Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
They have been together,
give or take, for fifteen years.

Their marriage in the clasp
of puberty, its voice deepening,
its stubble sprouting.

Not long ago, shopping.
Necessary. Kid’s birthday.
It comes around quick,
like lunch, paying for the Ploughman’s
at the self-service in town
when the clock flicks to twelve.

Her right hand on his right hand.
They still do this,
though not quite as often.

Today,
he returns from work, wrenches
the tie out from beneath the collar
of a shirt she ironed yesterday.
Son, out.
Daughter, also out.

The fridge plagued with magnets
and a list; Milk,
                  Bread,
                  Eggs?
Inside, two beers,
sweating cold.
Later, he thinks.

How’s your day been darling?
We need to be at the school at six.
Oh yes.
They need to hear
how their progenies
excel at the expressive arts.
He hasn’t been expressive in years.

Hours expire.
Now his bare feet slide
under the duvet.
The wife reads a while,
Sunday Times bestseller.

Then she hugs him,
touches the skin she has known
since she was nineteen
at Northampton, literary sponge
absorbing Shakespeare and Joyce.

It is warm.
It is something
that has not changed.
The two of them are content.
They know they can
always have this.
Written: August 2018.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. Please note that 'Joyce' refers to the former Irish writer James Joyce, 'Ploughman's' refers to a term sometimes used for a cheese and pickle sandwich in the UK, while Northampton is a town in England - the nearest large town to where I live, and also where I studied my undergraduate degree.
these faces on the wall that have no eyes,
the young children with blood escaping from their hands
   as they    pick up a mound of the Earth and  throw at genuflected  roses.
these battered men   in parks   searching  for light
   and   my woman   is no longer with  me.

it’s all  vaudeville:  this obnoxious working of continuance,
these redundant  flutings,   these  unprecedented fluctuations.

opening  the yellow gates  to death
as the  automobile churns the  last of its exhausted snarl.
   we    are children   peering through   glass cases
as   death laughs at his   hopeless  clientele,
    sad,   desolate   progenies   in   working-classes,
in   parks,  in factories,   somewhere along Mendiola,
  or  just treading the waist-high  hellish   froths   of   Dapitan,
    there’s   always   death in   the nooks   of the quiet
and from   where birds    stir in  sidereal circles,   death
  with his hands    resting   on the   cage,   chases us  back to  our homes.

death   the changing of the   gatekeeper.
death  the   telling machine.
death   the dentist.
death   my next door neighbor.
death,   this boorish broken-winged   Maya twitching in  front
   of my dog’s shadow  shot out of the Sun’s  shameful recoil.
death,   my loud and loutish muse,
death    the   truant,
death,   the   copious  fog somewhere in Kennon Rd.
   death,   in my   hands through   darkness    and  light,
death   through troves   of enigma,
      death   through   undisputed clearings,
death    the   long line  of red beads   in EDSA,
  death  the gates   of Plaridel,

     it’s the moon   following you,   trailing your measure,
i hold   my woman’s used   shirt,  pick up her photographs
    and there’s no tender movement left but  the still-seeking   lion
prowling   the jungles   of my  heart,   seared by  lovelorn undoing.
  
through   the  bottom of  the sky and the  unchanging roof-beam,
  the weathervane ceases to  a sojourn  and the  wind is  trapped
    in   a place  where we   cannot   utter any word  between the  gnashing
  of   our teeth – through the wasted   years,  through  the sleeping in  and out
  of   homes filled  with beatings,  to cathedrals swollen with  tribulations,
      and to   the vineyards     wrung   out   of wine,    my  lover,   walking  through  fire,
        sound     silence.
Guss Dec 2013
Crashing atoms of astonishing substance.
That is the nature of our existence,
bouncing about the constancy of physics.
Tied to each other by means
of unexplainable phenomena.
The drama unfolding stubbornly
into a war of races.
One with no one racing.
But when the folks of the future look back on me
they wouldn’t have a foreboding demeanor.

It is so easy to be so arrogant.
My progenies will learn what ?
I bet that when I die,
I’ll be reborn into an alien form.
At least for now,
that’s my objective.
Connor Gruver Jun 2013
i pray in time, friend,
that this you understand,

that it has to be my sweetest displeasure
and yet my most unjust liberty

to tell you that every quiet passing
along a young and hopeful causeway

was almost gladly spent finding,
some how or another . . .

    every day new to discover you over and again,
    so to drink in with haste the strange august nectar
    and draw into my lungs the sovereign aura

    that drift from your autumn eyes.
  
    how to hold and to press gently your hands
    just a moment more between mine in a way
    that kisses with, in consummate balance,

    a firm allowance and a free imperative.

