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Zy Marquiez Oct 2010
Shuddering violently throughout
the void of life,
desolate anomalies keep
harboring corruptive interludes
of transgression

This...transgression...if you will...
engrosses all in its path
with...

Defiance.

A hostile challenge to
venture upon
all crossroads
which leads towards Poseidon

Thence,

Maraudering throughout these crossroads,
devastation itself pulverizes
all hope, rending it futile
for those who wish to aid

Caliginous clouds set the tone...
for the sullen events lurking near...

However,

This, only but a mere
beginning
Soon we shall
Intro the Wicked
Aubree Champagne Jan 2014
Sadness gathers in bruises along your hipbones
and in aches of metatarsals
when you're dancing alone at the bar, stumbling
over your feet, reeling into counters.

You greet 10 o'clock with the night's fifth drink,
searing the back of your esophagus--strong.
The spinning world around you romanticizes
loneliness.  There's nothing captivating
about swollen cheek bones and shaking knees
from the futile retracing of weary footsteps
in search of people and hope you've lost.

Misery crawls outside where radius meets ulna,
not for a party, but a bar fight,
full of drunkenness and hatred.
Pent up emotions carve flesh along your arms.

Emptiness pulverizes your ribcage,
plucked light guitar strings, your nerves cave
till you puke it all into an unwelcoming bathroom sink.

Despite all 206 bones,
you're never together in heart.
Chad Young Jan 2021
Numbers are arbitrary in a system that doesn't allow diversity.
The dream world - no,
As the universe as one body, it is beyond specialization, yet there are all specializations.
It is arbitrary to define something. What is, is.
The senses perceive it.
All language is a dormant faculty in meditation.
In fact, all senses are dormant faculties in meditation.

What's left is a doubt to need progress.
The head is held in vacua awaiting a placement from a source beyond the Self.
In meditation the head is as a ****** allowing the environment to enter it.
Progress graduates as a straight back -- free.

The deepest meditation is devoid of life.
I will not give up my meditation for any social undertaking, or any entertainment.
I leave my seat to relieve myself or to take up water, food, or a cigarette.
I become weary of stranger, friend, or family.
My heart has no capacity for interaction beyond silence.
The very esteem of any other man, I shrink from.
The very gaze of any woman, I am anxious of.
Animals laugh at my awkwardness.
My own groin, I am apprehensive of its use.
I do not wish to face my reflection in a mirror.
But what else is there but timid eyes?
Kingdom in Kingdom.

The heat from the vent keeping it 67 degrees is as a bath in the most royal palace.
Pain pulverizes me.
Contemplation
zebra Nov 2017
a poet of the id
i am shame
dishonoring myself gladly
a disgrace to clean thinking people
deconstructing the ramparts of a fake me
an obsessed child
desire without conscience
an ignominious plague
a broken bower
humiliated by holding back
the knot of obedience
and the abstinence of true will

this vile canker wants a kiss
i am mortified by nobility
why aren't people ******* in the streets
piling on like dogs
squalor in heat
evoking tender squeals and howls
like ear bleeding sirens on fire

oh genitals on a dais
a new spirituality
Aeon to come
myriad of divine liberations
and a new class of powers

wrend and weary afraid
while desolation pulverizes spirit to ash
my ******* tank is full
instead of taking my life
taking back my life
from the soul herders
ghouls of liturgy

i am
high minded
about being low minded

my scurrilous badge of courage
the ******* salute
spells freedom to flourish

have you seen death?

in the end
are we not all equal ?
krm Jul 2017
There's something honest in hurting enough to display your brokenness like an archive.
There's a wooden fence in the backyard that leads to a small pond; frogs croak, the southern sun pulverizes our skin. I used to imagine sneaking down to that pond late at night, slitting my wrists. I was suicidal, I'm not sure if I am anymore. It played out so beautiful in my mind- almost how Ophelia drowned.
      Water lilies cover my dying face, metaphorical really. Water is dyed a maroon color and my skin has the life drawn from it. This was the summer my family welcomed a new child and all I could do was devote time to my demise.

Hallunicuated hearing my mother's dissapointed words scold me.
She's a ghost and I still  wanted to trade places. My father got re-married, I lost even more of my mind. Hysterical tears and maniacal nights with the same songs on repeat. I tore through my skin like a dying garden, hoped for death like someone with nothing. I have so much; my father, my home, my sisters. I felt I didn't have anyone.

