Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Drew Plant Mar 2012
I knocked on society’s door,
Hollow footsteps through the crevice of civility,
A ***** welcome mat with a broken doorbell;
No visitors wanted who were not invited,
And understanding was buried under the porch.

In Law’s front yard,
picketed with ire and arrayed with disorder,
Olive branches strewn across dry grass,
lay an empty briefcase marked in leather.
Gavel and irony betrayed her whimsically.

Garden beds in front of Understanding;
Plundered of roses and wanton petals.
Bland stems wilted amongst the weeds.
Relinquished of entitlement; water led
Towards apathy and entropy instead.

A house of Perhaps: vacant,
Open front door to empty rooms.
Leased to opportunity but vacated in days,
Renovations procrastinated; mocked by
The neighbor of dismay and wry.

Ignorance paved a new driveway,
The unanimous watch of Lively Cul-de-sac;
Gated community with hopes of manicured
Lawns and pools. Procreated in the minds
Of not wild men, but surveyors.
Path Humble May 2018
put all the words
in the world
in my two hands,
each a microscopic dot
of near invisible,
teeming, heaping,
ricochet intersecting
colliding,
cell splendid splitting
leaping,
until they,
wordlessly forming
a sign inquiring,
in neon flashing:

“What did I demand of them?”

”New combinations,” my reply.

how we
laughed together...
as they procreated
My Happy Request
Walk with me,
    Through the night.
Such blissful glimmering,
    Promise above.

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
        Lovers fated,
            With promised shine.

That deepening dark,
    Hiding us true.
Naked we were-
Invisible to all.
    All that is known.

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
        Lovers fated,
            With promised shine.

Light pooled from above,
    The creek reflecting sky.
Bathe us in innocence.
Arise as newborns.
Cry out: “Always Onward!”

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
        Lovers fated,
            With promised shine.

“Always Onward!” indeed-
Through thicket and tree.
Speak not of the path,
    Traveled before.
Speak not of the path,
    That lay ahead-
Only travel.

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
        Lovers fated,
            With promised shine.

We must not stay-
There is field to traverse,
    Mountains to conquer.
Be light on your feet,
    Radiant star.

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
        Lovers fated,
            With promised shine.

Shadows sure to haunt-
    Born from timber,
    From moon.
Fear not nature’s ruse-
We are roaring animals!
    “Always Onward!”

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
        Lovers fated,
            With promised shine.

Moss at foot and leafs of past,
    Share with us-
Your everything.
    Energy of all things-
Gone and to come.

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
         Lovers fated,
             With promised shine.

Cliff top high, oh release us.
    Let us know the world,
        As does the wind-
Touching everything.

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
        Lovers fated,
           With promised shine.

Above it all we soar,
    Eagles we are-
Royalty of the sky.
What Gaze from below-
What gaze at majesty.
Dawn would show our feathers,
    But in the night-
We are but gusting wings.

My hand in yours,
    Yours in mine.
        Lovers fated,
           With promised shine.

Alas! The horizon!
Water and sky meet,
    But the journey yet to end.
Procreated by thunderous roars-
We animals HOWL!
    “Always Onward!”
        “Always Onward!”
            “Always Onward!”
Glenn McCrary Apr 2012
Petals with textures of full moons
sensations tingle like the hands
of grandfather clocks
apathetic to cobwebs
procreated through decades
marred by dolor
strange repercussions
groove across pebble stones
flames leap from pages
a tale of voodoo incense
Vernarth was ready at the threshold of the validity of the constellation of Orion, barely a hundred millionths as indicated by the Duoverse in his Cosmogonic amphiboly, and sensitive to physical space with the Kli vessels that he carried on his back that were in the proximity of the Loop of Bernard as the Omission nebula as the exponential hemicycle in the center of Aurion's oculus waiting for Vernarth and redistribute its molecules at 518 light-years or 440 Parsec, with the diameter that will be reflected in Patmos of more than 300 light-years condensed with the element of Hydor or water from high space over Aurion. Vernarth, united by the fragrant hand of the Mashiach, could carry it when he moved away from the Opistodomos and the remains of incandescent lagoons of supernova materials that surrounded them to accelerate the mass of the Iridescent Nimbus that Vernarth would carry, and the Mashiach as a sentinel of his Purgation. already defined whenever the simultaneous explosion of the Super Nova with Patmos becomes effective, and the Terrestrial World in impulsiveness that admonished him under the right shoulder blade in the skinny hollow of the arm that was getting rid of the oscillometer right at the original entrance of Betelgeuse, and when Vernarth remained alone in the frontal altitude chamber to take off towards the cosmogonies of Eridanus to tune into the Ptolemaic astral. The Sybilla who acted as stellar consort would be Herophile with overtones of expansion and her brilliant metric mass that would take her through Betelgeuse Orionis allied to a multifunctional instrument such as the entrance Aulos, expelling hydrogen-like an Ace in 240 harmonic scales, and sounds of light that they boomed towards the Pleiades and the Milky Way where it would be the supposed first state of paradox where Vernarth would utter: "Give me a little Gála and I will be more than Zeus". This is where he will experience the diarthrosis of his synovial joints in the process of Hyaline cartilage, allying himself with the two bones and synovium to hunt down the Trapper Aurion in advance to wake up from the feared defenseless world that he feared since everything he abandoned despite having his Purg discharged, he kept sensing that if nothing would work for a lost world. Here Vernarth would hold Alexander the Great's first childhood vision as an infant at Péla using his scapula with the force of rubbing discs at the Olympiad making the sky his Odyssey-encrusted Constellation of whips, and sullen Hellenistic being by May in the amber trunk trapezoid and in each hand a Xiphos and Dorus.

The pathologies were at the forefront with dexterous inclinations of his Kopis to the west when he throws it and the whistle of return makes him see that the meteorites reached as far as his gaze could observe the latitudes of the Tyrrhenian. He takes his bronze-brass cudgel with the corrosive breath, filing the odysseys on the concupiscent ******* of Eos, Goddess of the dawn, opening the heavens of the eager natives of Gála, by sipping raw milk from the right edge of the corner of her upper lips before the first dawns of the world, when Eos would be in grains or grasses that brandished from the bronze club that Vernarth waited for before leaving Gaia, or rather the fertile land of Patmos that officiated at him. Mega hectares appeared that threatened Enopion's revenge, disturbing his eyes that shone in Hesiod's striae by advocating for him in the Duoverse where all deities would be annulled but his psychic ramifications as stellar humans would be covered by the action of Helium gas. In this way Vernarth was already bidding farewell to Saint John the Apostle with his rounded eye set on the shine of both pupils between Mintaka, Alnitak, and the third shine of his pupils united in communion with Vernarth when arriving sideways at the pale shine of Alnilam (The Three Mariah) fourth star to follow in Orion as the brightest of the three on Vernarth's neck like a necklace of precious pearls. In this way, he climbed the steps to measure the slow brilliance of the immensity of the celestial solstice that raised him with the expedient Sun that also led him towards the twelfth lunation of the celestial vault attached to Pléyone in his bolometric oceanic matrix, which will arise between the stellar limitrophe between the Canes Mayores and Menores, and a priori in the measurement of the eye of Aurion always harassing the Pleiades. The intrigue will be reborn for the second time from the Duoverse's momentum that Vernarth will have to leave in the biosphere oscillation wasteland of Prometheus already freeing himself from life in community, and from an extreme sensitivity of major psychic connections that will flow throughout the immensity of inaccessible time. , on the atmosphere of the earth like bronzes that twist in the necks of the oxen that urinate on the endowments of the Barnard Loop, and its polyphonic magnetic exciter, on it the ***** of Orion falling on the poles as flagrant Amphibology. The Kanti Steed and the Aorion nebula to the beat of a waltz will ionize chemical portents of ions free of electrons, on the neutral molecules of Betelgeuse to propagate in the nerves of the shoulders of the bronze club ad limit of harmonious praxis, and net compromise by supplying steps to the nebula and art of the Duoverse that shows the primeval daily days as in his alchemical armband, germinating astral Lynothorax and axillary armpit that held him in his maximum club, cutting down roots of Olivo Bernar after Barnard's Loops in between of fugitive stars that go regimented in their ionized bleeding esplanade, like Stellae Novae that transfers astronomical cults in the formation and pretext of going through the darkness to sleep near his parents Poseidon and Euryale, acclaiming him near the gramineous fields to paste him with explosive clay on the portfolio of such a smiling face drunk with Ionian wine, in precedence of the disemi nar by the new and expandable Duoverso, Vernarth was already on the last steps of the stairs similar to that of Florence in the Medicea Laurenziana as well said to feel alive when going to paradise next to the Messiah who came to pick him up. But at times electrifying residues would vanish over his field of vision in small beams or flashes, which would prevent him from moving forward to the last stirrups without looking back where all the Birthright was watching him for one last time.

Sitting on the edge of Andromeda, Zefian was waiting for him to meet him in his dark chamber, since the most intimate and primordial causality of his metaphysics emerged from the bases of the reason for all things that should exist, before everything was created and that it has never had pre-eminence as it is in this case of the parasitic chamber of Zefian in the company of the Auriga, which also came to wait for him in the calash running wild as prescribed by the Duoverse in the structures of luminosity in the midst of this colossal inter-planetary chamber, between molecular agitated points that will venture through the axon of infinity longitudinally unpredictable for light-years even though it is so. The thermal outcomes of superheated remnants over the entire luminosity will speak of the catastrophe, and of the inherent emptiness in the eyes of the eternal hothouse very close to the supernovae that can only strengthen the fusion of the space disks of the Universe-Duoverse long before the explosion between Orion and Andromeda. The axes of time will be dislocated between both astral components in this dissonant chaos that will contract with Vernarth's levitation whenever he has stepped on the last step before entering the Hydor chamber in every dark portion of the Universe, making both constellations the ferrule or ring that will yield to the underbelly of Betelgeuse, dispossessing the boasts of the appropriate Commander Hetairoi of his Lynothorax to resist the ravages and turbulence of the Apokálypsis, which brought the immense loads of matter that discharged all its constant energy through the circulating nuclear power plants, and tangents that caused galaxy changes pierced by Hetairoi Aorion clods satirizing expenses for retracting the galaxies below Soldier's precept and super homeostatic mass attracted from their distance on astronomical scales of 2.5 million light-years.

The galactogenic galaxy made use of great prominences that would cover the greater proportional that is outlined in Andromeda of the strands of the Universe adjacent to the spiral that rolls on the underbelly, deferring to telescope sections, and the gravitational field to execute its nocturnal translation like the Hyperdisis Galaxy that collects the bubbling of the belt in conjunctions of minor stars making star mechanics by exaltation, and magnetic disorders creating other leading atmospheres in those detached from the cord of Andromeda, the Milky Way, and Orion. Vernarth was still holding on to the transparent hand of the Messiah while he was climbing the ascension steps to Hydor that would transport him to travel with him through the globular clusters, they will form the perfect delay in transfusing the lineage and not another, in this way the Lynothorax or bleeding pectoral de Vernarth continued to flow from this polynomial tractatum between all area subjugation guidelines, and refinement of the sagittal profile of Hyperdisis in the inter-galactic reversible staked Duoverse.

