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Dexter Portalis May 2015
It started with our late nights and early morning conversations
The random occasions that turned into night caps of psychological ******* is what intrigued me
I only want to know her on a platonic level
I want us to feel something different
Something real
Because truth is when you speak
I get a little weak
The vibrating waves of your voice sends my adrenaline into a rush of multiple frequences
It causes me to have premature ventricular contractions
Meaning you make my heart skip beats
In other words I want us to have soul ***
Our bodies to touch but with clothes on because you haven't been fully naked until you've allowed your fears to be exposed
Understand this isn’t a ****** prose
I want this poem to reroute the superficial ****** game that men played with you
Tonight my only intentions are for us to get high
But not with herbs
I want us to be faded with nouns and verbs that speak life as I ignite this erratic twelve play because the foreplay is just for play
Eargasms that constrict our minds let our spirits bind from the moments when I forgot to pull out by not realizing I was coming on too hard
No need for protection when we experience the cerebral stimulating erections from the raw ******* of sedated discussions
Imagine the eruptions you’ll experience when you vibe off me
Can you feel it yet? No?
Maybe a little deeper is what you need
I need for you to feed me your thought process so I can taste your emotions
If this poem had a body you would be the brain
So let me investigate your introspection by interviewing every inch of you
Reaching the climactic **** of this conversation by deep stroking into your deepest seas so I can see exactly what lies inside a divine mind
You will make the seven wonders wonder where they went wrong
A love we share that's so vividly deep even the four oceans will be jealous of its depth
I want us to be in depth with each other
I want my thoughts to wrestle with your feelings and your questions play hide and go seek with my answers
Suffocate me with your beauty
Ravish me with every word so I feel the sensations from two sapiosexuals making love
I want us to stargaze under Jupiter’s moon as we stare into the solar system trying to combine our souls with God’s system
Let’s touch each star as we track down a meteor shower and shower each other with laughs for hours until you’ve fallen asleep on my chest
And the best part of it all is watching you sleep
Because as you lay here
I have dreams about your dreams
Then realize how jealous I am because your dreams can see parts of you that I’m still dying to meet
So if I am someday privileged to make this come true, you must allow me to fall in love with you
Chapter XXI
Hegira to Patmos

They dropped their moorings from Cala Cogone early, when the tide seemed to be separated from the waters like a head distanced from its body. On a lavish and romantic day they went to Genoa, to continue the logistics of the trip to Piacenza. During the trip Etréstles was stretched out in the bow under a Sun that seemed to be fearsome as it was a digestive task that would make him ingest his own dream, which perhaps he aspired to be more than a journey. While he slept, at the helm Etréstles dressed in a black robe and the comrades also sleeping with dreams that they painted with sign gestures on their faces.

Dream of Etréstles: "With the memory off-center ..., I was still in Izzana, dancing by the clouds on gray tulles of the layers of the sky that tried to stop being a Kingdom without a Crown and Sword". They glimpsed the stones melting and turning into gauze juxtaposed to the aerosolites that unfolded from the Sorcery, landing on the hands and heads of Vernarth and Himself. As he continued his dreamy journey, he dialogued with the auxiliary legate of his own dream. “He tells her that he sees them beyond where their liturgies collide. They cross eroding the vanished and itinerant reason”. He gets up and takes the moorings of the ship and ties them to his neck. Then everyone cooperates to walk along the edge of the ship, which all moved barefoot. This is how I would wake up!