Found solace on my skin-
writing novels, not stories.
Brick surface, room on the right where I built walls with no desire to fight. Large window with the vast world outside, but I never participated. I'd weep until, the sun awoke. I'd swear the moon warned me to quiet down.

Bled so much,
I could have saved several lives
instead, of trying to take my own.
They began to sit away from the cruel gods, from 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 table of gratuity, of the very precious elixir with the invited Phrygian deities who only laughed and fostered the secrecy of the loaves of eternity, and well-being that was subject to the conscious tolerance of those who wait for a lavish banquet on a table, in these conditions with mood and prolonged perspective with tablecloths of penance and cross in exotic chores. They watered the hanging sheep on the branches of the fruits that hung from the cornucopia, and from the bakeries that made altering the enzymes of some harsh dissolution against Asia, to which Leiak devises benevolent sorcery by giving it to sip water from the drinking sea of ​​Asia Minor. in front of the illuminated Troy. The table made of seven bread baskets, seven mistletoes that escorted the gluten bread that dusted strong winds of Persephone, when falling precipitously yearning to meet Demeter; She picks it up from the gale and with her feet, she pulverizes the soft grains of the Hapalos Artos, with the goat's milk and olives that she would anoint on the very nails of her daughter Persephone, by constituting clean them with white sheets of the spongy mass. It used to be called Cappadocian yeast until it reached the shores of the noble bread that were installed on the table like Lakhma bread, as a metaphysics of the Eucharist that was carried out on the white tablecloth, which shrunk every time they took it as a domestic bread rolled around the angry parts of the Mataki tablecloth, for healings that continue the protective actions of those who enjoy a good alliance of water, and bread on the table with bad thoughts, which enrage the battered thick curtains of the abundance of the prosperity of evil. The Iaspis or Jaspes, resembled supra-scalded of natural belonging and of glittering authenticity, in the rarity that made no more than to make jesters of a Southeast Asia and not of Asia Minor. The greenish flashes spoke of life in full force to fit followed by a wisp of flash deposited by Zefian, coming and gliding in the sapphire, holding on to veins of the Alikantus sapphire eyes that were adapted to sip on the dense spring that floated by. the atmosphere of the Mataki, and then pour it into the chalices, absorbed by Leiak's sorcery, speaking of higher lapses than any known numeral, but the seventieth preceding the current one. This martyrdom of the Mataki made Leiak's esophagus segregate with the desire of a sommelier, who sips the distilled water from the glen over the cups that lessened the cruelty, badly criminal of those who do not savor food for another dinner, congratulations, if there was the failure of a Caucasus, where elixirs of mistelated and sanctified muscat wine are brought out from under the table of St. John. Everything was of ascending ambition for any liver that coveted this table of Mataki, for whom he cordoned off the mountains and made those of the valleys embrace one another, for the uniqueness of the Dodecanese islands. The totality of those who let go of their shyness, and did not allow them to refer to drinking or eating, deposed by putting a sacred ear to Zefian when he arrived on Patmos as a physical, and not spiritual, tasting, becoming effective in who toast with muscat for all the star maidens that followed him. above, violating the seals that held them, prisoner, then just then the eye of the Iaspis was made of the carats to recalculate, submitting them to the guard to signify and meet at this time between seven polyelia, and seven diskopótira, immediately to the bag of the fasmatémporos or Breadbasket Enchanted to taste.
Sorcerer Candlesticks
Parable Hippeis above the Eared One: “Kanti; Aristocratic hussar of steeds, a native of Crete, was broken down from servants as a possession of high rank from Thessaly and Argolis. In his frontal Parasinus he ruminated his psychic frontality of not being defeated for the sole fact of being subjected prolonged in helplessness, and stating what he was not capable of winning by defeating a Hippeis when he has imperturbability prior to a master. Therefore he was assigned from the Krepis or crepidorma to the Golden or Golden number. Dividing from all other paranasal sinuses, by less than the base of the kraníon by e long and factored by Pi ( ). In the Paraseno Spheno Palatino of him; the exterior colonnade in eurythmic balance or harmony was provided in order, optical correctness and rational geometric construction with parameters of the Parthenon and spheno ganglion of ribs of the peripteral octasil, surrounding the arcades of the expiration frieze, and exhaling from Zeus the anti-seismic vibrational integuments and neighs of Hippeis, like Kanti exorbitant and convulsive. In his Maxillary Parasinus; he was subjugated in the Architrave of the lower part of the entablature that rests directly on the columns, its structure worked on its servile lintel, to transmit the weight of the roof to the columns and duplicate banalities of the pontificate of the Samarios horses of Orondel. In the parasinus Turbinate Dorsal; a Metope, occupies part of the frieze where the Doric entablature of a classical building would rest, located between two triglyphs. Like a metope decorated with bas-reliefs, in taboric cliffs of Samaria and its horses in neatness of Hippeis blood. Medium Parasinus; the Stylobate, towards the upper step on which the temple rests, forming part of the crepidoma: on a stepped platform that raises the building above the ground level to give it prominence and greater poise. As a staggered middle to the largest of the great final step towards the Koelum, which joins them in their golden edging of the Equisetum like horsetails with green blood. Of the Ventral Parasinus; In The Opisthodome, a separate space located at the back of the temple, a special vestal element is attached together with the Pronaos (or portico) and the Naos (or sanctuary). Here they take refuge for the snout of their cheeks full of Pleiades evading the hunter of Oarion, each one in decreed steeds of Crete and Samaria, that shine in the transition of the oceanic foam that runs by its naturalness in high tides, and in exalted pause erogenous temptation to an Aphroditism. And finally the super Paraseno or Chamber of Canephore, governing and ruling the priestesses of Baal with the steeds of Orondel, for the purpose of sacrificing the sacred courtesans with their hooves that they consecrated in the stylobate, which esoterically became diffuse. Pro reign in the Canephores along with the Vestals, for dichotomous fajina with Hestia between fires and bonfires that will spill from the mysteries of Eleusis.