    how to mold, to sculpt, to shape
    my habitual pining over your subtle forms
    into an simple, ever green, professant blessing

    a splendid, deep down, ours religion.

    how to capture your innocent stargaze
    in the longing embrace of my own
    so that for one moment so perfectly brief

    we were one great blossoming cosmos.

    how to be one who aligns our beating royal suns
    who calms our winters and ignites our summers
    who dances and dies in the storms and the fires

    that splash from your glimmering eyes.

    how to be whom you adore until the requiem day
    when our confessional ******* swell and crash in the cascading sand
    to the sonorous beat of a final splendid rapturous breathtaking harmonious

                    Yes.

    as fury and ecstasy ripple and bound
    in our lush fantastical burial ground.
    as our progenies daydream of kingdoms to come
    and sing with an amorous hymn on their tongues.

yes, and so it has been now for days and for tides
that my latent creations in whatever measures
those passions, when sparked and then quenched in an instant
are no more or less than my sweetest displeasures.
This one was inspired in part by Bon Iver's cover of "I Can't Make You Love Me," in part by Damien Rice's "Cannonball," and in part by a very dear friend.
The astrologer speaks with a smiling face
For each of your miseries there’s redress
To calm down the planet subside crisis
There’s a stone to bring back the peace

It’s so clear when I read your face
You’re aggrieved greatly distressed
Fortune is shackled finance on the rocks
Luck is littered with stumbling blocks

On the home front looms a dark cloud
Your progenies aren’t making you proud
The spouse is no help in cutting down cost
In the sea of expense your earn is lost

All your efforts are going for a toss
The grind of job villainous boss
One after other misfortunes strike
Career stalled so is pay hike

But there’s still hope don’t break down
You’ve come to the best in the town
Here you would find at affordable rates
Boost in your fortune by remedying planets
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
mEb Nov 2010
Vicinit vicinit the gamut go round
Progenies excogitate faster
Ode to no eminent thing
We all morph into matter.

The atramentous inky and blackest dense;
sprints and weaves in and out.
Tenuring twains over head, under toe;
Absconding ways in which we've never known
A paramounted heretic defeat.
Darkness that foliole footprints sooted deep;
Seeping stenches of fowl un-scented reminiscent in attire of the welkin;
Vastly sly making a skullduggery indent.
CR2X let us pseudonym by hex.

"No nomen no nomen for I matter dark"
"Matronymic nix hold's my fine lark"
"Nongermane logics are behind you and left"
"I am not your scientific pet"
Not a test, nix preliminaries"
Matter of all is of all existing quarries"

Spoken gallant and wise
Need not ever a compromise
"Matter dark matter dark it is you we embark!"
I met a stranger in the bus..a man in the black suit..and I seemed to know him since ages..took the same route as mine..
Ours was a unique acquaintance, it was of smiles and stares, words hardly spared..

But today, today was different..he, with a diminished smile, seemed like he had a taxing day to cuss..in his eyes, he had the world locked like the pandora..
To open it was calamity, and to keep it all in was fatality.. but he was brave, went on burning his soul in the fire of the heist..
I always wanted to ask him about his pursuit, but I was scared of the explosion, he might endure his own Big Bang..

This stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, was unordinarily restless today. And I couldn’t guess why..
Flicking his fingers, frantic, hasty and teary eyes, who was once my persona for strength, he left me drowning into the depths of my thoughts..
Oh how could I have even resisted, I was falling short of smiles..
Deciding to trade a word today, this harmless stranger extends a clumpsy mind, just like mine.. the troubles were little too wild, and I was compelled to listen..
They said talking helped, but we shared more smiles, words lesser spared..remember ?
The lump in his throat did most of the work.. While I got lost in his unshared troubles, i learnt something tonight..

Melting cold nights and rumbling leaves at the height. The swaying trees and the smooth slow breeze..These are the flaws of nature that are meant to make us feel right. But the evil, vicious ones, loneliness and anxiety, are our unborn progenies, and we nurture them with will and pride..they tell us of our existence, of the blood and flesh and the emotions running through our veins.. they make us pop and bleed, through our ears and eyes.. like the dictators back in time.. they eat through us, mummify us for the rest of our lives..
And this stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit..
I finally sense him.. He held my hand, asked me one simple question.
Why do we weep when we lose control ? Why are there storms and tempests inside our tiny hearts? Why do we feel wounded by the ******* loneliness that we create with our own flesh and blood, our own nurturing ? Why are we possessive about this poison that is freezing our blood, one cell at a time..? Yes, anxiety.. why do we let it turn us blue, **** us ?

I could only wonder, how smoothly he filled all the blanks. The blanks inside my gut. The blanks inside my head, the questions that he slapped in my face left red marks, but the ringing in my ears gave me the answer..