Vernarth tries to wake him up, shakes him, but doesn't wake up. And when he tried to avoid him from sleep, he saw that he had the moorings around his neck, along with two Unicorns who were escorting him and were looking towards infinity, auspicious that Genoa was already coming in front of their horns. The others began to wake up and ate reclining, almost as if without any desire to get up from the deck full of self-sliding linen, which allowed everyone to pass their own meals, including those that were semi-consumed rolling on the deck. Etréstles,  transferred the dream to Vernarth, once he went to his bedroom to rest before they touched the roadstead at the foot of the homonymous promontory, 36 km from Genoa.  Portofino, close to the hydro form of the Portofino Regional Natural Park.  Being able to find different entrance doors through S. Rocco, Portofino Vetta and Nozaregoino  that led you to paths with different levels of accessibility and landscape. On the route of the path that traveled from Northwest to Southwest on the same promontory, he received the full beauty of the Mediterranean vegetation, with its beautiful pines, bluish and clean waters of the Mediterranean, which filled his lungs and especially his stem, which silenced of peace to those who accompany you through this interesting and beautiful Natural Park with deep blue eyes.
Vernarth is wrapped with two layers of linen and stands in between eclipsing each of the Unicorns. They pass her horn through her pectoral, as if wanting to insinuate affection. But her propitiated gesture was to crown her with the Power of her phalanx, the impetus in Gaugamela, an Onyx Crown, to lighten the burden of sleep and wake up before reaching the shores of Genoa.
Calling in Genoa, they all descend in a separate part and say goodbye from afar, gesturing with their hands. Their ramblings revealed multi-level radiographs of the resolved aura that invited them to an enclave hostel, to re-enter the world of their daily chores. The Unicorns who would return back to Sardinia stayed on the ship that was in the blue bay. They positioned themselves at the bow one and at the stern the other, to lighten the sails and return to Izzana.

Vernarth and Etréstles walked with their bags, letting go of their feet towards La Via ** Settembre, they travel in an east-west direction, next to Corso Italia, the promenade that runs along the promenade, which is one of the favorite places to reform the destination of Piacenza. From this road they moved near the adjacent carriage station to the Caruggio neighborhood in Sottoripa. Here they entered an inn to eat and drink liqueurs made from natural herbal recipes and sweet citrus, some fish with bread, sauce and Genovés sourdough. to satisfy their hunger.
They had dinner and opened the exit to the terminal. Before, they went to the Ponte Monumentale where the church dedicated to Santa Rita is, called Iglesia de la Consolación, whose entrance, at the level of the old streets, is slightly lower than the current street. They pass a porch and enter. "Almost like a grand cloister sensation they perceived during their stay, as if centuries had passed, but which never ended in the wanderings of any secular period. It was the impression once entered and soaked on this road, which still remains active. From this original cloister, the invocation of images on the sides placed towards the church towards Via ** Settembre, as well as the closed portal in the market access plaza on Via Galata, recur, while the other two sides are they completed attractions to admire when the eastern market in Genoa appeared before them ”.

When they entered, the masks were passed over the bones of their faces, indulgent towards both faces of the visitors, under a freshness of gravitational atmospheric fragrance, perhaps from the connected baptismal font or the lateral nave or the three naves separated by square pillars illuminating them. This is where Vernarth places his right hand on his forehead and his mouth, as a sign of catechesis detached from The Vault, the central nave and the counter-facade that were painted in fresco in 1874 by Giuseppe Isola, after reading about the intertextual verifying thus Vernarth. (Visioni dell'Apocalisse, Gloria di Nostra Signora della Consolazione and Giuditta rientra trionfante in Betulia), while Etréstles frenziedly admitted the frescoes through the side aisles that are the work of Giovanni Quinzio at an angle close to him. Observing everything, he was already indoctrinating to reprint new vigor to enter Piacenza triumphantly and head to the Region of Patmos. Giuseppe Isola's fresco was the great motive that struck his reason for being where he was to continue the threads upon threads of his lineage as the great Commander of the troops of Gaugamela and his Phalanges. Here is the church in its first tune with the duty of limitlessness before its steps to dominions that will make it recover their powers, from where they were first seen dressing in the clothes of an innocent child.


