
Charge and in a minute I’m going to include two pieces that speak of hill and a great Oak well as all
Things do our visit ended and then I knew the person who I had been talking wasn’t a man after all
When he said he stayed in the hills meant a lot more I come to this conclusion because this man
Interested me in my turmoil he pops up and leaves me with a feeling of well being and then the facts
Bare it out we were sitting by this building that sets by itself at a good distance you have small trees that
A rabbit couldn’t hide behind and every direction is open country well I fiddled with my book
For the briniest moment I guess I was thinking about his I look up and he is gone someone comes into
Your life and touches you well one last look would be nice I didn’t run but I briskly walked to the end
Of the building I was already at this end he was nowhere to be found shortly after this I wrote this
Piece about our church and the church yard just up the street the hills flank the length of the city
See if you think his presence lingers and flows on to the page on last thing because of an affliction
I am only allowed twenty minutes at a time on the computer legs and feet problem I spent five hours
The other day no sleep that night so elated all day and my wife made care giver gives me a taste of
Ireland as she screams for me to get off I ran over an hour and a little try to write with the scream of
A banshee behind you this was supposed to be a small piece I never write twelve hundred words I said
That to say can’t check for errors you can have fun finding my mistakes will fix on my next allotted time
You can’t take this to the bank to the bank but I think I suffer from another common malady it’s called
Being hen pecked but it the good kind of hurt here is the church piece then the Oak

Shadow of Eden
In this savage land we call home
There is a pastoral valley that has the richest texture of heaven
This treasured sheep gate beckons tenderly says welcome
These hills and slopes the repository of our hopes
The savior poised in their gentle steeps, for the city weeps
Sweet spirit that fills this natural expanse soft as the breeze
Each tired weary soul you refresh with a quiet hush
We are shown the wisdom of not being in a rush
Unseen pillars tower revealing your mighty power
Written on the pillars at the world side is come unto me
On the church side seek the lost at any cost
The Devil expresses defiance the church makes Heaven her alliance
Wayward souls tormented seeking an oasis dying of thirst
Today we fill these pots of clay and determine to go out of our way
Seeking those that hunger and thirst by this Christ we manifest
To the world the church is ghostly not completely visible
It shimmers as though it isn’t real blindly they feel about
In your life they find solid ground clear of the mist
They finish a terrible journey now they feed from all their needs freed
No longer exhausted from continually milling about
The Sheppard stands holy watch and cast a confidant shadow
In this respite feeding and richly nourished they grow strong
Gladness quietly cascades from spiritual hills of splendor
By angles man sees more than just the coarse and obvious he sees the heart of all living things
That reveals the heart and Genius of the one that made it all a great package that each newborn
Finds he tears a way layer upon layer of wrappings love joy hope possibility of dreams that await
And so much more your I just added this you’re never too old to go back to that place where
Wonder still remembers you its polite to revisit in fact it is required for good health and a
Positive mind where is it now where else would human birth occur except at angel central

Lost Friend
This is just a few lines written to celebrate the generations of one Paso Robles family, and their parallel existence with one of nature’s monarchs that was destroyed in recent storm.
You will always remain in my mind.
I can’t remember when you weren’t watching.
Tall strong, graceful shade the bewitching kind.
Long ago a fellow relative started your stately reign.
This our home place he surveyed.
His eye, the land did fill with awe.
From this bond through a lowly seed he prayed
Bless this spot; many a day has he spoken from the oak.
Grandeur over stretched grandmother’s dwelling.
We could only marvel at thy great strength.
From your great silence serenity you were telling.
Shot and blasted against the sky, fireworks of wood.
Clothed in rough hardened bark
what comfort and wisdom you inspired.
Who understands the wonder, my soul you did mark
your size triggered the greatest gift, curiosity.
Branches the wind passing through what mournful cry
Nature’s tune sublime given to delight as only a sad ballad can evoke
Nothing else should try
To match violins in the sky.
My eyes see it in a grand sweep
The ground brought forth a stately wooden crown
Of blackest oak to stand tall and steep
A gentle giant to greet the wayward wind.
Two divergent seeds the ground did divide.
One of wooden grain the other flesh and blood
their branches throughout the community do abide
as charming as church bells ringing, touching all.
And just one more in case you need it friend if you don’t get it
I have lived through some hell in my live now I think it’s time to return
The favor I’m going to give hell all the heat I can that is white heat of love to the suffering
And oh so awful to him but his fire is going to gage on these pages like the fires I used to
Fight in the service as a servant to my country now I’m your servant and I’m fired up I fought
Bullies all through school now I plan to fight the biggest one for you