They had their six Parasenes separated from their numen septum in other castes that super endowed the confusion that came from Samaria in the kingdom of Israel, being a Hippeis of the Elite Greek cavalry. In the farms of this region, one hundred years after the Syrian ******* in this same analogue, Kanti was assigned to openwork in the meadows for agricultural work, adhered to all the Philistine plains. Plethora of exuberance with liters of pinkish Vine before longed for by some, they tore from vine shoots by snouts and Cinnabar sulfur, already encysted in presses and battles of implicit rows of vines burnished by the thickness of their sulfurous secretion, decanting on the exuberant and grassy carpet. In Thessaly Kanti stood out with its supremacy of hydric seed that raised a surplus of rain when the low waters of the Mediterranean rocked the gargoyles on their similar steeds. In the sagittal of his hoof, below the "U" all the Hippeis of Thessaly were marked with the Vox of ππεῖς, but not those of Samaria, they planted their fourth ends on the ground of Deuteronomy; “He fell in love with his mistresses, whose flesh is like that of donkeys, whose flow is like the effusion of horses. He told himself... You longed for the lust of your youth, when Egyptians touched your breast, caressing the ******* of your youth. Continuing in this way Kanti with his chronicles warned that in his militancies and privileges they did not dig select strings of vines when he had to clear his hooves, which were made of fire and steel from Hephaestus bars by order of Etrestles, who distended his agrazones, letting him levitate towards the clouds with the sweet potatoes of their grafted plantations, that burst those esplanades in hydrometeors of tested sweat on the thick legs browsed by the song of their prayers, and thorns that broke their spiky washdown dueling in the cumulonimbus clouds that lavished care that settled before the eyes of Hippeis foremen, where the strains did not ferment like wine that has no vent and makes them burst into new skins. Thus detonates the patience of the gifted steeds of Samaria, towards some new winemakers who would receive him for a grape harvester who brought spices and olives for a new millennium.

The deposits of credibility made everything in their steeds and genetics of a millennium, to be more effective and fruitful for all that Kanti has not stepped on all the Cyclades, Dodecanese and Messolonghi at the same time as Hippeis from Thessaly, but since the optics of the Orondel; who was the duplicate of Kanti Samaritano, bearing ten times the weight that will make him bear together in tons and more than a thousand oil presses that exceed what his body mechanizes like horse power, thus being able to lighten himself in pruning of other regencies that he does not they shake or shake the branches above the tops of Zeus and his molar that neither expectorates nor pulverizes the best without his terrace. Here, where before the trees grew, they grow in the orchard on the outskirts of the town, Kanti frees all the steeds of Samaria with his gravel in his gummed hoof, mining the lands of the kings and digging up napas valued more than all the fruit-bearing heritage, more than in a fifth year along with all the seas, to make of them the ones that are in other uncircumcised as a reward for those who hide from early taming and their slender task. Those gleaned in Thessaly were from pitchforks in the same cereals that gleaned from those who stopped feeding them and assembled in a grass fable of a rustic sower and fallow farm laborers. The spikes did not fall, the Hippeis with Kanti collected them with their extremities legs in provinces of harvest dragged in sheaves and corsican censers of Epha, like a rope of gold and incense of Sheba who thus brought enlargement to Judah and praise to Yahweh. Epha describes the land where the dromedaries arrive in Israel: "A multitude of camels will cover you, the young camels of Midian and Epha." Incense in a sprigs of Bethlehem, with delicious practices inherited from Ruth reaping the barley, oats and wheat in the same stampede of the Hippeis commanded by Kanti thrashing barley, in which an Epha cultivates the Primogen Gramineae of Thessaly”