In the apse, there was the choir singing baroque pieces, and followed by elaborate wooden stalls from the 17th century. In the Altars on the left, on the Fifth Altar, Etréstles, captures a simultaneous vision. From that moment when it was the disappearance of this Santa Maria della Pace church, which could have been one structure on top of the other, perhaps in ruins but if the columns could go further from where their originals are born. Until then both had separated from each other, and they would meet again here in the apse, where they never lose sight of each other again, to turn towards the exit that required them to leave the sacred precinct. In the terminal, a grayish float awaited them, with silver trim on the edges of the structure, at the top of the front roof it said "Where you must never go and be". It was just the transport of an allegorical float. They were theatrical traveling artists, who had places available for travelers to Piacenza. The one that they just approached to move to the home, where they had to register at their own will and rejoin this excellent session "Parapsychological Regression".The Trebbia valley, a few kilometers from Piacenza. Vernarth noted that a shaft of the chariot made a strange sound. To which he notified the driver, telling him what he caught on the rear axle of the carriage. They go down to inspect all; not being able to detect anything that it would suppose would be an anomaly of filming of the instrumental east. Etréstles sees that some steeds were grazing on some meadows and he tells them all. Vernarth warns him and immediately heads to them. It reaches only a sorrel that was running its tongue over its hoof. The others flee. Vernarth approaches, and notices that he had a wound in his left hoof, noticing that in the center there was a strip of Green color, He takes his leg, and examines it. He takes out his dagger and begins to remove the stake that was inserted into his damaged leg. The others were gone, restarting the trip to Piacenza. Etréstles managed to climb a steed, and followed him - The float remained without them supposedly to arrive safely at Piacenza. But at 5 km, before reaching the city they are struck by a lightning bolt from a sudden storm. What misdirects his route - the passengers were left intact, only fatally suffered the loss of the driver. (It was verified by Vernarth when he arrived at his home in Piacenza).   As  Vernarth rode fast in the storm, trying to catch up with the carriage. Stress them towards the same to reach their brother. They rode propagating the pastures that passed near the forests of Val Trebbia. When the storm intensified instantly, it was wise to take refuge and wait for the flood to decrease. They were always close to each other. Etréstles about 18 km from Vernarth, they did not know it, but the horses sensed each other. They already distinguished, that they were close to each other, but it was necessary to take care of the horse, and have to check its hoof again. He checks it and notices that it had a green stripe in the four parts, like a pigment already placed concentrically in the middle of each hoof.


Ellipses Gaugamela - Final War
Vernarth bids farewells farewell. Once the Achaemenides are surrendered, he prepares to review them. Walk with Alikanto across the ****** plain. Reviewing his five hundred dead and three thousand wounded, he goes to recirculate in the footsteps of the attack, manages to see lead as a sentinel gathered wounded horses, but not serious. He approaches him and says Khaire; asking what unit they came from. He tells them of the Hosts of the command of Hefestion. The sentinel tells him, that he was enraptured by the fact before his eyes to see that all the horses of the line of Hefestion, Alexander the Great and Vernarth, to fascinate him that they had a green stripe on his left hoof. Wedge riders are formed, lining up the stable, towards the court of the guards and Macedonian monarchs. She dismounts from Alikanto and checks the chestnut trees, managing to insinuate that it could be Medea's ploy of the smiling charm towards her Hetairoi dancers, whose elite had bracelets on each leg on each chestnut. Also with the offensive weapon, they acted as the Macedonian's personal guard. Vernarth recalled that, before starting the offensive, with his blessed Xifos he inflicted light wounds on the left foot of his Phalanges in the act of "overtaking them before being stained by the enemy"

Vernarth says: Here is the cavalry that has received so much praise for «hammer» in the strategies, because it crushed the enemy units retained by the «anvil» or the «phalanx» that I had to command and lead the charge, intoning the riders. And even more the circumcisions that he gave them before entering combat. With the Hetairoi I was organizing squadrons of 200 to 300 soldiers, while they were checking the chestnut trees. In the campaign, they would ride the best horses, ******* or on the blanket, they were awarded the best weapons available. Each carried his long throwing spear Xyston, accompanied by a Kopis sword, for hand-to-hand combat, which in the interlude would defend his flax and bronze breastplate, with respective protective armbands and helmet, before lightly tackling his aggression . The horses were also partially protected, but not their hooves! I gave them the final instruction by decree to take them to the altarpieces and attend to them, so that they check their left hoof.Thus giving signs of great concern about the green stripe on each of its left hooves. Sentinel Hetairoi, with some of his servants, gather the animals and transport them where they have been ordered to tend and examine them. As the designs collapse over the night in gloomy litanies, Medea bursts into a great green outfit saying:

Medea: Vernarth, rancid are on my memory the potions and designs of those who want to talk about me or offer me in their lust.Where the zeal of anxiety deceives the wishful arms that welcome the victorious pleasure. Hooves are my skeptics and famous decisions, because I am weak in will but not in character. Green is the pouring of my converted powers into the veins of the horses. They were carriers in their eloquent ferocity. Instead of blood, I had sap from the magic vessels that I transferred to them so as not to doubt the doubts. Their object is that a green band was encased in their hooves as a sign of the Hipnos promontory through their Son Clovis, to plunge all the forests of the raging underworld, towards the heart of each "Valiant Hetairoi".