Sorry I think you could use some granite in your fight

Vaulted sky
Shaded canyon breathtaking heights does the angry wind speak if so in a whisper the granite peaks austere and bleak seem to frown on the trees and lowly grass lands with their fertility and ease of growth. While he the monarch bristling with his cold barren armor of granite invites the stares the awe inspired gratitude of nature and mortal man he knows there dreams and thoughts how many have stood at the edge of wonder on his brow with fainted hearts. Their thoughts drift out and away ever upward reaching the clouds filled and clothed with mountain air brightly they are displayed in these untamable rays. Voices of the ancient ones still echo their wisdom still resounds in the summer thunder they visited and released many a tortured soul. Before Blind they stood before the closed door of their minds knowing there is a path but where can it be found. Riches unbound await the searcher who will go to any and all lengths to conquer unbelief freedom his guiding star he walks in great shadows. Mountainous men Jefferson Lincoln his stalwart companions stand with grandest stature takes from the mountain those teachings not found in musty universities. Thoughts born on creations morn formed and laid on this rocky foundation now for centuries they have bore the weight this colossus purified they are words more noble than gold. Share them invest them in the borderless world of human kind that circle the globe. Moses was familiar and consorted with mountains the angel made one his sepulcher. Waste not the golden hours they are the thread that sows life’s most exquisite moments together making a life. Turn aside seek the heights they will give you respect and honor words will flow that are uncommon they will fit any and all circumstances filling the empty void where hearts bleed without ceasing. Your voice will be like the cool mountain breeze soothing filled with substance and comfort.

Well three hours must I tell you in the dog house and no feathers left it was worth it for me
I hope for you too

Where God passes
The edge of forever where raw power is displayed
Walk the seascapes enter the story told in timelessness except for outer space it is the only place where man finds his mind freed so steep is the unending awe that without question he finally is able to present his self as the tiny speck lost is all ego all self importance he is open to the quest for ultimate truth. You perfect you’re thinking at the sea shore it is a storehouse that lends itself to grand thoughts no limitations hamper your endeavors aliveness engulfs you totally. Subdued moods excavate every shallow you start a down ward decent the deep cries out to your soul the part that never can be accessed on shore. The ground a foundation for raising up temporal structures your needs are served in waters that open as a mysterious gate the deeper the fathoms the more understanding is released. To abide in calm surface features of the sea what a waste take off the restraints become a voyager drift with churning twisting pressures they will give great reward for accosting your accustomed staid and uneventful living. Go deeper the mundane the so called important will be forced through your very pores as you continue calling the unknown manifest itself with great scrolls hidden beyond reach to those that plod along the sunny quiet banks. Life test all men you can face them unafraid armed with years not minutes of preparedness found alone in the struggle only found at sea. Pondered Plumbed in inexorable conditions that stretches changes a person’s character his stature tempered fired as steel in the caldron. We need leaders vibrant thinkers people who can and will accost hell in the very near future and come away victorious. They will have found their way through the untold deadly entanglements figuratively and real their not accustomed to ease and know perils at close quarters they learned them in great waters not in pools that have not the ability to stir you to your core you’re going to pour out your life in one form or another do it with sand and grit leave a scarred an effectual trail for others to follow not the light untraceable light footsteps of one who has never lived.
Spelz Nov 2013
Your voice resonates in the depths of my mind,
It awakens my soul and is paid back in kind,
A jubilant audience without schedule nor time,
without vision nor feeling, nor scent to remind,
my heart of this feeling i seek in rewind,
Pensive at a distance this place thats in him,
yet pillars your voice doth ***** now within.
Tess B Apr 2012
Plume of gas and dust
Flash of light and energy...
Thus burst the pillars
Who birthed luminosity.
Raj Arumugam Mar 2012
jp (a fellow-poet here at HP) and I were speaking of a popular Asian imagery of the Mind as a Monkey...I mentioned that I would write a poem of how this idea is also embodied in a Chinese legend of the Monkey King...And this is the poem that follows...




Sun Wukong, or the Taming of the Monkey Mind


PART 1
The arrogance of Sun Wukong


Monkey you may think of me
but ordinary I am by no means:
timeless and
of primal forces
from a rock I was born
at the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit
I, pure energy, unrestrained
in perpetual motion

Powers? Ha! you mortals are easily impressed
by miracles and powers
aren’t you, you puny lot?