(Procorus says: "in the defeat of the Persians by the Greeks, in the naval battle of Salamis, in 480 BC, marked the beginning of the decline of the maritime trade of the Phoenicians, here the East was completely extinguished when Alexander the Great took Tyre in 332 B.C., incorporating Phenicia into the Greek Hellenistic world. All the horses that came from Thessaly were all of the lineage of Hippeis de Kanti, with germines from Samaria and Chambers of Canephores)

Parable Ad Libitum Ex Varna: “In the lower and upper parts, a certain anti-demonic air carried a Kerí towards the candles of the Procorus rituals, extending the Eurydice ship that came from Rhodes. On the floor of his cell he had some Tamarisk branches such as Tarayes that vanished due to their quality when they expired at his own monk's feet to become lasting in his Oikodomeo, to raise with the Taray the essences of re-transformation of the lexeme of conventional greenness into Patmos, very deflowered in periods with high untemperances only with some secretions in which Procorus felt the re-flowering adventitious from there and then in the anemophilous advantages of the winds released from the belly in sedimentary veins of Rhodes. In its alchemical anemophilia or movement of inseminating winds, the subtle soil vanished with the force of the Sulfur Lion that derived from the Cinnabar with the Anemoi wind that impregnated the Tamarisk capsules, under the acolyte's feet. The aquifer of the water table of the subterranean waters in Patmos, remnants were scattered so that in Pro Nobis they lay of their demonologies, sponsoring Persian magics of the Lid Post-Gaugamela, with themselves in the Ex Varna with iridescences re-transfigured in the Mount Tabor. Says Procorus: “This Tamarix or Tamarisk has poured limits of our Oikodomeo, to re hold the superficial plate and reuse itself in the absorption of the burning under my feet, forcing them to readapt under the ground scorching concentrated in the Cinnabar residue, carrying the dermal prototype towards the saturated bottom of the salt larvae that prevailed in the pummeled beam of their skill, in some bundles of Tamarisk showing themselves innocuous in the imagination of the cloister suffocated right here by some Chaldean tribes, who felt like the illusionist stand of Ex Varna” . In the compaction of this epic hyper-fantasy, his urge was born from the consecration of the Gift of interpreting the subtlety of two-dimensional variety that would appear up to this moment, beneath the layers that were contaminated out of nowhere by the mere fact of the whim of the augur momentum, which finally it is restricted in the morphism of the Katapausis and chamber of San Juan Apóstol, finally supported by layers and blankets of subterranean aqueous filters towards a restructuring of the plane of Euclid, and towards the vicinity of plantar pedestrian zones of Procorus that were already three-dimensional in the construction of the Oikodome, for the foundation of the Náos or temple, which would go crazy when the Hexagonal Progeniture arrived to build the Vernarthian temple with gifts of multi-construction purgatory for the Oikos in Dwelling of the social unit of Aquarius or Aqua spirits that are terminates at the end of Capricorn dehorned. In mutual edifying peace between both zodiacal proximities of the Oikodomé, here every day specters purged and rubbed in the archetype of the Megaron that was intended to beoblations and in votive links in the massages that the manes of the Vernarthian universe gave them in their spiritual mortar, reconverted in their eternal brawl for living in the friction and brown partitions of the bloodless Megaron to inaugurate it as a solid bastion, in the weak regions of the Hetairoi that cellularly, it snatches energized vitality from their extremities, with total imbalance and wheezy guards maneuvered on their feet, dragging themselves towards the karmic Saetas de Velos Toxeumas and unharmed Dorus. But feverish and threatening their integrity when they were falling and plundering the Euclidean edge, opening up from the designs of the Hellenic palfrey, becoming parametric of Kanti's paranasals and spatiality that would surround the Parthenon of Fidas, with Ikríomas or scaffolding that made them collapse from their coordinates with Mamdilaria and Agiogitiko wine baths on the Vernarthian body between the column of the Sabines and Greek colonies of Lacedaemonians from the 4th century BC. C., already entwined in borders of synchronicity from the Erechtheion, falling from the Caelum, close to all his teachers who helped him install the final tiles of the temple, next to them intoxicated with Nepenthe, by intense vine rain stómas in the silent afternoon of the Inter-Cosmos of Athena, sending them the poison of Velos Toxeumas, a priori… and before attacking any skin that wants to revive itself in the inoculated Vernarthian dreams.