How easily could I let this venom out of my nose, with each exhale, I could sense the fumes of the blue escaping, leaving me with the spectrum of all colours but the one..

I see this stranger in the black suit everyday now. Everyday, In my bed, embracing me into sound sleep, in the mirror telling me that I was the prettiest of all, in my thoughts, in my walks, talks and mindful tirades.
The stranger now is a part of me, he camps inside me.. he replaced my poisons and demons..
And now we look out the window together, and smile more often.. the storms seem sorted now and ****** anxiety sits beside me, not inside me..
Stephen E Yocum Oct 2014
We are here to love one another,
To procreate, love, teach, protect
and raise our progenies to be decent,
loving human beings.

All else is merely a distraction,
to our very purpose for existence.
It is really that simple.
13 Jun 2017
I’ve forgotten the taste of love. The cherished threads that tie people together.
The feelings they profess in supposed honesty, the joy and ecstasy.
I’ve missed opportunities, naturally. Nature played me.
Distraught, I ran from a thought.
I ran a lot.

At the gates of responsibility’s exit, I had another thought. One without definition or reason.
Another ego maniacal ***** fit. A watered down vintage. Faked antique.
Off balance in a world out of balance, yet fools think they cancel each other out.
Sometimes it’s enough to lighten the load — fill the hole.
Usually not.

Escaping reality has its perks. You don’t feel bludgeoned by your actions or burdened by their consequences.
I think of the past as a mirror, when it’s really just a sprightly melancholic, yet gut wrenching, novel awaiting a squeal.
And I’m the only one who can write it. Expecting anyone else to would make the end predictable.
This is how all sad ironies of life must end.
Off the top of my head.

I’ve forgotten myself. I sometimes can’t recognize the person inside this shell.
These actions, thoughts, this ego — I am more than I know or understand.
Not necessarily a bad thing. Most definitely not a good thing either.
Come out guns blazing and paint the town only to apologize profusely — to each and every rotten corpse thereafter — to each and every ***** **** and dripping ****.
I am not your savior.

I make my own hell. I made this bed the day I claimed my throne.
And all your dreams flew into my **** ready to be ****** and multiplied. Progenies of your inner war. The cruelty of your being made thought, sin made flesh, hate made speech.
A victim of the false promise, the martyr of a hollow conscience. I am the end result of my own intentions.
I hate this.
Posted on October 10, 2015
Born Oct 2017
It either 'coronation'
or some truths shoved down your throat
with no regrets
that launches the world into a dizzy subtle hate
that pecks the reality of peasants
wearing his masters shoes

And your fate is choked and weighed down
and the world keeps pounding, hating, drowning your existence
cause there's no love or Justice
when you're a filth with no worth  

Your master believes
submission is your natural state
cause your ancestors taught you
why would an ant  quarrel with a boot?

Here you are
afraid to have dreams and hope
crying for your progenies impending peril
and there's no knight or a hero in sight
I want you
I need you to thirst for me
Like water
Drink me to the last drop
I want you
To crave me like a cigarette
And turn me on
Till you smoke me up
To the stub
Leaving you
Feeling numb
And turn to me
Like a *****
At night
Or a pillow
You hold so tight
When cold and incomplete
Let me perfect you
Like a Yin to a Yang
For every chalice
Must have a blade
I'm your blade
You're my  chalice
Our Progenies
Will be rebellious
Mavericks
Cause we make
An imperfect
Bonnie and Clyde
But a perfect
Amber & Myk
Lust is a form of energy I'm still exploring. God ave me addictions, obsessions and thorns in my flesh. But all this was to make me what the world looks for. I are Invictus Elfuric
Much of my life has been invested in
nurturing my children to embrace kindness.
To practice and project decency in their
lives and thus reap the rewards that good
behavior does inspire. To revere and embrace
love given and received.

They will be bequeathed some material riches
when I am gone, but these moral principles
and lessons passed down to me from my folks
are my most enduring and valuable legacy.

My lifelong desire is that my offspring pass on
these values to their future progenies, as there
is no greater human gift to bestow or receive.
Decent behavior and kindness are acquired
through repetitive examples and teachings
instilled in us by loving family members.
ATL Jul 2019
simper now
in the relaxation of infinitesimal specks:
we have measured their resonance.  
such a dreadful prognosis...
torn from a blear openness and
swept into progenies avalanche,
clinging to a spar of what is and could be
Mpayinfo) Akwaaba,
The melodies streaming and vibrating,
Are lyrics inked
By the rankled lightenings,
On the dark clouds,
And blown by the gods
From their retributive flutes,
Prompting the thunders to chorus,
The terrors,

                    Mpayinfo)
The legs of time is stout,
And will stride wearing not,
For the coals and brimstones creeps,
And will be pernicious,
Even to your progenies,