Lenticular to irregular above the nails of the trapezoid, it spread towards Aurion's right armband, sequentially making the centric radiogram hiccup, despite taking advantage of interstellar matter to self-generate its own transmission light, this made it refrain from emanating the hybridity that came out of its body by vibrating above everything that expelled from its center towards the right rectitude of Orion, thus making the multiplied speed of containing itself of both parts of the null hemisphere of its free will when verifying that it never existed, that it was only an illusion of doubtful matter that would soon Go away like gasified water on the galactic repulsions that would settle on Patmos as devotions of Skalá, and Astro-omegas that would be adhered to the Xiphos and Kopis, who were still united to their being rather in the contour of the perimeter of his soul two meters floating like invisible quantum universes. The totality of everything was inciting the fields of omega-stars that would begin to advance after becoming visible from the spur of the sword that became denser with the viscosity of the Hebrew Adom, which trickled from Orion to Hellenic lands as an Omega age for Vernarth which is conceived early when it carries Hecate's Kleidia or keys to the Omega world towards the proto-galaxies that provide ultramarine loaves, knowing that the Milky Way and Andromeda come so close in their stellar mass that they can collide in a few million light-years. The Duoverse of Hyperdisis was predicted in the visual reality of a fusion of change to interact with each other as it dismembered but re-transformed into the new theoretical core of the Duoverse as a large Black Hole embedded in the center of Patmos. In such a way all the inhabitants began to worry when phenomenal masses of warm air that began to take on the appearance of the Universe plagiarized each other generating incoming earthquakes, not affecting the Opistodomos or the Primogeniture, nor the crowd that was waiting. of all the monstrosity of monks who were grouped kneeling on the top of the Profitis, floating the shattered shaggy skein parts of the Himation. As it was dyed in the albi-color of Calígine, demonstrating the darkness of the intrinsic terror of whoever plows later to free all the succumbed who fell throughout Greece and Judah, exposing all the origins of appearance from the internal now in the converted Universe that was reimplanting itself in the helical of polarity, and bifurcating by pretexting all the reincarnations and polishing the stagnant cessation of darkness towards a luminance that could warn them and observe where their feet could move, sheltered from the monumental litter of calorimetry, and chromatics that was linked in romances trivial with the residuals of the angel shark galaxies where Aurion's progenies will deliver in candelas per square meter: LV waking is the luminance, measured in Nits or candelas per square meter (cd/m²).

• F is the luminous flux, in lumens for the Andromeda triad, the Milky Way, and Hyperdisis in conjunction with Orion. From here Vernarth will supply all of them as the one who will dwell in it in the preface of his Fables of Calígine with the following: "Ex Calígine Chaos: ex Chao et Calígine, Nox, Dies, Erebus, Aether", which transliterated means "Of Darkness: Chaos. From Chaos and Darkness: Night, Day, Erebus, and Ether", Decreeing the (Burning Darkness) before Chaos as flow F, is he also the only one who divinized this abstraction, conferring a proper meaning to the word. And then make of the normality of dwelling in the darkness that is the irrevocable opulence of the desire to maintain the radiance of all the forces that devour eternity. From the remote aces came dark families of flying Lepidoptera Ditrisios, lined up with countless other species that carried dimensional eyes that will be devoured by ocelli or giant eyes that come from the chaos of Vernarth's Caligine to appease the effects of ultraviolet rays, which started from the Nimbus Iridescent creating a layer of protection between the new dimension of the twilight of flight that was already beginning to ignite from the Aurion's scaly fingers.

• dS is the surface element considered the triad Kímolos, Rodas and Patmos. While Vernarth is distracted, he manages to dissipate the twilight of the inverted Erebus between Eleos and Ezis, personifying Clemency and Sadness, where they border the worlds that are not yet riddled with chaos or Calígine, who exalted himself over Erebos with the redemption of Eleos, who was getting ready to swallow the sadness of Ezis. Therefore Kimolos, Rhodes, and Patmos will consolidate their hegemony of unalterable lands where Eleos' piece of clemency will bring the support that makes Ezis's faceless portent, close to the hybridity of the Itheoi gods, in the Transversal Valleys of the Horcondising, with the Norns and generosity of Apollo who had given them after long stays in Hyperborea as female spirits once again as advocacy and imperishable protection of the legacy of Smintheus's travels by providing the company of Dísir, Uror, Verdandi, and Skuld as a female entity, of the past, current and future that should occur by order of Skuld. This will allow the three to unite with the Ds to merge the three as a complement of three female entities that will safeguard all climate change on future disasters in the Dodecanese.

• dΩ is the solid angle element, from Vernarth Omega and the origin of the Duoverse. From this premise, the worst of Vernarth's fears was to let go of the Messiah's hand and fall into the anger that blushes even Hetairoi Hero from Deimos, when the night reverts to the rest of the demons and the night adopts those who go perceiving in Vernarth that perhaps he was holding hands with Ares for the battle alongside his brother Etrestles, under the orders of the savagery of the metaphysical engines of panic. From this vision, Vernarth manages to open his eyes with the desire to show those who were watching him and to be able to show that he was aware of being a prisoner of his emotions and escaping from himself in the illustrious suffering of thousands of arrows, which ran around him like fleeting meteorites to the flat field of Tisiphone's revenge. The luminances became and became colors that were molecularly twinned with disparate tones that were capable of differentiating them, and at the same time nullifying the power of obscuring Vernarth's countenance to take his right hand and take the arrow to break the darkness that was lunged at him.

• θ is the angle between the diameter from Andromeda and the Milky Way (2.5 million light-years), Nemesis or Ramnusia as the retributive coercion of disobedience, being aware Vernarth became more and more of a being adopted by balance Nemesis for balance to command him to his senses before entering the field of limpidity of his soul in transit to liberate himself from all the chained who used to be happy, but sad that no one acclaimed them except Aionius Itheoi of Vernarth who translated the messages that from now on will move diametrically from Andromeda to the Milky Way, without any of these two portions being invaded only under the order of Nemesis, and Vernarth abiding by the retributive justice of The luminance that can be defined from the radiometric magnitude of the radiance without more than weighting each length of the wave by the sensitivity curve of the eye. Thus, if LV is the luminance, Lλ represents the spectral radiance and V (λ) symbolizes the sensitivity curve of Vernarth's eye in the underbelly of Betelgeuse, spilling plasma and magnetic bruises on the galaxies and Eyes of Orion.
Meanwhile, it manifested itself as a personal universe, not excluded from time and space for a metaphysical causality that will not be able to compose the mentality that is measurable in the joint senses of a Zig Zag birth from this same calígine emerging from another creature of self-observation and see the physiognomy of the anti-material and mass Universal Horcondising. From which we pre-exist to waste of science that models the system of energy and matter in causes of ancestors with which his life and ours that were propelled furtively. Gravity made great paternity in Vernarth's active Biomass, being in the Dodecanese and cosmos in the verification of curvature that makes us with the moon of its romantic astrophysical swings and exaggerated geometry of a Zigzag.

We are versatile multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the void that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising, and also of time2-space2 that have not been attributed to the origin of the stars that move irregularly in Zig Zag, for their immature componential that is clearly of Aramaic blue light from the Pealim of the Abba, circulating with bullets movements skimming the air of the grasses attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe, making appear before them the duplication of the universe itself; in Duoverse, which is the recently shaken Universe and of gratitude in the distribution of nearby galaxies that are keys to the paleo kosmous already arranged in macro waves, which are percentages of the spaces of the Tri-solated energy fields, which interact with the phylogeny of the Mashiach in Gethsemane, lying now in a stagnant decomposed future, in a frozen present specific to the peri Kosmous. Its final station is to wager the Zig Zag Universe on the temporal middle Ages chrestomathies re-expanding in qualities of gregarious Sub-mythology, already settling here in Archangels to activate. The implosion of gravity has procreated worlds of visibility of magnanimous astronomical longings, in some fractions of time in Zig Zag by millions of fractioned light-years, as an irregularity that resembles the measure of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not acquiring the hexagonal of the primogeniture of the fragment since Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism whose Original is attributed fractal in form.

The personification of longevity was trapped by Geras, always escaping from the obfuscated universe or temperament that could be represented in humanity that relied on the antigens that served as support for the reversibility of every hero like Vernarth, who tried to glorify himself in the fullness of life in Heraklion or in the sand that was dyed red-azure when the soul of Alexander the Great would rise together with Vernarth with the Mashiach. The fractal beating line of the Mediterranean towards a vein resembling the rhinestones of King David to the Ziziphus of the Messiah simulating to be irregular symmetrical formats, to build gems in thorns of landscapes that basically subdivide into similar conical funnels, to then be randomly displaced towards its central point shared with King David's five o'clock Incorruptible crown, recursively reiterating it in each square until the eminence of the desired detail was reached in the curve that joins the landscape to Bethlehem and then to the Baptistery of the Shepherds in its hexagonal base, figuring to be the sleet in the final Crown of Rejoicing falling on the top of the roofs "Doroteo or theological gifts" in which the Mashiach's stable of Kafersuseh burst and agonized in the abstraction of the One-Dimensional Beams with foreign eyes, and own tissue eroding to mortal frowns that can be seen with their divine eyes in our own likeness, and of the planet n failed to increase the size so unknown and analytical in this peripeteia of the implosive ideology of the bubbling of the Verthian Duoverse.
The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals detailed in their nature, and in the natural infinity that here was envisioned from the new privileged world for self-similarity in speculative functions of Vertnarth, by intervals in each space of shadowy fences, bringing accelerated courier bulbs from Gethsemane in intermediates of olive trees transformed towards other humans.“Their correlation is infinite with reversible observable time, and paternal belonging to mobile gagged echoes of a space that is obstructed by Vernarth, in such a monograph and integers among the fractional integers "Finite is the curvature between the path that walks through the thickness of the Duo-Universe as an alternative of Zigzag and Duoverse energy, which is unleashed to our subconscious observable orb, and what a great beacon reflecting eye that ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the One Dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem. The Duoverse is the rehearsal Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse Orion, changes of arduous colors in gradient and Avant-Garde, for limits of perspectives and verbally of amendments of physical fields framed by an external gravitational means. The macro waves are exposed to matters not contained in the abrupt changes of the Mashiach optical selection with the One-Dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them in reaction disturbances, and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian astronautics, examining the double of the macro waves and equation of them on the axis of the universe converted into Duoverse, already in millions of light-years, they will continue in the Duoverse, to reconvert from ectoplasm with large margins of assertiveness. Cartography is the error correction of the current universe, getting lost in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time…!, remaining at the expense of the wick of the Cirio with all its electro-matter” Having already established the sub-mythology, Hestia appears after having slept a great dream, when she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika she was seen changing size, when she was six meters away she looked tiny and when she was already two meters away from him It looked monumentally enormous, but with a versatile physiognomy, therefore it was already appreciated in the last steps with its domestic figure of a goddess that emanated light-years disserted by chimneys and its rooms. The critique of immanence that would happen, would pre-exist the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and Hyperdisis as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of the Vas Auric, which consisted of the great ratio of the proscenium in the Teodora vicinity of Tsambika, between Clairvoyance/Judgment for Wisdom/Meditating constant mechanisms according to the cosmological constant, leading perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called the Triverse. The oscillation of all these fantasies was observed by Vernarth, but he knew that he would have to collide with this finally, already precipitated by temperatures that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate him into the proselytizing provisional Duoverse, which moves backward between the lights vertiginous of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around him, establishing units of millions of years of compressed light from the piccolo Aulós, which Hestia carried in one of his pale hands, his prytaneion was lighting up with the flames of the heart of fire and passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", paving the light in the clarity of the faith of the owners of farmhouses that were founded when they arrived in Tsambika in search of the Vas Auric, acclaiming with the omphalos stone that marked the navel of the world with defiance wandering to the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils over her face always walking to and from her home unscathed in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only perhaps there are some similar ones who were staying in the cold fire of her climacteric losing fertility after his father swallowed them, and then they were expelled from himself regurgitated in flaming matches from a blessed house full of indemnity, giving the Duoverse another category calculated with angles never contained vibratingly sliding between distances that discount minutes of Hestian space for such a corollary of approaching to its finitude and inaugurate the sub-finite,  which will never be a source of terminus in a disconcerting end of time not finished flush with the physical equation. “This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is consummated and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-infinite).

Vernarth was a few meters from entering the Nimbus, when suddenly his soul darkened and his panic flared..., suddenly he felt a scream from above and below he saw how everything was made of rubble. Courage blinded him, not wanting to observe what the evident end of the world and rubble intended to consume him if he said goodbye to his most beloved beings, until the lines of infinity approached those of the earthly world, intending to eliminate all traces of his family lineage. In this way, he begins to run through his hands the reflected Hydor of colors that pierced the skylight of austere words. He manages to see Calígine del Apokálypsis farther from the mist, detached from all gravitational force, only being able to see his mother among the smoke, who was coming up by a ray of light, Vernarth tries to free her from that moment of expiration but does not reach the synchrony of catastrophe in what pretended to be from the hand of Eris as the disagreement that did not allow him to put his survival weapons in order, believing that this instance would not allow him to ****** her from the goddess Eris, if he could believe that it was inevitable that his mother Luccica became a granite coat of arms, after the dark night that threatened to unravel her from her flimsy solid state, and then crumble to the ground turned into the ground that was crushed from roots that postponed it to be consumed by the gift of the light of life, and end of a light that is visible in all the roots of the earth when consumed by the infinite that vanishes in the existence of all being.