(Procorus, manifested himself solid in his loneliness when seeing that Lacedaemonians and beings of the night accompanied him, in contrast to the dark light that allowed him with a single candlestick to expand more inaccessible in the semi-glyphs in the grooves of the Megaron that shone synarchically in the plans of the new Monastery of Saint John the Theologian) ..

Parabola Megarón Dódeka Spathiá: “Procorus perceptibly saw how the sky of Patmos was crossed by heavy metalloids of bronze, tin and acroballistics; for the cavalry of Kanti and six Para Senos appeared, who used to ride on the roof of the Megarons belling to the sounds of the acroteras. In these episodes in twelve Swords that were multiplied in advance by thousands before the Megaron began to be built. In relevant dimensions and virtual foundation lines, acrostics of steeds from Thessaly on their palfrey mounted Polish Winged Hussars, carrying twelve wings of cuirasses with twelve horsemen, adjoining the halo of heavy cavalry in Katyn, being abducted by a circum-regressive parapsychological Ellipsis of the 1939 event in Poland. Each rider was strung in blood with golden wing feathers. In each of their hands they carried the curved saber Szabla, to cover up the unspoken target of oppressors and musketeer intruders from the armory hearth of the hypothetical enemy-unknown but outsider, assaulting the flanks of the rooftops in the Virtual Megaron of Patmos, using Kopias or pikes that schemed in the impetus of deadly resistance of the betrayed ancestry. The roof that pointed to the south west reflected the light of Orion by aerial forms of the Aegean choir, riding on the high seas with Votive offerings or offerings of Cyclamines and Red Poppies, hovering in majesty in their nomadic obtuse compass of Rhapsodas coffering epic elegies of the Megaron and of those revived venerable triumphs that stretched out on the banner of glory and bed of epiphany. Rhapsode proclaims thus: "In Katyn Wings of Golden Wood and Red Poppy, they adorned themselves with Bellis Perennis in twelve thousand rags in our steppes harassing their moan in blood wars, framed in large sections on the threshold of their mounted war. There were twelve thousand red poppies burning on the executory pilaster near Smolensk.” How much is there to get fed up in the Polish cavalry of the 17th century, that upon glimpsing the barbarous sounds of the temple that approached them to the altar of the Virtual Megaron, showing off in acquiescent ceremonial and counter-revolution of lifeless aristocracy in needy portals-living and mortal-living who posed in the rear of twelve thousand officers slain in the Forest of Katyn, such gentle medieval men in the contemporary untimely invasion. Here in this place the puffed winged horsemen went by destiny when they were sacrificed, like steel cushions they galloped on their heads sheltered by brotherhoods of Hussars that protected them with Lion and Tiger breastplates with retracted claws. Procorus, observed in the virtuous imagery as medieval winged specimens, protected the frontispiece of the Megaron in bullet-ridden super-existence and a trance of historic architectural dread. Here on a Patmian soil, each one of the officers was aided by each 17th century Polish cuirassier with ferocious wings, they were making them agonize with honor and glory, with those similar twice right there of their resemblance, with misty discrepant blood interwoven, executing on apocryphal witnesses who covered themselves with your looks, of overflowing evasion and truce of bodies stained with mourning and despair, with blankets of red poppies scattered adjoining a naive unarmed forest. Over exalted memorandums and secret cries of Adrastea procreating their kind with the nymphs, they drowned out the cries of cuirassiers like Didaskein, before sobbing in their topic, but of Pashkein in the foliage of rotten hopes, of those who hit them from behind, in analogous vexation to heroes of Katyn. Here neither Cronos nor Mother Rhea heard them, only Adrastea prevented the cries of the men-children who were atoned for behind their backs, from venting them from the foliage of the Didaskein-Pashkien, in tears of solid mercury. Kanti's steeds rise, carrying them the curved Zsabla sabers, before each is shot in the head as twelve thousand Winged Riders are caught in each Zsabla. These sacrificed them before they were killed in the waist of his head, not being expired by ammunition but rather by sabers of honor and glory of their own winged protectors, who would lead them by sharp weapons towards the holocaust of the Mashiach surrounded by red poppies. “The red and steamy cendal of the forest carried the souls of the Hussars to pass them through the sabers of their compatriots, before they were immolated by the Soviets, so their apostolic souls will be catechized by Zsablas of dyed airs of Red Poppies converted into air of respite from the heroes of the Katyn Forest, redeemed by the Golden Winged Riders of the 17th century”