                       Mpayinfo)
For the language of the gods,
I speak not,
But their deep seated pique
And bruises,
I tell and forewarn,

                           Mpayinfo),
Where is Okyeame and the Omanhene,
Where are they?
Why come without them?
I guess they know;their clandestines
Have fallen before the sights of the gods,
Vultures that eats from the pots of the eagele;In his absence,
And smear faeces on the tips,
Traitors of traditions,

For the alien groceries
Have tucked their intelligence,
And left them groggy
Famished Dogs

                            Mpayinfo),
Why sit-tight and watch;
As aliens contrive a throne
Over our goods?
And defile our land
With their iniquituos schemes
Ubiquitously,

                       Mpayinfo)
The gods sing the blues,
And grieve day and night,
Their tadpoles have lorn them,
And clung to an alien deity,
For this I say and forewarn,
Like I told your fathers before,
If the witchweed is not uprooted with vehemence,
The creeping coals and brimstones,
Shall surely surmount entirely,
"A word to a wise";They say"it enough"
Now go,


                               Oracle
                              ©Historian E.Lexano,
I met a stranger in the bus..a man in the black suit..and I seemed to know him since ages..took the same route as mine..
Ours was a unique acquaintance, it was of smiles and stares, words hardly spared..

But today, today was different..he, with a diminished smile, seemed like he had a taxing day to cuss..in his eyes, he had the world locked like the pandora..
To open it was calamity, and to keep it all in was fatality.. but he was brave, went on burning his soul in the fire of the heist..
I always wanted to ask him about his pursuit, but I was scared of the explosion, he might endure his own Big Bang..

This stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, was unordinarily restless today. And I couldn’t guess why..
Flicking his fingers, frantic, hasty and teary eyes, who was once my persona for strength, he left me drowning into the depths of my thoughts..
Oh how could I have even resisted, I was falling short of smiles..
Deciding to trade a word today, this harmless stranger extends a clumpsy mind, just like mine.. the troubles were little too wild, and I was compelled to listen..
They said talking helped, but we shared more smiles, words lesser spared..remember ?
The lump in his throat did most of the work.. While I got lost in his unshared troubles, i learnt something tonight..

Melting cold nights and rumbling leaves at the height. The swaying trees and the smooth slow breeze..These are the flaws of nature that are meant to make us feel right. But the evil, vicious ones, loneliness and anxiety, are our unborn progenies, and we nurture them with will and pride..they tell us of our existence, of the blood and flesh and the emotions running through our veins.. they make us pop and bleed, through our ears and eyes.. like the dictators back in time.. they eat through us, mummify us for the rest of our lives..
And this stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit..
I finally sense him.. He held my hand, asked me one simple question.
Why do we weep when we lose control ? Why are there storms and tempests inside our tiny hearts? Why do we feel wounded by the ******* loneliness that we create with our own flesh and blood, our own nurturing ? Why are we possessive about this poison that is freezing our blood, one cell at a time..? Yes, anxiety.. why do we let it turn us blue, **** us ?

I could only wonder, how smoothly he filled all the blanks. The blanks inside my gut. The blanks inside my head, the questions that he slapped in my face left red marks, but the ringing in my ears gave me the answer..

How easily could I let this venom out of my nose, with each exhale, I could sense the fumes of the blue escaping, leaving me with the spectrum of all colours but the one..