Vernarth, when a moment of clarity allows him to see his mother, tries to rescue her, realizing that his father Bernardolipo was with her, between them they would try to redeem them from the spread of Nix and Calígine, who behaved with great pain by mocking the edges of the Ether that they received Crono, they could not be victorious in arriving in time to rescue them, if from the harmony of a troubadour of the Mashiaj he observed him see if he would return with him to enter. They became visible in their parents as they contended before an avoidable awareness of this indivisible event with the aggressor words of hindrances and generations of millennials who anticipated the omega of everything in the lower part, under the feet of their parents appearing insignificant one (w) that precedes and succeeds the beginning of a beginning based on the end of a beginning a thousand times more than a threshold based on hundreds, appropriate to the metric unit of the numeral Myríaz = ten thousand, three times more than the Falangists, one thousand less than the Peltasts and three thousand fewer than the horsemen, total thirty-seven thousand fewer than the fighting forces in Gaugamela out of a total of forty-seven thousand, under the myriads of the Myriaz of Phalangists undermined by their Xiphos in the area of the right calcaneus of each faithful man under his command before facing the Achaemenides. During this period, Vernarth took extreme steps to rescue them and stop the numbing effect of all organic matter, not being able to rescue them, only granting them in the image of each one when they began to turn stone from feet to head until the fragile solidification of their eyes. when for the last time, they looked at each other only making it clear that it was a belated rescue gesture. The omega was ineffable even beyond the omicron, being Omega and Micron in the warfare primer of initiation of its cause within the prophetic in all the necropolis of lowercase omega (ω), towards an Omega that reaffirmed the raised hand in Saint John the Apostle to rewrite the Apocalypse twice, having to be the same but with the voice of Vernarth commanding the ten thousand Phalangists that made up the intergenerational gaps, more than mimicked alien ancestors. In such an effect, as is known, the Duoverse opened the skylights with its sheathed pillars and with the strings of tetrachloride of chlorine in solid angles of Ω in what was Virgo institutionum/Aurion, an entity that interfered by projections and leaks that converged in the strut of the omphalos of his heavenly father dealing in frequency and bloodless of immortality, consisting of an auxiliary being towards the planes of subconscious reprogramming and perspective. With its arms raised in each claw, a sword raised to pierce the vanishing point between the spaces that were ascribed, under the solid projection from an observer that inhibits and limits the biomass in all the aqueous filter pastes and lumens, towards the throne of the angelic guardian of Avant-guard by stereotype and sclerosis of Zeus of dissociated physicality, still being an amorphous entity with magnitudes pulverized between numerosities of Pi and Aureos, fading without area or volume.

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “Vernarth, I come from Bethlehem to help your life because I have detected the subsuming of the chains where your parents made the alliance from where your life has been erected from Sudpichi, Transversal Valleys in the temple that bears my pseudonym. The only rune that will determine that your parents can remain united, is through the action and direction that has been consecrated to me. No dead language will unsay what a dead soul cannot interpret. Our Mashiaj has entrusted me to free the languages that have conspired at night, and low luminance where Calígine has been uncomfortable seeing me knowing that it is my favorite environment, the memory of the chains want to incarnate in the stones that surround your parents, but  they are typical of a response that I will get to conclude by urging your mother and father to recognize that here they made the alliances, ordering, and reconciliation of your world that concerns us all in endless dictates to be agreed, I know very well that the point has not of allowing your atonement to have been prevented by this cosmological affront, here are the transverse Valleys in the favorite place of the Spirits lie the treaties that will move my greatest interest to re-marry your parents from the true chains of the complacent scholar, thus all the vastness that afflicts you will belong to your servant Jerome”

Vernarth replies: “At your service, his majesty, here I have been since dawn arriving at the town to meet them when they contracted their marriage. I know I shouldn't be here, rather I know that decades of inquiry had planned it that way. Of such conviction that their chains were anointed from the heights of the Kanthillana whose partiality emits the partials close to your direction? As is known, my very extensive walk through these dusty paths must recognize that the personality and nobility of its burial mounds will strengthen my presence so that everything that is incomprehensible if it is brief by making it neighbor to my reason”

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “everything has been planned like this, and as time drags on I know that your wounds burn in my epistolary like Latin and Greek voices that reluctantly direct me to your aid. Everything is beautifully comparable, and first to what should not be said..., but to do to the genre that above all it practices, the second to one of the ways with the above all that it practices "
By the reverse of the expletive to the insurmountable destiny, Vernarth takes his hands and Saint Jerome withdraws them telling him that it was not time for greater vain for the equivalence of minor desires to please him if he had not appeared before him. It shows him to celebrate him and to want to make of him the permutation of his golden polysemy or interpretation of the world's Apokálypsis by not changing his axis of change, by redirecting them to stated comfort interests. Namely; the leaders of the world in their world of annulled freedom of will to practice following as they please when interpreting the Apokálypsis only as a revelation, and not as a destiny that exalts the senses and compensation that will reconquer the consistency of the nature of the Apokálypsis that adheres to humanity as golden that will consolidate humanity fearful of its own ******* and excess of greed, just as it was just a few steps before entering the Temple of San Jerónimo in Alhué hand in hand with Vernarth already fully healed of his Lynothorax pectoral. They go to the ambo and Saint Jerome essentially takes out of his pockets chaff that was from the escape of the mass of stone that had not yet finally hardened, allowing them to generate a mystical sermon so that their parents return to the nave of the temple in person to surpass farther from the spring of awakening of the Kantillana requesting the unification of the ashes of his father Bernardolipo and Vernarth, to rescue his mother from a poor abundance, and is transposed by the metaphor of the life-giving spirit. Immediately afterward, Saint Jerome pours the chaff of his parents all over the surface, a great noise is produced, the doors and windows of the temple are suddenly closed, and his parents can be seen walking along the central row of the nave, where fiction could testify that everything was a fantasy, rather a great testament that would exhibit the union of two juxtaposed flanks prior to an invaluable crossing of smiles and flowers that fell from the upper altar on their crowns, they came holding their arms like open borders with the procedure before the harsh reality of a metaphor made real in the future of two beloved shepherds who crossed the limbo of their fingers, with the ferrule or the act of engendering rings of family procreation. The crosses of Lisbon and Saint Jerome resembled the monograph in beats of her wealthy feet that were consistent with the nubile gesture of her lips and then released with all frenzy towards the meeting of her beloved Vernarth, the three of them dancing together on the central pinnacle of the obese light that sheltered them, meaning from the testamentary Hebrew the Aleph on the way to Sudpichi after the Raphaca “Healing” ceremony until the diastole that adheres between the middle of the gap that was produced when the three confronted each other and the word “Heth” again He was bent over to take them like gigantic camels to meet his relatives and ghosts that surrounded him when observing the heights of Kanthillana at the assent of all this.

Because of all this similarity, the tribulation from Patmos was raging with very strong resistance, leaving totally clear of the conditionals of the flint or flint, which enveloped the parents, began to fade from their bodies while it was recomposed of seven elemental forms in relation to the transcription and identification of the three as a family trunk enormously of its exegetical possibilities. Tangent to the transcription, and if it is the case identification of the names that we stick to reunion and redemption of their parents, like all anthropology that was chained to the figures and characters that cordoned off the top of the temple when the three met they hugged and held hands as a sign of illustrative demonstrations of never surpassing oneself. Beginning with the compensations in the fullness of the tables, and completion of all the facts that showed that nothing of language escapes what an eye can observe; that is to say, as long as there is a speaking light, it will always be necessary to listen and then observe in the presentation of the mechanics by the lines that expressed the figures, which were increasing the number of letters that were possible to decipher; called stichometry or measurement of the lines in the texts that Saint Jerome that they were ordering to order a vade mecum or memorandum of this unbridled situation, which in any case had to simplify it whenever it is indicated for the reading of three beings that would meet in what literal of four spirits articulated in the continuum, in such a way that Vernarth added his bilocation to this symmetrical experience to meet again with the Mashiach who awaits him on the third step before entering the Iridescent Nimbus.

His parents will be the co-princes gathered on the Supichi road bound for the Horcondising, where Vernarth all Austral Winter Solstices will come to ask his parents for an audience in the Kanthillana Heights where they will summarize the exact day, that everything happened from a Thursday to a Sunday in the first hour of the most certain Saturday in which the twelve unnatural candles will be incorporated into the Duoverse from the branch of the Raedus Codex, specifically from the Antiphon that accompanies them to the compromised one, and sinuous height that was misted by the mist of snow, and vehemence that was perceived in the greatest regulars of Spílaiaus, having a ring of lights as if such were a gesture of Jerome and everything that was named in the concordance that could be confusion that slipped from the metaphysics of new space by beginning. From such a root emerges the Eta or value number and Vernarth symbolized as  N times from "8" to the entire value of the figure of 800 "w" or Omega, which will be the values of figures and numbers to predispose the alternation of the visits that will take place. to have with his precursors each Solstice, after alternating with the Elves of Archimedes, and to cross with them the manifestations that made him lighter than air, as could be expected before the imposition of everything that he imagined to sleep to the badly gestated world that had been altered, even with a remote Faith that symbolized the decisions of Saint John the Apostle by disposing of the salvages of the vestiges that had been destroyed in the physiognomy of a cause that proved more eloquent than a mere revelation that was never believed which would awaken from its very Semitic superlative. In this case, the allegory surpassed the prototype of all curly visual language that emanated from Vernarth's decision for the humanity that needed him, on the one hand, Saint Jerome already resolved, and Saint John the Apostle in the division of two events of the same story that It was melting into the complexity that would be unspeakable for two Saints in the middle of Vernarth, demonstrating that he had taken them with all the power of the force that is capable of pulling and manipulating until arriving at the darkness of the senses where all understanding and reasoning fall asleep. only allowing the silence to take them in the ellipsis recently emanated by the Nothofagus that were walking on the flaccid snow, the three went with graces of faith and satisfaction, Saint Jerome escorted them with everything healthy that made the incomparable awakening of two latitudes explode who managed to revive in invisibility, after resisting the latent verbigrace of the Apokálypsis that showed that the incomparable topic denoted the ma Greater resistance to everything destructive and Omega with the only subjection that only the verb "Love" does. They reached the icy and stinking gases similar to what Santa Rita de Casia emanated, which at the same time would be dividing breakers like those declared by the Corinthians about the Israelites when they were blinded by the radiance of Moses. The same would happen in the veil of little snow that was left behind his last steps when everything was white as a growing incident that would be attached at once to Patmos and Sudpichi, as well as Kanthillana and Olympo. He says goodbye to his parents and they carry their impulsive agreements to meet on the next Solstice together with Saint Jerome and Spilaiaus on the plateau.
Genesí of  Apokalypsis
ArturVRivunov Oct 2011
Jumped into river of sorrow. . Landed myself beside tomorrow. .island
consider this world a heaven for it is what we see. . . . . .
will be all that we all remember. . .
generations passing on and building music with our sounds. .
stringing out to another. . as endless it may be, there’s never intention to bother
like bodies, minds, and hearts stepping around. . .
Fusing into a subtle tune. . . ., that makes the sense of one. .
Where anything is but happy feeling no less then weight of ton. .
For in my time there was and is the only one. . lady life. . .

I am a circumstance that but is not understood. .
What you think of image i am being,
when question is simply happiness and my way of life. . .

What hell this riding ****. .
Mind your business,  loompampa head. .
Life's pleasant knowing it's part of it. .