(Procorus in the immensity of the voices and epithets that were heard, differed in the volatile and explosive metal sabers at the present time that were extinguished in their crooked armor and in Polish beings, in a rear that finally Procorus settled them in urdes of immaculate habit, suspended in twelve thousand Red Poppies flanked by his forehead before being shot from the cortex and occipital lobe, forging into golden sabers and cenobitic transvestites who received them in arms in the sublime stench of effluvium of their blood and hosts, never left and desisted from bubbling by the figures of the acrotera near the Megarón, ditto in the same Forest of Katyn, surrounded in a string of Rosary that dazzled in Procorus prohijando them)

Parable Fourteen Donítikos: “fourteen vibrations were polarized in the enthronement of Vernarth towards his brother Etréstles, making filial gradation in possible anti-filial conception of worship and death in who is suspended from one to the other under the condemnatory rhythm of past lives. It is typical of the facsimile of his own genetic shadow Cain-Abel, but of geomorphological gradation and time-space, which finally brings them together as blood relatives of the same Orbis Alius trunk. Dismissing by not accessing a vibrational anti-Asur (as a healthy creative mind in Genesis) as an energy that manages to restructure itself in any homologous way in the world of Asur as the son of Shem in Genesis..., as comparative and intergenerational mythology , enlivening socio-parental metaphors, pronouncing in cohesion and enchantment what happens in another similarity of gender or Mental field, staging the probability of a mental Sun that dies in a Super Man, and this comes to free us from the ties of existence and plane terrestrial not reflected of immanent and instance of Eon, in geological and sidereal lives. The scrolls of this semi-myth, is subsequent to hanging scrolls on the will of us existed for thousands of years linked to links and human characteristics of knowledge through professed and comparative feeling. Compensation of material distemper between the anti-pivot and life between both refers to the simultaneous undividedness of each specification as a phenomenon lacking hearing in winter and inclement periods. Here the outburst of retro involutions becomes cloistered in Menatira, daughter of Cránae, Queen of Eleusis Pro Eleusis tally fuzzy from the convulsing breath of both through the steppe of silence, both of them. Dodecahedron on an octagon in each one for each one that was interpolated in each area when Demeter was looking for his first-born Persephone.

“Etréstles metamorphosed, so that Metanira reunited them with the sub-mythology of their destinies and the preconception of the elucubrar of a final breaking of the abstract spell, which was mixed with the element of vehemence in their irascibility to wait for a next season in fourteen toasts followed by Ouzo, and goods with intact and distant deities in oscillation of life-maturity, making it after the eleventh Ouzo in determinism of autonomous eternal substances of the ritual of Elusis, appreciable power and coarseness of the one who has to compensate for the one who has everything and the that will never have it. (Eternal Life Spell)”

a) Abundance of rain of red blood cells, in quotation marks of the legacy of Bios as all deprivation of life file, rather for those who yearn for it between a physical trifle alibi...

b) Psujé for Vernarth, “For whoever wants to save the life of his soul, he will lose it”. But he will restore it if he is saved by divine psychology muscle."

c) Zoé, “radiosity and refraction of etherization and physicality, more than a biological physical body re-transformed into purging from the superior to the inferior multi-created, but in a Jesuit adjective and sphere of consequent concatenation towards the plane of the

Mashiaj as holistic of the human cave ecstasy, in inflexible marriage between heaven and earth Ad Aeternum”