In one turn I can travel a 108 000 li
I can do numerous transformations
I can cloud travel
and my magic staff that I keep
in the size of a sewing needle when not in use
has similar powers;
and with each hair of mine
I can be an infinity of myself -
though I’ll confess
I can’t make a complete change into human
as my tail just won’t go away

So in all, great deeds I’m capable of;
and I wiped my name off the Book of Life and Death
so I am immutable -
so why am I even talking to you weaklings?
Go climb a tree, you imbeciles!
And stay up there! Don’t descend!




PART 2
The taming of Sun Wukong


And Sun Wukong flies up to the Heavenly Kingdom, styles himself “Great Sage, Equal of Heaven” and there creates tremendous Havoc and Chaos…and even the Jade Emperor, the Heavenly Emperor, has his **** kicked…and then it is that Sun Wukong comes face to face with the Buddha…*


And Sun Wukong screams at the Buddha:
“I’ll kick and I’ll blow  
And you won’t know where you’ll go”

And the Buddha says:
“And who are you?”

And Sun Wukong says:
“You probably haven’t heard of evolution
but I’m the one who went straight to the top –
I can travel anywhere quick and swift
to any part of the immense void or universe”

And the Buddha says:
“Try then and show me
you travel the universe
and back here before me”


And Sun Wukong jumps into thin air
and off he goes into deep space
and emptiness and void
but no matter how far he goes
it seems endless
and it tires Sun Wukong
and then seeing what
he thinks are the 5 pillars
at the end of the universe
he scrawls on the surface:
“Sun Wukong was here!”
And in an instant Sun Wukong is there again
right before the Buddha

And says Sun Wukong:
“See I have travelled to the
end and saw the 5 pillars
and scrawled there my name”

And the Buddha says,
holding up his right palm:
“See, all you have done
is to travel across my palm”

And Sun Wukong sees the words
he had written just before but now miniscule
And the Buddha puts a coronet round
Sun Wukong’s temple
that helps calm the Monkey Mind
that helps still the Restless Mind





NOTE: 180 000 li = 54 000 km or 33 554 ml
I have not offered this as a religious text, but as part of our shared world inheritance of traditions, legends and lore…you can read the poem as “Monkey Mind”and “Monkey Mind tamed”…I don’t think my perceptive readers will take it as an insult if I say the Monkey refers to oneself and one’s mind…


*Companion picture:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sun_Wukong.jpg       *This poem dedicated to jp*
SøułSurvivør May 2017
Where's a soft, safe place to land
In a desperate hour
When you find you cannot stand
And you're a mighty tower?

Where's a shoulder you can cry on
When you're the one who's tough?
Where's the place where
you can go
When you have had enough?

Where is God at times
When you are like an owl?
When you're in the 18th round
And want to toss the towel?

Sometimes I just feel this way!
Sometimes it's just hard!
It seems folks want to lean on me
When I'm a house of cards!

I know that God is closest
When He seems far away
I know that in my intellect
But it doesn't feel that way!

So I'll put on praises
To music I bequeath
Sing to my Lord and Savior
Though through gritted teeth!

I will read the Psalms
About David's many trials
HE didn't always dance a jig.
HE didn't always smile!

I'm not going to sell you stuff
You don't want to buy
I'm not gonna tell a tale
I'm not going to die, but
Sometimes *I NEED A SHOULDER

Upon which to lie!
I'm sorry i haven't been able to read. Maybe later when I'm
Feeling better...
Paul S Eifert Nov 2012
Rusty nail by rusty nail the floors come down. Floor by floor
the old men of the old town slip away, and leave old shells
like the stone bread of Pompey. We board these windows
and bolt these doors and slate them in the young sun
for the hungry cranes, but I return in the twilight
of going home traffic when five o'clock lets loose blue collars
to fumble through the ruined rooms of time gone by,

I kick through our broken bricks. Their red dust stains
my shoes and wears on my cuffs. A hopeless hearth,
discarded news, a crippled doll with matted hair
and I all share the crumbling of the day, but only I
shall not remain come compline. Neither can I
pack these walls with me. So this is adieu
to former strongholds. To our old fidelity, adieu.

It is not fit to go forth less than brave, for
they built seven cities over Troy, seven worlds
not knowing where they stood so long the first
could not be said to be. The docks of Caesarea sleep
in the sea, and tourists sit for lunch
on the prone pillars
of Jaffa.

— The End —