I see this stranger in the black suit everyday now. Everyday, In my bed, embracing me into sound sleep, in the mirror telling me that I was the prettiest of all, in my thoughts, in my walks, talks and mindful tirades.
The stranger now is a part of me, he camps inside me.. he replaced my poisons and demons..
And now we look out the window together, and smile more often.. the storms seem sorted now and ****** anxiety sits beside me, not inside me..
Some diadochi came escaping from the Vóreios of Zefian, the ships of Boeotia married the dynastic of the new progenies of their infants, who prepared them for the fourth Bestiary, which in turn also escaped from the third Bestiary of the bear that tore apart everything that presented itself, within its claws and its jaws. The third imperialist beast of the bestiary was Hellenistic; It had bear claws and crushed the fish of the Aegean Sea with its fangs, this, in turn, tried to grab the dragon's back with its snout with the bear's paws and the feline's steel claws to stretch them over its lion's jaws, unleashing the inter-bestiary that severed the parallelism of the Amphictyony and the Apocalypse, summoning Alexander the Great to revive him from his larnax in the highest Prophet Ilias, this will entail the ablution of his soul and appropriation of his new empire of the Seventh Heaven to atone for all the atrocities of his empire of Blood and Corruption. Alexander the Great was aware of the existential drama of eternity for him, in order to aspire to be anointed as a Converted King and dispense with the root of the inter-bestiary in the claws of the bear with the claws of steel of the lion of the fourth bestiary. They all sailed by one major mast starting from the Delphic prophecy of Herophile, which transfigured the Trojan chronology by more island resources into dramatic new deity cultures with over twelve deities which had to include one more of the demi-god Vernarth totally dissuaded from the plague of Aristaeus in great dishonor due to the taxonomic Animalia that was in its vanguard, re-leveling the nuanced skies, also the oceans that were erected mostly on the level of Hisarlik with thirty-three meters above sea level, plus as many from the cavern to 269, and under the Prophet Ilias of 798 as a consequence of parallel parapsychology with Troy. The theological transcendental civilizing mission trembled to the Tempe valley, Thessaly specifically in the small valley in the Agia Paraskevi church, for altars that will return the ancestral domains of the locality to their voices near the Arethusa fountain. From here they will triangulate the libertarian magnificence of the animality of the bees of Gethsemane for the reciprocal of the source of Castalia, up to the Source of life on Patmos as the second coming of Jesus. From where Eurydice will always flee as she once was away from Aristaeus, so as not to be bitten by the serpent. All this transcription of the double consequence of immortal Eurydice brought gifts for each component of the Hexagonal Primogeniture, making sure that Aristeo's bees did not die, being saved by Vernarth's bees, who redoubled submythology, hanging on it as a parallel classical narrative in the construction of the Duoverse under the Áullos Kósmos. The three sources were unified with Vóreios, becoming the patrimony of the Moshaic gods for the good of an outstanding Mythological virtue with sub-mythological parallelism, with gods conditioned in the rabbinic divinity. They undertook the glamorous descent with the vapors of Delphi with their ethanol, alleviating Alikantus towards the pilgrim resulting from his connotation of a taurine steed close to a ram, but of Delphic psychic magnetism saving potential victims with the repeal of the beekeeping world of Aristaeus.

The gods of Faith went hand in hand, in some cases, they did not recognize their gender or status, but rather the divine and ineffable condition of the unrepentant Seventh Heaven, ad libitum of Titania as a mental abstraction of pro-Olympic labyrinths, which have not born under the eaves of it. Spring and winter came arrogating themselves in all the rapes and abductions of the flowers that would not germinate, and that would go away due to the promiscuous twilight that was made of dawn in some flowers that did germinate on the defenseless edge. The converted Alexander the Great caressed the tunic that he looked at more than the one used by the maiden, he looked towards his own chlamys that did not make him helpless from his gaze in the ability to transform into a Converted King, almost like a beautiful celestial lion after leaving the libidinous gestures of Astarte as a foreign goddess and mother of the lift that made her doubt the rain that was refined as a gregarious hostess in celibate women who tried in outbursts of Alexander the Great by removing Astarte's veil of darkness, in cases of lost loves of the transcript Forest of Hylates, or in the awakening of the Apennines when it was the trophy of a felid winged tetra in the rooms of the runaway Bayard of Charlemagne.

The rain bathed millennia that traveled from the boreal of Vóreios to the insane Argive spaces in the Peloponnese where the first maiden hangs her braids sixteen times to forty times more, before all the brides who stay awake in the hours that have not sworn eternal misogyny. Spring served winter mead with sweet late-harvest wine from the valley of the Sharon plain, they embraced by the chamsin, squabbling in the sand that Zefian had hoarded before enchanted by the interval of Delphi. The north and south forks dried up the cobblestones of the dusty ground, where the chamsin reverberated suffering for more than forty-six weeks, making light prey on the song of the three sources of Life, the Castalia and the source of Arethusa. A solemn red stain could be seen on the little sky that blinded the chairs that held the intramurals of the wind tunnel, breathing on the chamsin turning it into murals of dust forced to channel it and always be levitating in the gushes that shelled drops of rain, and sand in the disturbed electrical animations that made him possessed in the spiers at the mere tone of liquid marble in which they already spoke of Hellenic modernity of barbarism of the Ruah Qadím, banishing the spire from the east wind for fifty days. The lights and festivities could be seen illuminating from the feared height when descending from the diminished light of the amplified candle; everything resembled a dwelling where everyone was seated at a long table that had no end in the center of seven candlesticks, seven bread baskets, with a chalice, everyone gossiping along with the bees of Gethsemane that did everything in their glosses and nectars that they celebrated in the mansions gleaming with the transit of the muffins of San Juan and its Hexagonal. Raeder clung to the red and blue Gerakis with gold seams that talked of dining and their oblate.