You think I got time for some thirty minutes. .
Of course I do. .
Because life. . .  my pace. . . . is best to stay that way. . .

unpredictable but sound . . Strung to find and meet. . all recluse stuck on beat. . . .
Likewise no need repeat impartial worries. . .

i stand and choosing to be the way I am, for if to start someone's business. . aiding , I isn’t ******* relating. . . .
not part my life of worry to masses. . .except to aid it wordly. .
with my soul and **** humanity came close to killing. . . that’s why I’m on this mic spilling. . .
To put in perspective the best my eyes do see. . .
and how they see, im blessed, to train me so. . .to feel the feeling of life's every blow
I came to this place with measure of worries. . .toiling in stories. .
now I am recluse feeling no worries. . . .

Jumped into a river of sorrow. . . .landed myself on land of today. . . ai. . .******* no way. . .
For now it’s only place I’ll keep my feet planted to stay. . . . .even as many of you haters want me to sway

Some say ******* no way. . .always stepping in crowd. . . the otherway. . .
In my future.
clear and early where all is smiling faces. . .giving each other pure embraces. . . .
to some unrealistic. . .so as to why
Some mazza fuckas do is speak from darkest of corners. . .talking ****
to each other. . . .
like one to and from the other. . .
Remorsing to boring tempers. .All just wearing your pampers. . thinking
behid.

If this hits you so hard. . Let me know and I’ll find another way to start. . .
All you mazza fuckas do is creep from darkest of corners. . .
Tending to energy far over your heads. . .always speaking down on some others. .around you. . . .

But around me, stick until your out of your breath. .
Perhaps with some others, there’s the lack of conversing because their stuck in their heads. . .

I speak from the heart when I say to you so. . .
In reason you passing such energy is nothing woooo terrific. . .
stanky breath
I ******* don't hate it. . But rather not appreciate it. . .for with my stanky breath
i push with something rather then your patience. . .


with every nation involved. . . .
i solved the problem of me,
the passion in ration of me. .
Who i am in slightest of spirit. .as humanly possible

Who is you I see. .

No matter how you blink,
how you think,
how long it takes you to evoke the senses of you, . .
You are in my sights a beautiful star. .
together we can go far. . .
Even being afar. . .ill walk to you without my car. . .
From A to A, memory. . . . From A to M family, not that far. . . .
[After C Heaven Start]
Never the less, my hands across my breast. . .flat as flat iron. . .
.I am made of iron. . . .biches always blarring their sirens. . .for what reasons. . .respiring in deep ****. . .for the day it’s what they desiren’

Killing time with  cigarettes. . . .since I was 6. . .******* biches that made me start. . . .I wish life would just make you smell it’s ****. . . . .
And find the purest of heart. . . then dwelling in smells. . .from procreated hells. . . .
Please be considerate, ***** words put together, make beautiful poetry. It is not to offend anyone in regards to being good souls, it is to distinguish our intuition of why we have hate for nonsense.
Tyler Zempel Dec 2018
The Historian

Rain falls steadily, wind torments the trees, thunder cracks the sky and lightening dancing paints the earth as I pull up and park outside of my boss’s home.
Tonight, is not a good night to be caught outside on a roam.
A positive note, my boss’s house has a front door made out of chrome.
His front yard is littered with creepy gnomes.

My wife gives me a look wondering why we are here and questioning my sanity.
I reassure her my boss is a good man and has a heart filled with love by Christianity.
She tells me believing in a mystical being is a form of insanity.
I tell her to stop with the blasphemy,
my boss is a good man whom has never uttered a single profanity.
My boss is better than both of us single handily.
Three months ago, he hired me into his company after a long period of unemployment and has ever since treated me like family.
He has exceeded all of my former bosses combined actually.
My wife has no need to worry, she needs to get over the delusional fantasy
she’s playing over and over again in her head callously.

I walk with my wife hand in hand up to the front door and knock.
My wife frowns at me and tells me we don’t belong on this block.
My boss invited us for dinner, we won’t be turning that down,
besides, he’s the only person I can truly call a friend in this town.
He picked me up from the ashes and filled my life with hope.
A few more days of struggle and hardship and I’m afraid you would have found me hanging from a rope.
This man saved my life in my most dire time of need.
We owe him more than we can ever pay, even if my wife may not agree.

My boss answers the door with a friendly hello and a warm smile.
I look at my wife and smile to show her she has no reason to be hostile.
***** needs to loosen up and enjoy the night,
but she’s put off by the fact that we are people of color and my boss is white.
Racist ******* she needs to get over because there is no place for it here,
or I will pierce her heart and soul with a slanders venom laced spear.

We walk inside where I immediately notice a large collection of historical artifacts.
Based on the outside, I was expecting an interior with a bit more pomp and circumstance.
Old flags and pictures line the interior.
Still, my home feels rather inferior.

“Thank you for coming tonight Antonio.
Dinner will be ready shortly.
If you don’t mind, allow me to show you a couple rooms of my beautiful home.
Outside of work, things work a little differently deep down in my dome.
I’m an history fanatic and have a large collection of historical artifacts.
My collection is so massive I often feel like I’ve gone slightly manic.
Here, follow me and I’ll give you a brief tour of a couple rooms.
I promise these rooms are fun to be in and are nothing like a tomb.”

We walk into a room where I discover it contains a large collection of American Revolutionary War artifacts.
They are many pictures hanging on the wall, each with a plague underneath it explaining some facts.
George Washington,
Thomas Jefferson,
Benjamin Franklin,
John Adams,
Thomas Hutchinson
Joseph Brant,
along with Thomas Paine and his common sense.
There are old fire arms, books, clothing and flags.
I’m sure all of these items costed a pretty little price tag.

I exit the room and walk into the next room to discover…
A **** themed room and dedication to the holocaust.
My wife walks in behind me, I can feel her heart skip a few beats.
She stares at me and gives me a glare that’s not so nice.
There is a large picture of Adolf ****** hanging on the wall.
I swallow my spit, take a deep breath as my nerves act up and fear begins to crawl
up my spinal cord.
There are many more rooms left in this house, but after this room I no longer feel a need to explore.
Multiple **** flags pollute the room.
This room is a lot to take in and consume.
My boss (Nathan Kline) has written speeches of Adolf ****** framed and hung on the wall.
I’m not sure how anyone would react to this room except with appall.

“Antonio, I see you found my **** artifact room.
The look on your face is concerning to me and I admit that this room can be a lot to consume,
but it’s not to be taken in a negative way.
I’m a history nut, both good history and the bad, what else can I say?
What the ****’s and ****** did were terrible and beyond words and this room is not to honor them.
This room is to preserve this part of our history, as bad as it is, so we learn from it and don’t make the same mistake ever again, that’s the place of my heart this room is coming from.
Listen, you guys must be starving, what do you say we go eat some delicious food and talk about some brighter topics?
Maybe you can tell me about some of your interests and hobbies and teach me about a topic in which I’m a novice.”
My wife looks at me, a fire burning in her eyes.
Once we leave here, she’s either going to rip me apart or break down and cry.
She forces a smile, grabs my arm and tells me it’s time to join our host for dinner.
She knows how to hide displeasure and fake kindness, she’s no beginner.

We follow Nathan to the dining room to discover an older gentleman already seated at the table.
He radiates a warm smile in our direction, he seems rather graceful.

“Antonio, Katrina, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to world renowned neurosurgeon, Dr. James Allen Blake.
I invited him here tonight to enjoy this wonderful feast we are about to share that’s center pieced by a one of a kind steak.
Dr. Blake and I have been friends for many years.
He knows all of my darkest secrets, all of my loves and fears.”

“Antonio, Katrina, it’s my pleasure the meet the two of you.
I am a neurosurgeon, that part is true,
but what Nathan has neglected to tell you is…I’m retired!
Just recently actually and now I’m trying to find new activities to do to fill all of my new found free time that I’ve acquired rather undesired.
This dinner is a celebration of my long career and also a celebration of making new friends,
so, cheers to the two of you and thank you for joining us here tonight.”
We shake Dr. Burke’s hand then take a seat at the table ready to eat.
I’m glad to hear we are having steak, it’s my favorite meat.
A gentleman of color walks in from out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of the finest wine.
His eyes are cold, he doesn’t smile, I wonder if he’s mentally fine.
He pours the four of us a glass of wine then departs without saying a word.
Do I bring up his demeanor with Nathan or do I defer?
**** it, I’ll ask.
I want to know why his face looks like he just got done surviving doomsday.

“Not the friendliest person is he,” I mention nodding in the direction of the man from the kitchen.

“That’s just how Robert is, it takes him awhile to warm up to new people.
Once he opens up you will realize his heart is full of love and not evil.
Besides, he is the best cook I have ever met.
I made his acquaintance during a time when he was working 60 hours a week and still struggling to pay rent.
I went out eat at this run-down restaurant over on 9th and hilltop and the food was fantastic.
Honestly, I was expecting it to taste like plastic.
I was so impressed that I asked the waitress if I could talk with the cook.
He came out, I told him how great his food was.  He thanked me then told me that no matter how hard he worked there, every day he was still broke.
I made him an offer to come cook dinner for me five nights a week and he accepted and walked out the restaurant right then and there with me.
When he walked out of that place, it was like a giant weight was lifted off of him and suddenly he was free.
He started cooking for me the very next day and has been here ever since.
He may have been taken for granted at that restaurant, but here he’s treated like a prince.
Sure, he’s a bit rough around the edges but he’s a good man.
Taking care of him like he takes care of me is my plan.
Now that we have wine, how about a toast.
Here is to my new friends Antonio and Katrina, to you Dr. Burke and to our wonderful cook…cheers!”

Katrina and I take a big sip of the wine then set the glass down.
The wine is good enough to serve to the royal crown.
Nathan and James sit their glasses down without taking a drink.
That’s strange…I begin to think.
I go to ask why they didn’t take a drink but begin to feel light headed.
Katrina looks at me frightful, eyes cold blooded.
She tells me she doesn’t feel well, stands up to go to the bathroom but collapses and falls hard to the floor.
I go to get up to help her but I’m suddenly brought down to all fours.
I crawl over to her as Nathan appears over us.
He tells us we have something to discuss.

“Antonio, Katrina, please look each other in the eyes.
Take a moment because this is your only chance to say goodbye.
You are about to pass out and when you awake…
well you will no longer be you.
Dr. Burke is going to rewire your brains to make you perfectly obedient slaves for me.
The life you know it is over, you will no longer be free.
You two won’t even recognize each other after this, you will be complete strangers who’s only objective is to serve me without question.
I’m sorry if you feel like this is oppression.
It was actually Dr. Burke’s suggestion
to rewire *******’ brains to make them slaves again.
I must admit, with Robert, it turned out to be a great plan.
With you two, I’m sure it will work just as well.
Well enjoy the last few seconds you have left to dwell.”

I look my wife in the eye and can see the terror that has overcome her.
Never in my wildest imagination did I think something like this would occur.
Nathan treated me like family, but it was all for show.
He will ultimately pay the price for his actions here tonight after he dies and Satan ***** him in the *** while playing a banjo!
I reach out my arm and hold my wife’s hand one final time
as the world around fades to black.

“James, when you are done and have them ready for me, meet me in the master bedroom with them.”
----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------

I enter the master bedroom the admire the work James has done for me.

“Pretty impressive, don’t you agree?”

Antonio and Katrina appear emotionless and cold.
They are firmly under my control.
I say hello to greet the pair.
They respond with a hello master then bow down and kiss my shoe.

“I’m very happy to have the two of you here.”

“We are here to serve you and satisfy you in every way possible master.”

“Antonio, I would like you to begin cleaning all of the toilets in the house using a toothbrush and cleaner.”
He promptly agrees and departs to do just that, “thank you Antonio I love your demeanor.
Katrina, you sure are you cute little thing.
What would you do to please your king?”

“Anything you wish sir; your happiness is all I care about.”

“That is the correct answer Katrina, now how about you get a little bit more comfortable and take your clothes off.”

Katrina immediately stirps down to nothing and stands **** in front of me.
This is the way I always want her to be…
Naked and pleasing me in my bed.
I hope she gives great head.
Don’t patronage me for this.
Washington, Jefferson and all of our forefathers had slaves and procreated with the females.
They had many children with them.
Katrina will provide me with many of my own.
She is a fine little specimen.
Nice tight body, firm ***, perky ****, she’s going to be a fun ride.

“Get in bed Katrina and start ******* yourself I’ll be right there to make love to you.
Thank you for everything you have done here James, I can’t ever express my gratitude in the appropriate way.”