(Procorus, auto-irrigated red blood cells, to deliver them both, and relevel the levels of red blood cells of the Mashiach's divine blood, which expected to be refounded in both brothers of the Vibrational in Fourteen Donítikos or Hellenic Vibrations, with the initial D in the lower left ear and the S in the upper right of the vibrational field of the Tinnitus of God, with their ears placed in their hands, take them by their ossicle and from them in the curvilinear dawn that vibrates in what He only wants to do to them Dodeká).
Procorus  IV
the dirty poet Dec 2018
imagination is my best drinking buddy
i’ll always pick up the check
on this prison planet, fantasy is the liberator
it pulls down every cloud
undresses the ladies
expunges adultery
pulverizes the patriarchy
obliterates mommy
flattens fatty tissue
bulldozes boredom
annihilates procrastination
decimates iron-poor literature
gobbles up poverty
overthrows the workplace
abolishes taxation
liquidates profit
exterminates capitalism
confuses the cops
torpedoes certainty
trashes common sense
wrecks mortality
exterminates the divine
fantasy, the one-stop shopping mall
of freedom
Travis Green Jun 2023
His strong hot rod is
The most thrilling treasure
That mesmerizes me deeply
That makes me crave him
Deep in my mouth

Feel his long, thick piece poke
And smoke my throat
Melt my heart and soul
Make me high as a *******
Hold on to his thick tattooed thighs

Admire his bright divine sight
His ripped, kissable abs
With big Zaddy vitality
I wanna bob on his rock-solid throbbing rod
Give a mad hot dose
Of his overflowing passion

Cause me to gasp as I snack on
His pleasure monster pumper
Run my fingernails
Up and down his dreamy manly waist
Crash-hot magical kisses

Delicious lips lock
Sprightly smiles, beguiling eyes
He is so ******* seductive
The touch of his sturdy construction
Enraptures my whole world

Makes me so bowled over
By his majestic poetic flow
The most heart-stopping macho charmer on the planet
The type of desirable fiery knight
That has me so in love with his untouchableness

Such a nasty passionate smash
I dig his rhythm of virility
He got gangbuster game that hypnotizes me
That makes me hanker
To collide with his enticingness

Make my gleaming cream pies
Shake from side to side
Make me sweat as I taste
His unparalleled sensational enchantingness
He pounds my mouth

Pulverizes my entireness
Finesses my **** velvet playground
Makes me choke on his dope man-motor
**** his bouncy danging coconuts
***** his hypnotic hips

Lick him everywhere
Let him **** my face ungovernably
Plunge deep into my throat
Knock me sideways
Make me speak ****** ****

Arrest me from head to toe
Give him the hottest mind-blowing *******
I didn’t know a potent rugged Romeo like him
Could have me blissed out
Desiring him for hours on end

Listen to his top-notch baritone voice
The foul slang that rises from his mouth
His bang-up bulging muscles
His oohs and ahhs take my breath away
The way he licks his lips
Leaves me so **** speechless

I call his name, feel his intensifying flame
Streaming within my domain
I am so wet for his flex
So lost in the way he gazes at me
With his amorous eyes

I will do anything for him
Keep him rock-hard
Face down on his long, suckable sausage
I wanna know what it feels like
To be stupefied in his sight

Feel him ****** my jaw-dropping knobbers
Arouse them, bite them
Make me feel his formidable heat
Turn me on with the way he slays my nation
Make me breathe heavily

****** my mouth with his manhood
Tell me how ******* lit my ****-hot head game is
Shove his hella hung junk down my throat
Shoot his *****, make me crunk and drunk
Crushing on a hunkish luscious stunner like him
Travis Green Jul 2023
He is the mesmerizing man of my dreams
So fresh, majestic, and sexalicious
So dopacetic, effervescent, and magnificent
I dig his enchanting manly form
The supreme strength of his sensually
Adventurous masculinity, the hardness of his arms
His brazenly badass pecs, his succulent triumphant arms

He makes my bright flamboyant eyes
Dance with unparalleled amorosity
He brings me superabundant bliss
Makes my world shine bright
When I scope out his saucy sizzling splashiness
His smashingly spectacular machoness

Hold me in his strongly built arms
Feel his warm breath against my neck
His hands against my bare fabulous *******
Plant dreamy lingering kisses
All over my gorgeous gleaming skin

Set me ablaze, take my breath away
Flick and grip my pinchable peaks
As I marvel at his flawless remarkable charmingness
My four-star strapping Boss Daddy
My rare debonair attraction
My pleasant perpetual sunshine
That makes me smile for hours on end

Shake me down, take me down
Alluring lover boy, grind on me
Make me feel every ounce
Of his astounding virileness
Feel his ****** energy encompass me