They began to sit away from the cruel gods of those gods who deny their children who were engendered by the cruelest and most chaste reconversion by staying on Olympus as guests, as opposed to sitting at this free table of the very well-valued elixir with the deities invited Phrygian women, who only laughed and favored the secrecy of the bread of eternity, and well-being that was subject to the conscious tolerance of who await a lavish banquet on a table in these conditions with mood and prolonged perspective and tablecloths of penance and cross in exotic chores. They drank the hanging sheep on the branches of the fruits that hung from the cornucopia, and the baking that altered the enzymes of some harsh dispute against Asia, which Leiak concocted with benevolent sorcery by giving it sip water from the drinking sea of Asia Minor. in front of illuminated Troy. The table is made of seven bread baskets, seven mistletoes that escorted the gluten bread that was sprinkled by Persephone's strong winds as she fell hastily and longing to meet Demeter; she is picking it up from the gale with her feet pulverizing the soft grains of Hapalos Artos, with goat's milk and olives that she would anoint on the very nails of her daughter Persephone of hers when cleaning them with white leaves of the dough fluffy It used to be called Cappadocia yeast until it reached the edges of the noble bread that were installed on the table as Lakhma bread as a metaphysic of the Eucharist that took place on the white tablecloth that shrank every time it was taken as domestic bread when rolled in the angry parts of the Mataki tablecloth, for healings that continue from the protective actions of those who take advantage of a good alliance of water, and the bread on the table with bad thoughts that anger the battered thick curtains of abundance and prosperity of the ill had. The Iaspis or Jaspers resembled supra scalded as of natural belonging and shimmering authenticity in the rarity that did nothing more than make buffoons from Southeast Asia and not from Asia Minor. The greenish flashes spoke of life at full strength to fit followed by a wisp of flash deposited by Zefian coming and gliding in the seasonal, holding on to some veins of the Alikantus sapphire eyes that were adapted to sipping from the dense spring that floated through the waves. The atmosphere of the Mataki, to later pour it into the chalices absorbed by Leiak's sorcery, speaking of superior lapses of any known numeral but the seventieth preceding the current one. This martyrdom of the Mataki made Leiak's esophagus secrete with the desire of a sommelier who sips the distilled water from the ravines over the chalices that lessened the badly criminal cruelty of those who do not taste the food for another dinner, congratulations if there was a failure of the Caucasus, where elixirs of mixed and sanctified muscatel wine are brought out under the table of San Juan. Everything was of ascending ambition for any liver who coveted this table of Mataki for whom he cordoned off the mountains and made those of the valleys embrace each other, for the uniqueness of the Dodecanese islands. All of those who let go of their shyness and did not allow them to refer to drinking or eating deposed by paying sacred attention to Zefian when he arrived on Patmos as a physical, and not spiritual taste, becoming effective in those who toast with muscatel for all the star maidens who followed him above, violating the seals that held them prisoner, then just then the eye of the Iaspis was made of the karats for its recalculation, subjecting them to the safeguard to signify and meet at this time between seven polyélaios, and seven discopotira immediately to the bag of the phasmatemporos or Enchanted Paneros to taste Self-corrections were approaching with the necromancies of Leiak, they took the seven candlesticks or Polyélaios, and the seven chalices or Diskopótira immediately to the bags of the Fasmatemporos or bread basket, the crimes were archaically repositioned in this Mataki tablecloth enchanted by Leiak, the sin was self-corrected in the parallel line of slip doubly marked as a sin of omission, and concessional violation of the desert's desire to self-correct fully empty having hands with wax from the candelabrum of Kerós' spell or wax made by the bees of Aristaeus to please the avatars present at this inaugural banquet, for libations that spilled part of the lipoids of the bees of Gethsemane, along with those of Aristeo to clean the ground mixed with parasitic spiders that ****** the milk that fell from their rituals. By nightfall of the third dream, the Mataki was wrinkled by thousands of leg joints from mating arachnids from the spider's trochanter drenched in milk and Corinthian wine.