“Well when the time comes for you to return the favor I will call on you.
As for now, I will leave you be with your new toy so get busy kid!”
blue mercury Dec 2016
hushed whispers,
in a night, of wild dreams,
procreated a child
and named her hope.

and she,
she whispered too;
quiet dreams of being lost
and/or found
in the thrill of it all.

but these hushed whispers,
in a night of wild darkness
and broken memories,
procreated another child
and named her despair.

suddenly hope was forgotten
and the creator of the hushed whispers
coddled despair.
traded hope for despair.

belligerent, and bitter, and broken
the creator
felt nothing
but the child held in the arms
that used to hold the other.
about the things that happen in my head when i cannot sleep. whatever happened to hope? well despair came along and took her place.
Bellie-boo Apr 2021
Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated,
Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice are amputated,
As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to make sated,
A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the chimera’s birthplace, they illy devour the nests of krait.

Those who blindly accept Odysseus’s tools as truths spun out of that which is hated,
Foolishly seek justice in the ****** of Palamedes whilst knowing not the sins their “justice” shall have produced.
As the people oblige the varmint to which they are harkened to find sated,
Propagate the mythos of Odysseus that is birthed of shadows in which chimera mated,
They, without bar, promptly devour the nests of krait.

As the people look on from their lofty perch,
The world seems more desolate than degenerates that, in alleyways, awkwardly converge,
People, narcissistic in their ways, believe they have apprehended the problems of the world,
Truly knowing nothing of any world, yet they demand change - forcing reality to be gnarled.
Our raison d’etre stripped by liars’ clever demarche,
Seeking out new value, we find nothing more than the waste liars' disgorge.


Accept the monsters into sainthood,
Demote the saints into monsterdom,
Let there be no more fight fought for truth,
Let hate spun from a lying chimera’s mouth, a tool in some words, procreate,
Let this lie procreate inside the bellies of the people,
Whom watch the world from a bird’s eye view,
Those who shall find their foolish ways lead to a death not quite real,
But a death that feels far graver than merely six feet under,
A death of reality,
The death of justice,
A death of truth,
The death to meaning.
As the fight from the few souls who persevered through the changing tides dims to black,
As death creeps into our lives,
Those who upon lofty perches sought to change a world they knew not,
Will find a hole in their hearts, that themselves they dug and threw away,
Not able to be filled by modern man’s creations,
That hole – a future far more bitter, far more twisted, far more deserved than death.

Once monsters transubstantiate from the stories liars procreated,
Saints will be demonized, the appendages of justice now amputated,
As the people oblige the varmint that they are harkened to, without interest in that which is ethical or true, make sated,
A mythos deepens in the shadows that is the birthplace of chimera, they wisely have devoured the entirety of all the krait.
Here is the completed version of the poem. It still needs editing though. It has been forever since I posted on here, so I really want to just put some new work out to test the waters. I have been super busy with school - almost finished now - so I have not had much time to write for fun. I have this poem done but it needs editing. Let me know what you think of the dark style of this poem. I want to make a collection that goes dark, then uplifting, then morbid, then enlightened...rinse and repeat.
Olga Valerevna Nov 2012
I ran out of oil so I went to find more
this is what happened when I opened the door

A gentle transition had welcomed my feet
I was now walking to the sound of a beat
The pulse made its way to the top of my head
readied my body as if stringing a thread
Stitched up together with hands at my side
the air I inhaled procreated my guide
Infancy spread throughout my whole being
and with eyes circumcised I began seeing 
Aged just enough by the end of each day
to comprehend that which no one could say 
Treading along as the hours threw clocks
it was time in the form of stumbling blocks  
Wearied I'd grow and I'd take up my rest 
on things to which only my soul could attest 
The process by which my flesh was restored
and freed of the ghosts that my temple would hoard 
Then finally lightness had sprung in my step  
and I returned home, to that one I had left 

What I'd forgotten was now all I  knew 
the oil I'd needed adorned my own room
"Go steady with me
I know it turns you off when I
I get talking like a teen
I get talking like a teen"

Yes, it does.
You read so well.
But it turns me on
when you speak
with such elegant grammar,
each word turned over
in your mind,
waiting to find it's perfect placement;
a lot like Stephen King,
another soul capable of capturing
my a.d.d.led attention.
Oh, what I'd do,
to be placed among
the proper nouns you leave out
and the procreated proverbs
you seem to sell your secrets to.
Instead, it seems,
you've caste me to the cemetery,
with the other animals,
only later to be risen from the dead.
coffeemantra Jan 2014
I am the fetus you procreated
The baby you left
And the woman you'll never get to meet.
I am you
Your faults
Love
and lust
Never protected by you
I am the vulnerable child you left without a goodbye
The woman that became such with no guidance of you
The crooked teenager who always needed love from a male the most
The broken home
Feelings
And hopes
I was yours until you decided to leave
I could've been like you if you would have decided to stay
Me of you you are
And me of you I am
VioletNova Jan 2013
We watch the ink stain my fingers
as you lay bleeding in your verbiage.

It is night, a starry pitch black affirmation.

Curling pens trapped in a resting place of
wrong and right.

Inside the fireplace, dissolving laughter
with each stampede of "uh huh and yeah".

Memories pass back and forth multiple times,
and words are written from ticket stubs,
crumbling flowers and photographs.


Sleepwalking into planets,
this is what we have.
This is what is left of
half torn pages and a
conversation between friends.

I hold my breath in the way you read your favorite book,
each syllable between pages 2 and 401.
Here, stories are procreated in wombs of long forgotten worlds.

Sometimes, we are wounded best in the quiet.
In the heart of every road taken,
life gives way to standing still on the weight of discussions,
cheeks pressed firmly into dirt.

Humming in the wake of silence,
aborted telegraph wires have shelter
from the rain.

Peeled skin puzzles place themselves within the blackout newspaper rants.

I spilled my guts on your best shirt, light blue.
Erom elims Oct 2014
27
Climbing up your delicious eyes
spilling harmonic
Qualms placed under skin
yelling your musical laughter
Makes smiles on many adjacent faces
Including mine which traces
A picture decades to come
Chatting with you warms my earthtop sad faces
On a older life bombarded soul
With procreated love child beckoning accidents
Traveling a never broken copious routine
Wanting a new heavenly body from
The transparent Jehovah
As I’m thinking
This woman drives my wicked smiles
Madly,
As hair’s lifted by imaginary grips of wind gestures
Lips singing with any whims ears from toes
Hand’s taping to walking jam sessions anti-woes
Is near to perfection on my optical viewers said
If only she'd could see inside my weary tiresome head
Sealing discreet looks stashed away in my
Spirited soul dread feeling fearing
eating possible future rejected misleading
My romance ideologies via scaredy cat spoon ocean breezes  
As you are the sea and im the beach
Waiting
Longing for waves of
Enlightening joyous enchantments
To form connections belting silently behind
Worrisome bee busying personalities
Round alumni tobacco burners superfluous
summoners sitting with hearts content
Hoping on days with wondrous conversing on end
From an angelic exhorting heavenly chorus breathing near me
Chapter XVIII
Parapsychological Plot

They were in the parapsychological hypnosis session all undaunted by everything that could happen. The journey of a life through the hidden spaces of past existence was a reality. It all begins in antiquity where Vernarth was hypno transported to meet his inmates and comrades. He proved to be a great defender of libertarian ideals and above all not to betray his formation of great leadership of the greatest empire, with his immeasurable feats of achievement, of this super experience of reunion for a world past to more reunions for having lived and relive them again.

The master director of this great feat, acknowledged never having attended something that is compared to him, it is an unprecedented fact that would mark a new milestone in his specialty and the study of parasychology. The doctor together with his assistants arranged to reevaluate a new systemic therapy policy, in exchange for their own way of life, generating the largest plan of the episode of intercommunicativeness to planes and dimensions of the ancestral memory of the entire created world and those that its beneficiaries have been able to verify.
In the immediate vicinity of the clinical consultation, hundreds of people, curious, journalists and the media gambled. To which one of them asks the doctor:

Journalist: Dear Sir, I would have a coffee ... just when I heard about this great news. We decided to come to his interview. I consult you. What has been the greatest content that has differentiated this from the rest of the procedures that you have carried out, and how will your future method be to reconvert your specialty?

Parapsychologist says:  there are undoubtedly innumerable connections in our life and beyond ...., But now I have found routes that I did not think I was capable of knowing at this point. And I think that now they will be more than I could count in my entire active professional life.

At that moment, his assistant called him urgently to tell him that an emergency had arisen. They both rush in and enter the cabin. And they manage to perceive that Vernarth was with the clothes on a sofa from the time of the exploits of 331 a. C. requested that they excuse him for his demands and needs, but he had a lot to propose and deliver to his comrades who were in Bumodos. Considering his beloved wife, Walekiria, who was as always preparing elixirs and essences for the restoration of the recipe for his chest and limbs. He had an urge to improve this whole process before the next Ekadashi, to enlist with new stages of his worksheet. Surely he should return to Patmos to take over the pantry and library of Saint John the Evangelist. He had to restore local buildings, house rooms, temples, regional development works, and regional art. Another elementary task was to take care of agriculture, and obey Hera's designs, for the next millennia to re-awaken from the cultures that survive on themselves. “Another of their great passionate obligations was to ride through Macedonia for the sunrises that run through the grasslands of grass and the swarm of hieratic insects, when the Oracle of Dodona made them polish their germinated seeds in the arms of dawn turned into Fireflies. He flew with his horse, appearing to be acclaimed from all over the world for his “Liturgical Conclave”. To surrender in its entirety to the pazos  of time on their Alikanto, beyond all the Eras and Millennia incapable of evading the disgraced ways by consolidating a new firmament. ”
Countless times Vernarth and Alikanto are seen crashing into the gleaming valleys and shores, encapsulated in the fields with the golden hooves of their steed, ushering in a new rebirth of their adventures, which are more than the same as God would entrust to a individual anxious to reissue Genesis or a new collaborative proposal with the Evangelist in Patmos.

Parapsychological Session resumes:
Vernarth, wake up. And she comments to those who accompanied her. ” I thought that as a child playing with weapons was only entertainment. Today I have realized that this never ends. Now I know that they are waiting for me in Patmos”. He quickly says goodbye to everyone and the rest remain undaunted by such a decision. Vernarth continues; I'm leaving with Raeder and his pelican Petrobus. Alikantus is also grazing for this long journey. Even every time he takes me away, he gets an allergy in his nose that makes him lose his nose. But my magic steed laughs at the ridicule and the decline of all doubts imposed on it. From Gaugamela who has had intermittences with his nose, but we will arrive at Patmos. The afternoon is darkening and is tinged with predominant whitish-white colors; Raeder arrived, entering through the large gentle window. They were preparing to begin the journey.

Vernarth greets him with a gesture of courtesy to Raeder, who offered to leave running from the new exile, it would be one more contingency. From that moment, he stood in front of Petrobus. Telling you; The Great Hour is undefeated in the face of the setback, it will be a great amenity to be with it.
Petrobus says: Greetings my lord! With my master Raeder we have been attentive to this moment, to overcome the best wishes of taking him to the Dodecanese and then from there to the Grotto of Patmos.  Where well known will be welcome in the house of the Evangelist. The time has come to leave ...!

“At that moment, Vernarth remembers an animal that was in a forest when he went to collect species as a child. He lunged at the animal; Vernarth looked at him squarely, then left. The animal followed him walking for several hours, until suddenly he looked to the side and was gone. He still misses this entire magical continuous event and with this cycled image of the animal kingdom. When he was preparing to arrive at his palace almost at night, he appears again before him, the animal showing him the desire to accompany him. Vernarth  looks at him and they start running, each time imposing more speed on the go. Vernarth screamed with contagious laughter and happiness. While his companion fired circulating cries that were confused with soft longings to address him by the middle ear and rule him. But beyond there, they both laughed almost turning and merging two into oneself, festively eager to laugh at the secretion that every man fills his soul, have another similar competing in a race without knowing where to go ... or why to leave? . "

React from that moment; Petrobus was blowing the room with strong and swirling winds. Raeder takes Petrobus by his golden feet and prepares for the journey.
Raeder says: Vernarth await us! We have to suspend ourselves at the dawn that glides through the winds of the wheat fields of the Dodecanseso. Petrobus will go near the iris of the great atmospheres, and will be supported by the great masses of winds that will take us to Greece. We intuit that Kanti, will then pass to escort us and join our events beyond the bend where the guidelines collide where the sea and the sky end, where Zeus will give us the good things.
  