Lay in his luscious embrace
Let him overpower my gayness
Devour me, shower me
With his eternal immersive superlativeness
Make my feminineness concede to his masculineness

Take control of my wholeness
Make me float in his flaming
Wide-ranging ocean of impassioned rhapsody
Devote myself to his smoking hot imposing dopeness
Let him arrest and undress my mindset

Make me so ******* delirious
As he seduces my queerness
Taste every inch of me
Make me his most precious possession
Everything he needs to be complete

Enter the deepest parts of my vessel
Make me so wet and obsessed
With the way he finesses my mind, body, and soul
Give me all of his super sensual sauciness
Call out his name as he pulverizes my entireness

Traces my piping-hot phenomenal playground
Make me moan, move his strong hands all over me
Explore me to the core
Make me scintillate like a breathtaking landscape
Feel the deepest and hottest emotions

Take me to his pound ground
Shove his heavy pleasure stretcher in my flower shop
Make me feel the softest I have ever felt
So wrapped up in his salient delectable majesticness
Stretch my walls properly

Let his sparkling chocolate *****
Rub against my desirable massageable thighs
*** me up to the limit
Come to a steamy intriguing pinnacle
And spin out his rich milky *****
Deep in my sweet, succulent ****
Travis Green Jul 2023
Kiss me, take me, lick me, embrace me
Take me in his rock-solid arms
Make me feel all of his sizzling hot masculinity
Feel his heavenly manly lips against my neck
Clamp his teeth on my ample brown mounds

******* tantalizing tips
Devour me with his romantically captivating eyes
Grab me, hijack me, smash me
Strip me naked, tell me how ******* hot I am
Regulate my gayness, make me sweaty as ****

Take me down, take me to pound town
Slam his firm, ****-worthy snake
Inside my pool of wetness
Enter the door of my core
Make me love him more and more

Slap my cheeks, spit in my face
Choke my throat, fill my **** reverent lips
With ****** sloppy kisses
Stuff his hung love gun in my guts
Make me shout while he pulverizes
My sweet tight center of paradise

**** me harder, Daddy
Hit me in all the right places
Feel his hot bouncy rocks
On my jaw-dropping rearguard
Make me scream as he stings my innerness

Spread my legs, make me lose my breath
Lick me all over, **** my engorged chocolate points
Be my passionate staggering master
Talk ***** **** to me
Shake my foundation

Go wild in my insides
Be my **** fantasy enchanter
Give me all of his thick magic stick
Make me take that ****
Stare at him as he murders my ****

Make me weak in the knees
Tell me to push my hole out
While he overpowers my heart and soul
Brand his infectious delectableness all over my flesh
Make me so hot on his delicious vigorous sauciness

Control my ocean with his magic potion
Make me wild with excitement
As his firmness surges in my inner world
**** me harder, explore me everywhere
Climb to a rip-roaring ******
And shoot his man cream all over my shimmering derriere
Travis Green Nov 2023
His ****** baritone voice
Sparks my desire
Sets me afire
Makes me hanker
To be surrounded
By his majestic ocean of affection

His unbelievably handsome machoness
Creates a mouthwatering symphony
In my mouth and throat
He permeates my mental landscape
With fantastical dreams
Of his phenomenally extraordinary splashiness

His manly pose makes my head spin
Draws me closer to his unrivaled mountain
Of astounding adventures
My dapperly, fashionable boss daddy
My sultry toothsome lover man

Everything about him heats me up
I am so enraptured
By his immaculate, beardtastic ****** hair
I crave to escape
Into his captivating hazel eyes

Discover the depth and breadth
Of his multidimensional nature
Grip me with infatuation
Sway my gay creation
Uncover his nakedness

Amaze me with his meaty, tasty snake
His big bouncing *****
His thick thighs, I admire
Lickable, powerful legs
Muscle-bound feet

I can’t resist the temptation
For him to take me down
Caress my impressive ******* aggressively
Tease my private regions
Seize and imprison me

Devour my sweetness
Lick me, finger me, overpower me
Venture inside me with his turgid burrito
Dominate my chocolate-box candy shop
Make me moan long-windedly

Make me writhe as he pulverizes my tightness
Provide me with satisfying delight
Crash into me like boundless seamless seas
Colliding with a fun-loving, pizza-eating surfer
Rise to a ****** of ****** pleasure
Immerse me in his hot, sticky banana juice

— The End —