The precautionary did not wake them from the third sleep when they had just broken the bread and made the libation for the first time with alcuzas that shone superimposed on the icons of the Attic vases, here is the lavish clothing of the entomological world under thousands of overloaded spiders in the Mataki, and it is overloaded on the oak inn that supported it towards the entirety of the Tagmati in the formation of a model of hoplite spiders that would transform into specialized units formed by the deprecation of the bees of Aristeo by balancing the unevenness of the tables by attaching them with the figured beards in the icons of the vases, where they saw these images of the future and past with the Tagmati with Byzantine expressions of Constantine V, and with Philip II dispensing financing for the new military uniform of the hoplites completely financed by the Greek coffers, naming him hegemon of the Amphictyony after Philip entered central Greece and won the battle from Chaeronea (338 BC) to the Thebans and Athenian allies, here seven thousand of the fallen Athenian and Theban allies graced the figure of Demosthenes, for new vessels encrypted with Philip's iconic images "Lover of Steeds" where a spear crosses hearts in the offspring of his horses in his heart too, wronged by the page Pausanias of Oréstide as royal guard. Gradually the table was made with more guests represented in the numismatics that ran through the drag of the cornucopia, and in the majolicas that classified the blood represented right there on free floors to self-correct for all the ****** campaign carried out by Philip and his corrupt but unifying mission to dissuade providential enemies unworthy of sitting at the historical table of the Amphictyony remembered in these vessels, on top of the Mataki that absorbed liters and liters per second of the blood that was drained by the description made of the hoplite representatives, who for the first time They once sat next to the close track record of a hegemon. The Sibyls arrived commanded by the Herophile Delphic, they were served wine of conjectured blood reverted from the Mataki but from the ground preceded the greatest libation on spring propination equipment that made amnesty bonds where everything reigned for self-correction of the brutality of the symposiums, where nothing made to have Bearing in mind what would happen to Vernarth's stipend, he was still delighted to see more guests come up from the wind tunnel of the Profitis Ilias that expelled them.

The ashamed gods hid behind the candlesticks that shone with the ****** waxes of Aristaeus, and the polis that harvested the Sponde, sipping the effluvia of Persephone in the meeting of the canticles with her mother, pouring out the earthly gynaeceum that awaits the ceremonial, before only those who observe and correct themselves. Spray water fell from tidal waves from the Aegean with throats plagued by a ravenous and invasive rain of flavonoid metabolites; of the plants that poured down the gorge that Demeter burst upon, flat and monumental goblets for all who arrived with skillful fists to give rise to the mixed consumption of libation with essences of the sleet turned into the blood for the chalices on the table next to the Mataki, which began to replenish pure essence of necromancy to start with the suppressions of evil eyes on the hoplites that began to pierce them and protect them from a certain visual intoxication.
Vóreios
Hasan Maruf Nov 2017
"I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island,
And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god"


It is he who fills my plate with penny
So, I return the gratitude in plenty
I took his pennies and never did I feel empty
Red, silver and scarlet there are so many
Would I stare with frenzy or count one to twenty?

The door of my conscience is locked
So did I absorb?
The torture of Gog and Magog
Everything I do now is
Much ado about nothing

I became the scion of darkness
I was crowned with Babylonian fiendishness
I had everything to charm and to alarm
To those who fail to succumb
To the lord that empowered my élan

To His feet I pledged
My allegiance of insurance
How can I revert now?
Like demon magicians I did avow
My soul under his bough


Rather I can do one thing now
I can idolize my white knight and sponsor
In the talk show, promotion or daily soap
Repeating his bounties under lie detector

Who knows how many progenies are there in the line?
Who were invited before me in his salacious dine?
The fruits, salads, meat roasts, wine and damsel
In bare ******* could serve them a feast of Fife
Displaying the raptor world in the shade of Eglantine

However, a little bit more burst
To cool my masters' unrelenting lust
Can seal my ignoble fate
With perennial gifts and trusts

I will keep preaching my master's crescendo
Cloaking it with metaphor's of poetic innuendo
Wisdom and words from his box of tricks
Will be my WMD to ruin the uber smart freaks

Who can out fool the serpent of evil?
When I will get the ticket to
Fly from Wall Street to London
To give lectures as if I am The Noam Chomsky
Theorizing natural hierarchy in front of millions
The naysayers keep rioting to demand my execution
But like the trash they will be flushed to oblivion


My religion is to plea for His majesty's mercy
I know whenever I will defy like Satan's pride
He himself will greet me again with wealth glorified
Don't misinterpret me, don't despise me either
What I see in you is the same yearning
Rather with a face of a grim and terrible onlooker!

Perhaps there is some contentment in seeking restitution
But, I see the world is aflame in its karmic retribution
So, this is my space, to the feet of my Masters' shoelace
The noblest of life is led by those whose gracious art
Be saved, on pain of punishment for his master's bait!
Hannah Gold May 2017
Leave me visible like a vagrant dog in a deluge...
I'll hear your whisper in the wind, embrace your essence
in the rain, and see the secluded skies..

     When the rain is subtle I will know that something
has tempered you... But when the rain rages I'll know that
something has imparted panic upon you!

     And in this inherited intellect lacking eyes, ears, hands, or lips...
Our limp lumber would eternally rest in Earth's clay.Envision, the squall streaming through a patch of wildflowers...

    In my disorder gardens of myself flourished. Buds of curiosity burgeoning from my eyes! It would be our knuckles, rigid, prancing pebbles meant for progenies' play, and the sinful sun weaving it's way through your missing molars!