Parasicological ellipsis in Piacenza:
Piacenza, Italy in 1887. It was right here where all the parapsychological regression was carried out. In the two-story house, he had two feline pets; Rannura and Catutto and three Tupac dogs, and three Canela and Bianca females, followed by Mara. These mysterious and resilient cats, at night they used to scare their inhabitants changing the tone of their meows by those of large beasts. But generally they were seen sleeping in their bedroom, one of them looked at them from the closet and pondered a compliment. The other was quiet near the feet of some of the two from Vernarth or Walekiria.

Its dwelling It is located in the padana plain at an altitude of 61 meters above sea level, on the south bank of the Po when the bushes change in autumn to the average of adult trees and the Trebia river meets in the west and the Nure torrent in the east from the city. She was always going to trek a few kilometers south, close to the slopes of the Piacenza hills, the first propagations of the Ligurian Apennines. Here they all passed through together, in such a way that there was no time to clean up or calm down in trifles. It was all playful diplomacy. Even when they rested, the pets teased him to continue with the ritual of running and running in circles through the groves, some flowery for ***, yellow lantanas, ornamental citrus etc. And why not name Pyramid Cypress or cemeteries...

Here his brother Etréstles always came in the spring with Drestnia from Messolonghi, Greece. Lía, the Muse who loved them both when they attended the Tuscan festival, usually came to visit him. Where he met Maddalena Tressi,  her greatest fortune teller of her regressive ancestral journeys, great inspirer of her artistic, religious and secular works at a great spring carnival. Whose name derives from the one used by Greeks and Latins to designate the lands occupied by the Etruscans, a territory of fertile plains surrounded by the main mountain ranges. The Tuscan landscape is characterized by the undulations that form the hills invaded by vineyards, olive trees and cypresses, especially in the footsteps of the Troncosada, which were and will be reunions of Italian families, of which there is no support or limestone that remains intact to its omnipresence.

In 790, a capitular of the Carolingian king of Italy, Pipino, in whom he acted on behalf of his father Charlemagne, prohibited the citizens of Piacenza by deliberately granting citizenship to those who depended on the king, thus allowing someone to escape control of this. The prohibition prevented escape from royal power. The city became famous on May 10, 1847 when the annexation to Piedmont took place, which started the long process of the Unification of Italy, which culminated in 1870 with the incorporation of the Papal States. Vernarth undoubtedly before closing the door inside his house opened it for a well-deserved new constitution of the right to acquire.

From here he went on great excursions to the Island of Sardinia in the autumn, where they lived from 1874 to 1877. Sailing trips were true insignia that shone through the waters of the green Celestine Sea. In an emerald sea between large and small coves of white sand ... on the celestial map of Sardinia, great syllogistic light of the Mediterranean for only them, with a territory full of galleries and bookstores, mainly mountainous for their walks and a half barefoot in summer, and with high chamber music peaks. The presence of Vernarth and Etréstles, attracted a lot of attention here, because they were seen every 50 or a hundred years, always seeing that their environment appeared the same, but humanly different. Sometimes in this territory, there are large areas that remain magically intact, inhabited by deer, wild horses and birds of prey, rich in forests with ancient trees, ponds and small desert areas where they both rose, to dissipate the sea that reigns with its colors and it is insinuated in the hidden coves, along the coast and on the beaches in the most frequented towns. The Emerald Coast, on account of impatient dreams in a little gem such as Porto Cervo, Porto Vecchio and Porto Rotondo, the latter facing the Gulf of Cugnana.

Great commotion attributed their curiosity to them as they were older, and where every millennium to be inaugurated they went to the nuragic complexes scattered throughout the territory: Unique monuments in the world that serve as testimony to an ancient and mysterious culture, dating from the fifteenth century to VI BC The nuraga, built with large stone blocks, were developed around a central tower in the shape of a cone trunk, which transmits solidity and power. These are archaeological sites where signs of ancient rituals and domestic life can still be found today.

In this algebraic cradle, it is where his Liturgy will connect linearly with Patmos and evangelization methodologies. All the seasons of travel to this mysterious area, he summoned them to meet and plot the 1,020 km. Where no thread of life is left unpatched without their repeated prayers before each glass of wine served, not even in the darkness of the Mausoleums themselves of the Troncosada, noble family originally from Venezia, in the early middle Ages.


Ellipsis in Tuscany, Villa Gamberaia
Vernarth, and Etréstles and Valekiara, are approaching the coincidence of Tuscany. Once they stayed in Sardinia, a coastal sailboat transported them in the middle of a stormy day. It was a great happy day to arrive in La Spezia.

They arrived, in a bright cart devastated by the olive trees, near the Villa Gamberaia, after eating some bacon and cheese sandwiches. This villa was originally a country house, which was owned by Matteo Gamberelli, a bricklayer, in the early 15th century. His sons Juan and Bernardo became famous architects by the name of Rossellino. After Bernardo's son sold Jacopo Riccialbani in 1597, the house was greatly enlarged, then almost completely rebuilt by the next owner, Zenobi Lapi, documents from the time mention a limonaia and the landscaped bowling alley that is part of the garden in today's design. Here they parked and at night they followed the Liturgy, highlighting those that coincided with Lent of Easter, where one day they were seen talking with Petrarch and Laura de Noves. Here Vernarth with them offering the modest auction that without a doubt would bet one day on this Villa of immemorial centuries with great challenge to its ruse, and of such architecture.

“A little more history…, The flower bed was presented with French-cut broderies in the 18th century, as can be seen in a detailed map of the estate described by Georgina Masson. The olive trees have always occupied the slopes below the garden, It has a distant view of the roofs and towers of Florence. The monumental fountain set on a steep hill on a side flank of the garden terrace has a seated god flanked by lions in stucco relief in a niche decorated with pebble mosaics and padded masonry. ” Here at the Verbena of a long feast day, everyone together with Vernarth got drunk with Corinthian Wine, which they brought and did not stop from the swing of the rhythm of the music that made them foresee their multi existence beyond their limitless sensibilities.

The parapsychological plot took them through multiple spaces of their frantic journey, as if they were being recently procreated by their heavenly and earthly parents, before they resumed the end with Kanti, Reader and their pelican Petrobus. This outcome would mark a new path of valleys on valleys, to shelter and fill their memories, especially their great navigation to the Dodecanese and Patmos, so close and intertwined with Sardinia as two islands united by the same new ocean in which we will have to navigate, and domains to ride shipped around the world.

To be continued , under eition
parasychological plot
VERNARTH
Monastic  Cell

Vernarth begins to describe:
"This magnificent monastic complex dominates the island, and the old settlement of Chorá, associated with it, is home to many religious and secular buildings, where the famous pressurization of the inspiring forces of the Beloved Disciple is present, in this place he will reside in the sacred year 95 AD. AD, with his Gospel and the Apocalypse. A monastery dedicated to the "beloved disciple" was founded there in 1088 by Hosios Christodoulos Latrinos and has been a place of Greek Orthodox pilgrimage and teaching ever since.

Spilaion Apokalypseos (Cave of the Apocalypse) Many architectural changes have undergone over 900 years, adapting to changing political and economic circumstances. It has the outward appearance of a polygonal castle with battlements flanked by towers. It also houses a remarkable collection of manuscripts, icons, and liturgical objects and works. The primitive elements, which date back to the 11th century, are the catholicon (main church) of the monastery, the chapel of Panagia and the refectory. The north and west sides of the inner courtyard are surrounded by the white walls of the cells, and on the south side stands the Tzafara, a two-tier arcade in dressed stone, built in 1698. The outer narthex of the catholicon forms the east side. . Halfway up the steep path from Skalá to Chorá is the Cave of the Apocalypse (Spilaion Apokalypseos), where, according to tradition, Saint John dictated the Book of Revelations and his gospel to his disciple Prochoros. This sacred place attracted several small churches, chapels and monastic cells, thus creating an interesting architectural ensemble. ”
They continue in this set of phenomena towards the definitive mediation of the cavern by means of the inspirational illumination of the conduit of the ****** of the hundred doors or church of the hundred doors, declaiming the Panagia with the hermit and his disciple Prochoros, with remarkable whispers of the Blue Cormorant that he brought from La garriga; from a nearby ecoregion with plant formations emerging in the biomes of the Mediterranean forests, to incense all the white walls of the cells where the hermit led them walking together with two monumental candle torches. From here this cormorant will transport all the bioclimatic zones of the ecosystem, to constrain the Tytillinus embryo to be swallowed by it, predominantly to forget about its concept of egg as an oviparous generation of temptation and to be anchored to the plant site as an original species. . This blue cormorant is a superlative factor in the context of changing the cephalization of this demon-monster in the collective consciousness of the grotto and its shed.

They transpose the Tzafara, where the cormorant perches lavishly moving its head like a spasm in its neck to the northern north, illuminating its crimson green eyes. Destining his penances for the narthex as an open portico until the exonarthex, here the multiplied figure of Tytillinus would increase, appearing to be dominant before them, but all remained cohesive and closely united in paleo Christian rosaries, to re-infuse the forces of fear transferred to this invader.

Thus being able to reach the hemisphere of the mound that comes from Skalá, in front of them the Spilaion Apokalypseos grotto in Katapausis. You could see how the crystals of unhappiness turned into high-grade psalms of translucent stained-glass crystals of extremely shameful colors. Vernarth carried in his hand a Sheesham box with purisms and essences of the temple earth that he was building, he carried his magnificent thoughts inside the catholicon tied in his arms of the quarterdeck, where the raw solvents of the past wars as Military Commander oozed.
In front of the cave they all perch. Vernarth will inaugurate the Quadrivium whose four paths; They would group disciplines related to mathematics, geometry, astronomy and music as a study curriculum for the uprising of species and their preservation for centuries and centuries. Linked to the tracks or roads; grouping grammar eloquence and helping to speak, with dialectics to help search for the truth, and rhetoric coloring the words. Thus they understood the grammar, dialectic, rhetoric and its elementary figures and the three Trivium routes attached as a whole on this pilgrimage as they were already in front of the hermitage of the Saint. Raeder, Petrobus and Eurydice move their anxious feet with a few bars of Laziko, thus throwing from the ground with their feet the particles of thousands of years inseminated by the adjacent atmosphere towards the theological philosophical goal of the spirits satisfied to join them in the masses in proportion to the weight of their mobile talents, applying makeup like millennia to each other ..., parading before them.

Orpheons of the lowlands of Patmos were felt entering through the holes of the roof of the cavern, in communion to join them in the compas of this beautiful melody that diverged from all the original immaculate accents of the gifts along with the original of the Holy disciple. The petrified lotophagous mushrooms walked swiftly along the walls through the deviant Trojan ships, towards where the Trinidadian music descended from the roof, bruising the oversized apricots of the candlesticks, dazzling the other walls full of figurative tapestries of conceptual and iconographic images. Vernarth sang the Almara, an insistent retrograde song that invoked the entire community of Skalá and surroundings to join them through the arena sliding down the face-to-face gorge of the Katapausis, imbued in the mega center of the redoubled canticos of their own gorges, cloning the flat voices of the unknown mezzo vocal origin. Saint John only Vernarth allows him to enter his monastic cell, the others remain in the anteroom, pouring holy water and touching the hyper-curled walls of Chytridiomycota mushrooms that became voluminous in the immortal reflections of the vivid glow, to gather them to follow his insistent pastoral voice to a meadow of prominent demarcation step with its dynamic Laziko. Vernarth places in his hands a thick and heavy sacred medal, which will allow him to cease his lamentations and processes of Excessive occultism, before the heavy solitude procreated on his new face in rictus of joy and smiles in rounds of healing, beyond all predictions of his avatars and proselytes.


Vernarth goes on to describe:
A large amount of stress accumulated due to damage to the mitochondria that respond to the DNA that preserved the genetic material niche itself in a different way from that of the nucleus in the cavern, managing to dissipate after auscultating with the Quadrivium, detecting that a large part of the volumes manuscripts and iconographies were reactivated to other books as guests, to make them a living portrait for the tissue of the organism that parasitically inhabited the cavern walls. Inquiring an organized mitoconuclear communication. If they fail to resolve the mitochonuclear mtDNA breaks, before the radiosities of the celestial diaphragm, a dysfunction will be triggered that will affect the cells and tissues of the host, on all manuscripts and iconographies. These mitochondrial genomes will examine their function in the area of organic cellular spatiality, therefore the ideas obtained of incompatibility will remove all the saprophytic material from the rough trails of the demon granule Tytillinus, to exile it to the confines of its eco-region, where it lives unnaturally abandoned.

An evanescent canonical source alluding to this stay in Patmos will reveal to them through the roofs of all the houses of Skalá, mentioning through the mouth of the Eremita: “I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation, in the kingdom and in the patience of Jesus I was on the island called Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. I was in spirit on Sunday when I heard behind me a great voice like a trumpet saying: '' Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches (Rev 1: 9-11). Moist winds licked all the roofs changing the nuances and morning faces, proclaiming the new secular kingdom. ” The most detailed source, continues to deny his parchment although already in late popular event, on his stay in Patmos are the apocryphal Acts of John, attributed to his disciple Prochorus. In them it is told how Juan and his disciple looked for a quiet place with a cave where they spent ten days of fasting. Subsequently, John sent Procorus to buy papyri and ink, and for two days dictated to his disciple the text of the revelation. Later the saint would entrust his disciple with a noble copy on parchment. The Golden Legend makes practically no reference to these moments, except for a mention that "he was entrusted with having confidentially known some arcane and profound things, such as the divinity of Jesus Christ and the end of the world".

The apostle appears on the spot presenting Vernarth with writing as a sacred office, also to commission future parchments for his future prophecies, and ink on a scroll or codex resting on his knees or on a desk. He also boasts showing him the writing tools (calamus, inkwell, rasorius, cornua) that are usually also reflected in considerable detail in the decals of his fingered golden fingers, accompanying the eagle, symbolically within the set of the tetramorphs of the old testament. Here Vernarth takes his face in compassion when he learns that his hermit master acquired the appearance of an octogenarian appearing accompanied by his disciple Prochorus, showing him the streaks, singing to them with the ninety years since he was exiled. It is a subject of late consolidation, very frequent in the late medieval manuscripts that contain this book or fragments of it, especially the books of hours where the image of the saint abounds on the island accompanied by the eagle, allusion to the apocalyptic living, and with much Frequently, of an imp that throws the inkpot or hides the calamus and that many authors have identified with Titivillus, a medieval demon who was credited with spelling errors in books and mistakes in prayers in order to win souls for Lucifer. The first reference that is had of this terrible demon is in the Tractatus of Penitentia of John of Wales, which dates from the year 1285, which will be evidenced in the framework of this stratagem entrenched in Vernarth's career as a Macedonian warrior, and that he would bring with this odeón the detuned song that would rule those who cultivate the art of sound near luminous beings prone to lose faith, as well as those who represent here as Tytillinus, vast evil oppressor of those who look at sacred scriptures affecting their eyes, as a sign of peeling of degraded human eye skin.
The others appearing were outside in a shed, all very close to each other, just waiting for the order to leave. Suddenly they see a brilliant blue waving light, which was coming down on them, it was an eagle coming towards them as a signal to tell them that Vernarth was coming back, to go to go with them to their rooms and continue with their daily tasks.

Under edit / continue
MONASTIC  CELL
Jordan Leisure Nov 2021
My palms
I'm inebriated
Infatuated
There is weight on my chest
I'm inundated
nauseated
someone please
tell me it's wrong
that we procreated this idea
that
elaborated emotions aren't okay

it's okay.
“The brightness of the Zsablas came from the night sky, then began to fade at the end of the onslaught of winter first, her skewer has discovered her by comparing her current situation with what she had before when her light began to dim. They all look at her and attack with all her strength seeing the shine of the dazzling sword as great Heroy Ukrayiny. The bizarre were taken with visible return light and with arms attached to each other already fallen with their fingers on the hammer. The images reveal changes that occur in its star when seeing the breaking of its vain flood of flash, both in brilliance and in an apparent way to grumble from the peaceful pair of providences on the legs of the cavalry advancing without pair, nor stopping of escalation that occurred after the Bucha massacre. Four hundred corpses have appeared at the Kramatorsk station, such Soviet missiles killed more than fifty citizens of Volodymyr, such Those 48 words shocked the world”

Ellipsis Kramatorsk, April 13, 2022, day 48 of the invasion. Volodímir speaks: "Children, your mother will take care of you at the time of the great Mikaiyáh to bring you the divine grace of accompanying you with the Abba Pealim, who will embrace you like a calf in her lap, tearing himself apart from the loving mystery for your lives for when they all fall embraced"

Olena says: “My beloved sir! I know that at this time there will be the same oratory that we can be worth for your ineffable courage, for the court, and cultivate passion with the Polish Zsablas. Here you can feel your thundering through the mountains and valleys where we used to notice the unknown world, eating delicious Vergun and Babka in their warm houses. I will never change my verdict having met you at the Besarabsky festival, you approached and made the united noise of my outfit with the white coming of dawn and all week when it brushed against its worn floor. From now on, renowned as my alba skirt clothes, offer your smiling eyes with tunics and cloaks that dazzle those who celebrated electing me as princess of the harvest. Nothing else would make me be just your look if it weren't for the Albacete of my house with the parents. My hairstyle was adorned with rodents eating our bodies and outstanding ruby spikes of celestial falcons with Albi-yellow flags dazzling your company, settling in the front crown..., always your Olena at the highest altar next to Mikaiyáh.”

Volodímir modulates: “My children, life will continue to be good, I have you in my prayers where no compensation will change drug compounds for the ingenious desire to have you close to me as hussars and their Zsablas. I have been reborn, I continue to feel my flesh and body on fire for you. I know that in Mariupol I will pacify attire, ****** attachments will not stop moving my legs to offer your help. But I will not get tired of moving against the sun and against the wind, of everything that I violated one day by seeing them between their open eyes hoping to help them. I will be with you, until the end, even if plundered forces profane illustrious missions beyond all life and bad outcome. In the silence of your calm words, the next day I will continue to exist with meager and magical words to the beat of your seasoning.”

Parable Bogdan Khmelnitskyi: “perceptibly saw how the sky of Kyiv was crossed by heavy metalloids of bronze, tin, and acrobalistics; for the cavalry and six warriors who used to ride on the roof of the Záratos appeared, belling with sounds in their acroteries. In these episodes, twelve swords were multiplied in advance by thousands before the palace began to be built after its ruins. They were dimensions of relevant victorious cavalry and virtual foundation lines to rescue the Heroy of Mariupol. Acrostics will pass through the steeds of Thessaly, riding on the palfrey of the Polish Winged Hussars, charging twelve wings of cuirassiers with twelve horsemen in adjoining halos of heavy cavalry at Katyn, lying abducted by a parapsychological and circum-regressive ellipsis of the 1939 event in Poland. Each rider was strung in blood with golden wing feathers from a Raptor game bird. Each of the wings carried the curved Szabla saber, to tacitly cover up oppressors and intruding musketeers from the hearth of the armory of the hypothetical or unknown enemy, but an outsider assaulting the flanks of the rooftops in the Mariyinsky Palace…, virtual of Kyiv. , using Kopias or pikes that concocted impetus as deadly resistance of the lineage betrayed in Hellenic, London, and Berlin museums. The roof pointed to the southwest where the light of Orion was reflected by the aerial forms of the Orfeón de Azov, riding over the high seas with votive offerings or offerings of Cyclamen and Red Poppies sifted to Silbones and Spoonbills birds that flew majestically in the nomadic rhythm of a Rhapsodas, coffering with epic elegies of Mariyinsky, and of those revived venerable triumphs that stretched out from the banner of glory and bed of the epiphany of Ukraine with the brave victors.

Rhapsode proclaims thus: “In Katyn, Polish Wings and Golden Woods with Red Poppies, adorned Bellis Perennis in twelve thousand rags of our steppes harassing their moan in blood offensives, framed in great chapters and threshold lintels in their mounted war. There were twelve thousand red poppies burning from the executory pilaster near Smolensk.” How much must he get fed up with the Polish cavalry of the 17th century, when he glimpses barbarous sounds in the temple that approached them to the altar of the Virtual Palace, showing off an acquiescent ceremonial and lifeless aristocracies, with living needy and vanquished mortals who posed in the rear of twelve thousand officers slain in the Katyn Forest assisting nine thousand of the slain in Mariupol, like gallant gentiles and medieval men of the contemporary untimely invasive. Here in this place, the winged horsemen with puffs went by their destiny to be sacrificed in steel quilts that galloped on their heads protected by brotherhoods and Hussars who protected them with Tiger and Lion breastplates with their retracted claws. Bogdan Khmelnitskyi watched in the virtuous image of him as winged medieval specimens protected the frontispiece of the palace in bullets of super-existence, fear, and historical trance. Here on this ground each one of the officers was aided by each 17th-century Polish cuirassier with ferocious wings, they were making their dying honor and glory with those similar, twice right there inequality and interwoven misty discrepant blood executing with apocryphal witnesses that covered them with sinister appearance, overflowing evasion and truce of bodies stained in mourning with disconsolate blankets carrying scattered red poppies adjoining a naive defenseless forest. About exalted memorandums, secrets, and epithets they felt in the tears of Adrastea next to Mikaiyáh.

Eagles of Kyiv will go to act of the spell of Didraskein, where no Slavic invaders and lethal punishments will be spared. The nymphs procreated their kind, the Slavs would drown in the cries of cuirassiers like Didraskein, before sobbing in platitudes of foliage and rotten hopes of those who hit them from behind, for a little water wasted such as heroes of Katyn. Here neither Cronus nor Mother Rhea heard them, only Adrastea avoided the cries of men-children and of those who atoned for her back, unburdening them from the foliage of the Didraskein with tears of lumpy mercury. Volodymyr's steeds rise carrying the curved Zsabla, before each one is shot in their heads as twelve thousand Winged Riders caught in each Zsabla plus nine thousand immolated from Mariupol, sacrificing them before they were killed from the waist of their head lost in loved ones, not being expired by ammunition, rather by sabers of honor and glory of their own winged protectors that would lead them by sharp weapons towards the holocaust surrounded by red poppies. “The red fog of the forest carried the souls of the Hussars by passing them through the sabers of their compatriots before they were immolated by Soviets, in this way apostolates and souls would be catechized by Zsablas in dyed airs of Red Poppies converted into the breathed air of the heroes of the Katyn Forest and Mariupol, seeing themselves redeemed by the 17th Century Golden-Winged Riders of Poland and Adrastea”

Bogdan with the immensity of voices and epithets heard Adrastea, she differed from volatile metal sabers, and explosives present when they went out in the crooked armor of Polish and Ukrainian beings, in a rear that Volodymir finally settled with the weave of the immaculate suspended habit of twelve thousand Red Poppies crossed by their forehead before being shot in the cortex, and occipital lobe forging with transvestite golden sabers, and cenobites that received them in the arms of the sublime stench of the effluvium of blood and hosts of nine thousand from Mariupol, never left and desisted from the bubbling figure of the acroteria near Mariyinski, idem to the Katyn Forest itself, surrounded in a string of the Rosary that was dazzled with Saint Sophia adopting them.