   Countless days go unnoticed and nights unslept... We'll speak with our soul through breached bones, where our tendons once thrived!  Imagine, your cranium and mine both mitigated to  matter.

   Both refined from our faults, and our skins going young again, disregarding the reason we ever wrinkled! A chance to cleanse our aura once more... May I become dust with you?
My trembling tree...
Born Apr 2018
There is truth in poetry
If you sit down and slowly decipher the meaning  of that metaphor
But be careful
The truth in poetry is like cyanide
Slowly it will devour you
Your down in the floor
Gasping for air
Your lungs collapsing
Blood coming out of your ears and eyes
Your suddenly screaming, but
Nobody
Can
Hear
You

But before you go through it all
I want to remind you that poetry has repetition
For your own sake the truth is being screamed at you
In repetition
So that you don't go and knock your head off your neck
Forcing us, to write an emotive eulogy of how
you almost tasted the truth.
Inspiring your progenies to passionately embark on that journey
to sniff the truth in poetry
While all along
Its been smeared right on their faces
Butch Decatoria Dec 2020
Dead leaves fall from a living tree,
captured by a breeze, to gather at my feet
tiny mounds
of earth browns
and ill-colored greens
piled on one another / rustling / autumn winds
serpentine screams

tiny graveyards
un-esteemed;
reminding me of last evening's
public television’s episode (almost
appalling)

a special / they call it
on letters from the holocaust,
readings / from surviving
members now lost
Gone grey and slowing

as they speak unnerved (aging)
deep sepia slideshows during
their somber, teary-eyed recollections / lifting
ghosts and rocks of faithful memory

heavy, from the loss
of their progenies...
Those silver photos of nannas, sisters,
brothers and fathers
fading details of what it cost
the camaraderie of suffering

which time has (and they gladly)
frost, depressing
me/ with my big screen magnavox,

i remote control a pause...

&

So...
The still dead leaves of cemetery browns
and soldier greens,
lifeless and lifted by the wind
without empathy / or guilt of sins

an airy power, a commanding force / unseen
gathering / stems or limbs
of these casualties / of autumns
Long winters so profound
none following the flight

of cold fronts in blithe

clustering together / piled / artisanal scenes
at my sandals, toes wriggling
crunching underneath / souls

weathered / beaten / down

death seems simple - like a mindless breeze,
nature’s indifferent devil
dust to rust
it is the way of things
We shifting / graveyards of leaves
as if a memorial of use-to-be's
from a roar of sightless tragedies
memorium of wars
tombs of bodies / images of defeat

not so simple or beloved

the nature of such things
in these leaves i see
of thee i sing....
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Penciled etchings scratch the paint
once a wish for what could be
now damnation for the one
condemned by wishes before their time

boasting years far in advance
the goals extolled a fantasy
creatures thought to fly to peaks
instead walk the earth with clay feet

consider giants that cannot stand
when the landscape is nightmare’s realm
all will crawl when the path
spirals downward instead of up

imaginations of one sad mind
demanding more with every inch
ticking off the fevered goals
creating hells with every year

those heights attained by progenies
where Dad’s boasts ascribe his place
leaving failures to reconcile
lonely scratches instead of love.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181115.
The poem “Lonely Scratches” was prompted by the line "In my heart I know I failed you, but you left me here alone" in the song “Remember Everything” by Five Finger Death Punch.
Salmabanu Hatim May 2020
God created Adam,
And then HE created Eve,
Both sinned and were thrown down to Earth,
Out of their progenies the world grew.
God sent many prophets to make men tread on HIS path and believe in HIM.
Obstinate man didn't listen,
Father fought with son,
Siblings fought with siblings,
Different religions sprouted with different beliefs and different Gods,
Man became bold,egoist and self centred,
From a cave man, an intelligent man to a technology man,
His ego grows,
He now thinks of himself as God,
He wants to conquer the Universe.
Enough is enough!
God sent warnings many times,
Calamities, famine,the plague,
Ebola and Aids etc,
But man finds his way out.
So God sent something lethal,
A super virus with all the strains of other viruses,
Covid 19 dangerously contagious,
Spreads easily and widely,
Enters cells quickly,
Damaging the lungs, heart and kidneys,
A virus that has man shuttered,
An economy in tatters,
Will obstinate man heed now,
Or find his way out.
17/5/2020
And we will see it
In the advent
Of our children’s
Reveries
And we will bend the will of titans
Bring the muses
To their knees
We thee unseen
Consent decrees
Still issue warnings
Troopers storming
Terraforming
Free degrees
For privileged legacies
To breeze
And earn their progenies
With ease
And vested in
Investing in
The inclination
To exceedingly
Succeed
We will remind them
Of the trees
And of the people left to feed
For we are ample
By example
Will we will teach them how to lead

— The End —