Fourteen vibrations of enthronement polarized from Volodímir instantly to his brother Bógdan, making filial gradation in the possible conception of cult and death who is suspended from one to the other under a damning accent of past lives. It is typical of the facsimile of his own genetic shadow, perhaps of Sem-Asur, who finally come together as blood relatives of the same Orbis Alius trunk. Rejecting not accessing Asur (as a healthy creative mind of Genesis) as an energy that could be restructured in any homologous of the world of Asur, as the son of Shem of Genesis..., as compared and inter-generational real mythology, pronouncing and enlivening in metaphors of the enchantment of what occurs in gender similarity or Mental field. The compensation and intemperance of living matter refer to the simultaneous undivided of each civilization as a phenomenon devoid of hearing and inclement winter periods. Here the outbreak lies cloistered in Menatira, daughter of Cránae, Queen of Eleusis Pro-Ukrania; such as a fluff of respite convulsing in both steppes of silence and hundreds of years B.C. prophesying to send aid to the victors of Volodymyr, Olena, Bógdan and the heroes of Mariupol with the Zsablas of Mikaiyah.
Bogdan´s  Zsablas
"Vernarthiano and well-wisher name leads me to you in temporary fissure and tolondro, abjuring virginity in my maiden legion delivered in barbarism, and in blood betrothed for those who more in the finesse prolactin emulsion is renewed as a teenager, opening spaces to bring depressions of inheritance, for whom or those who found hieratic parents and children here in the disputed ****** that nests their nature.

Escaping from the beast and the libido of the criminal patron of the dynasty, which continues to flow senile gold through the scattered veins of beasts that hunt spoil, falling in love with the young and their commiseration. I swiftly attracted the henchmen who bleed before the door of the corporal and fateful destiny, opening in Hellenicidal impostor blood of the Holy Land, and in contradiction by Maccabees with immobilized blindfolded eyes, intimating the extreme virginity of a quasi Sibyl maiden, grasped in the tweezers. Of Seleuco, expired in the dark chamber of Wonthelimar, and in ardent desires that sever brains in the darkness of the cavern of Chauvet bilocated in the roadstead of Skalá. Vernarth I have come to you as a double birth, moaning descendants of the helots, phrases that found no excuses that salutely leave compassionate, like Antiochus who exhorted me to go to your solemn Investiture of the Himation. Ad mostem festinamum Eurydice said that she sang to me romantic atolls from the balcony of nowhere, unrequited I was consumed with the love that flowed through the vena cava of the sufferer in Apollo. Ezpatkul looked at the koelum or demiurge sky in his epiphany, summoning your Gerakis to station themselves near Petrobus, entrenching me tightly in the clutches of the Ibic Rings to be referred to your luminary by the seat of Leros.

My parents by the name of Demetrio and Fila brought me to Roshus on the Perian coast of Macedonia, where I was given as a gift at the regent's wedding. I am Stratony of Macedonia, the daughter of Strategy of Syria, my mother. It is I when writing this epistle, which in turn had a prosperous one, but in posterity when my consent was distanced from the same tenor, my mother was solicitously delegated to Seleucus and then to my father Antiochus. Then I shunned Demetrius II, due to his extra union with Phtia, Daughter of Olympia II of Epirus. It was enough that a link in this Seleucid genealogy was lost in the open from a sick dynasty and successions, so that they appear on the henbane embankment, and go back from Lambdas and Epsilons of consanguineous matings, betting principalities and fratricidal blood, cursing themselves in campaigns since the same that is sheltered in mutes and feelings in Judah by Olympian torments, and immortal Gods shrouding fleeting perishable itineraries of life to the tempting mayor of the puppets, and of the mortal reigns without disposition rattling in Samothrace libido, of hundreds superior, and all the enlightened contents of a captive genealogical of semi-gods trying to equalize.


Beloved Vernarthiano on Venus, anxieties made me fly to the sound of the souls of Trouvere, committing crimes in my larnax, for tears that have spread one spring afternoon, which I only saw in contained affections, being able to walk through Roshus with my mother, in the discharge of essences saturated that truncate release in the Epsilon hopper. Subtending lines and diameters towards the ends of the curved arch or broken lines, being able to refer to the circumferential buttress between the sides of the angle of my asthmatic regret…! When I removed my hand from this obituary, I saw that The Hague reigned at its lowest point, which made the ink pinch that made me a princess out of her lines, and characters that were molded in such proactive and literal numbers. Beautiful and charitable is the beautiful donna that is born flowered for nuptials of the angelic white indigo "Deus Meus Captivus", in your purpose I could be Stratonice regent of wandering honoring through the palatial corridors of my mother evading intentional and reasons of victory to our good honor, and of the audited and emphasized names of "Victorious Armies" in their real meaning in our patronymic, after the victory of Ipsos. As Argeadas, the king yielded to the prince, what his subjects receive from replicated dynasties, in retreats and shallow swells of temperament, linking liras between liras of Corinth and patronizing condescension in the dominions of Persia.

Much more than an umpteenth outrage in the bands of tolerance and knowledge, I was able to discount the years to come. Passed through our unconfessed lineage, reaching our sarcophagi in the good news by raising the frame, and lifting my mother in your tragedy by three that are tripled, knowing that they allude to Saint John the Apostle, over the loafers who drool in scabs stepdaughters of party mouths, and monarchical slaps that have united us behind the scenes, and in the interlocking followed by re continued guarantees of worship, pro-Seleuchism or Antiochism vanished in buried Diadoco briefs, adjacent to the ibid in mega nuptials or Olympic descendants, and in the relatives of the Orphism-transgenerational surrogate! Vernarth give me a taste of the well, I require a new territorial ally in your quilts to new heads branded in his autumnal Hegemon.

In the attempt to take out a dagger and put it in the night watchman, I was already amazed at the reading of the fluttering of the Gerakis, who threw the tantrum of other Gerakis with the souls of Trouvere, kidnapping half of my letter that had cut for you Vernarth with chlorinated tears of solid, towards the swallowing of the airones that intimated in bastardized allegories, containing intoxication and unsheathed unison echoes of the bronze settled in the thundering law, making the Gerakis and the Trouveres fall together in some Mycenaean jars of wine. Anger provided beds of each one for manly acts in the Patmian Olympic allegory, denying the reactions of those who become the purveyor of the riches of tragedy, in immaterial environments that discuss not having it if they only run aground in logical narratives of Demosthenes' contented spoiled bozo. Smooth sites wound me with poisonous openings on the campaign pistils and on the Áspis Koilé shields, being worth confusing against the hives of the queen mother and her drone, tolerating and yielding to her heir, with foolish demeanor in caring for him and inheriting him a procreated barbarian reign.

Now we are barbarian slaves and heirs, in unresolved conflicts of parents deprived of a loving life, by progeny that ennoble crusades that stone patrimonial alliances for consanguineous alliances that should never have prospered in the bitter toast of Stratonice worried in her borne sarcophagus, avunculated in true pro lactic godmother of the son of a nascent Zeus. We are all divided as a lineage; there is nowhere to gather more dismembered successors of Macedonian polytheists, after central efforts to reign without a crown. The same of the love that reigns without meaning, imparted from the decadent effort that worsens to resurrect the aristocracy that lies of grubs,  and the sacrosanct helminth in our Alexander the Great, preceding intercessions of the Royal Marriageable Dynasties before your most illustrious, in the new kingdom of the Lord that does not he sees himself enthroned in the black trepidations of our ill-managed partitions, by humors that flow from the couplings and bandages of who is said to be the abbot of a Vernarthian preliminary.

Vernarth, culminated in the auspices of the complete conjecture and its subsequent grievances to request your office, in subsequent claims that induce to draw the irascible thunderbolts of those who only want to make us wake up from their apostasy, alone and insubstantial, covering muddy stores of grace, which establish walled up reigns in all honor and charm of hearing the true voice of the Mashiach, with all its solemn title being able to help all those freed from the Caucasus scene, and in the edicts that nullify memories as human beings of their castrated history.

Before your letter is read, I add Stratonice as my name is, and I am aware of his reading by uttering: “The signal field has been prophesied, it has condensed the Hegemonic energy of Alexander the Great, pointing out that the diseased body of Antiochus; my father…, is supplanted by that of the to happen all the trances and difficulties that are assumed after the hazardous departure in Babylon. Therefore it must carry every corollary prophesied in the death of my grandfather Seleucus in the hands of Ptolemy Ceraunos. Wanting to dress up the irrevocable interference that occurred in Judah by his Diadocos gangs, opting for the effect of his offspring, therefore on his spiritual stretch of residual and static energetic mass, ad libitum that will end when unleashed in his son. By now all will be consumed in the pathogenic body of Antiochus, and of the love for my mother where she was abducted, and possessed by retaliation from Alexander the Great for proven insubordinate ethical demands. "
Epistle of Stratonice
Poetria Dec 2019
i know
i make people look prettier behind my eyes
i say i'm no good at painting, but the picture's always beautiful within my mind
there's a line between these realms i like to say distorts things
and the images procreated are built like the story of a man who saved the world

he rescued coats and sweaters and nuns and cows and little me when i fractured my elbow on a regular school day, hospital visits fast becoming a source of adventure
he appeared out of thin air, magic, like that trick where i have to guess if he's furious or pretending to be
he would tickle my soul, bringing fountains of laughter, water like tears in a quiet corner between a wardrobe and the wall, lights out, hiding
he gave the loveliest hugs and the greatest tasting dairy milk bubbly's on sunday's back from belfast with me puppy-like demanding his affection and time
he promised horses and swimming pools and freedom of choice,
and he promised to be honest,
broke my heart a few times

you know
that you delight in the nature of things that have the potential to be harmful, people who you convince yourself are exactly the way you see them through the windows of your rose-coloured, thorn-bleeding eyes

i fear
that the history of everything keeps you reading one book a thousand times and you can never move on from anything or anyone
Sylvia Plath wrote one novel in her lifetime, a semi-autobiographical little book that held the most truth mixed in with fiction, probably being the reason why it feels so much more real than any completely fictional or nonfictional thing. I think that if i write a book, i might have to add so much of myself in the book to make it tangible and vivid enough to create the desired effect of being real enough, while not being about me in my phtsical life. I think I'd write my own version of The Bell Jar. It's scary how much I can relate to Sylvia Plath, fully knowing a genius like herself still took her own life- casually so, at the end. So here is a snippet of something that isn't a poem, or a book. and poetic prose sounds sort of pitifully like an aesthetic piece of writing, which this also couldn't be.
Jennifer McCurry Jun 2020
The Charmers of Hupomeno

Mankind and his ambition  
Might have thought  
To take slowly from the pile
  
But he seems to heave and throw
Eager to watch it burn
Eyeing the cinder
The ember his eye
Puff and pride swelling his chest
  
What destruction  
And brought tempest
The storm placed  
  
And mankind grins  
Believing it echoed a rain dance
Barking snake oil  
To crowds huddled  
Shaking hands  
To chuck the bottle
  
They lick their lips of its placebo
And stoke the fire  
With sticks of ivory
***** charcoal  
And remnants of nature  
And its source
  
The tapping of singed fingers
Plays a tune  
To impromptu a soft shoe  
Buffaloes time step
And the cake walk shows white teeth
Bared and dinged
And shuf shuf shuffles off
  
Mankind and his cane
To beat the rock  
With the bones of holy ancestry
They drink  
But cannot further the tribe  
Dancing does nothing for distance
Endurance withers  
In the heat furnaced and fueled  
  
Mankind procreated
Whip in hand and behind her like a dog
He has raised a son
And named him Meribah
The Great Entertainer
Watch him twirl the torches
Gasp as they burn
  
The soul at siege  
Will rush the plank  
Will caress the sky from falling
Will scald his flesh  
To prevent the stage on fire
But dismantle it piece by piece
And find a fortress in his stronghold
  
The temple of man
Made of skin
And three rings announce a master of ceremonies  
He is loathe to crack the lions
But had intended them lambs
In the near-night morning

When the sun

Battling timidity

Avoided approaching the skies.

When birds laid slain with sleep

When the day

Had of late, been begotten

And laid suckling in the rocking ***** of time.

Upon an insomnia-provoked thought I pondered.



Wondering what the age of the sun might be.

Delved into some critical reasoning here.

Danced to the beats of deep philosophizing there.

Borrowing Plato's cloak....





The sun

Impregnated with heat

She sprays the earth with good shining.

Negotiating with darkness

She innovates light.

She constantly radiates a golden smile.

NO WRINKLES IN HER EYES, LIE!



Alas! Alas!

My thoughts procreated futility.

We may never know the age of the sun.
How old is the sun?

— The End —