Outside ellipsis / near Piacenza
Vernarth and Etréstles in a post-storm clearing, a soft breeze greets them and they meet again, they greet Khaire! And together they reroute to the empty pastures, which would gradually begin to venture them through the farthest forests of the Val Trebbia. On some brown plains with poor colors that visited him falling as they faded on his mirage. From this unusual crossroads they will supremely perceive the closeness of Piacenza in their breathing.
Now they are in the vicinity of the Cimitero de Piaceza. Then they will have to go home on the Via Giovanni Codagnello, on the calendar of January 2020. The Parapsychological Regression continues.


Piacenza Cemetery, January 20, 2020
Vernarth and Etréstles entered the necropolis long before sunset. They were carrying a cake to celebrate Vernarth's birthday. Night Patrol joined the visit. In particular, they followed a night watch service that was active, trusting their guide Piacenza or the surrounding area, with 3 internal night patrol passages 365 days a year, for the rest of lives beyond all material life, perhaps turned into marble statues.
They hired a special service dedicated to the approved service for 2 people .; They were active during the caretaker's office opening hours (the same opening hours as the cemetery). With this service they overcame difficulties to walk after so much traveling. They leave the green-hoofed horses, now turned into statues. They request authorization from the entrance cemetery offices, to honor their belonging and to please those who visit them on their behalf. In Genoa, after having passed through the exterior without entering, they were ecstatic with the Staglieno Cemetery in Genoa (the most monumental in Italy).But if they enter the Piacenza, where the sanitary monumentality passed through the real function of such an enclosure in the contingency. It was commented by the neighboring offices that the migration of corpses from Bergamos were moved to Modena, Acqui Terme, Domodossola, Parma, Piacenza to carry out the respective ceremonies. Due to the great Viral Pandemic that decimated a great majority of Italian citizens in these areas. Vernarth became aware of the current reality, saw how a gravedigger conversed with the crowds, there was a nurse, a doctor and a prodigal man who concentrated on uploading moods to those who were there, almost like a caster, to relieve them of this transitory despite humanity.
They continue past the pyramidal pines, to the central pavilion. They sit on the edge of some flagstones, and take the cake to celebrate their birthday. They sing a hymn and they both enjoy it lovingly. Etréstles saw that he had a little cream left on his nose and cheekbone, running his hand to remove it. In the instant, the guard calls them; it was time to go because it was time to close the compound. They say goodbye with a monumental hug paying tribute to their brother!


Etréstles says: Honors Vernarth, for your immeasurable Valor! It is a great contribution that we divide our work and commitments. From here I go to the Messolonghi Cemetery. I will only wait for the crescent moon to meet the Charioteer, then leave with him and my beloved Drestnia. My Xifos Sword in my right hand and the head that I cut off in my left hand, in Gaugamela before that rugged fate! Khaire, My honors Commander Etréstles!. It remains in the shadow of some pyramidal pine trees of this sublime night, and then they distance themselves. Vernarth leaves the compound heading towards his house relatively close to the cemetery, on the Via Giovanni Codagnello.


Final session in Vía Codagnello, Piacenza:
Vernarth enters opens the door and everyone is waiting for him. Huge groups of friends, work colleagues, family, their pets, and especially the Parapsychologist, who had commanded this whole great session. They all approach her and in the instant, Vernarth awakes abruptly from the parapsychological session. They stabilize it and check your vital signs. There were many days of this odyssey. His awakening was mediatic, since they were attentive to him to question him and confess everything, but he was clear that his purpose would lead him to the confines of Patmos along with Raeder and Petrobus. It remained only to wait for the tenuity of a simple immortal warrior to assist in the services of John the Evangelist. The parapsychologist says you have to wake up, you can no longer be AND stay here in this temporary tube!
Once he has refused to wake up, he takes the itinerary to return to Macedonia. The visibly worn and stunned parapsychologist demands that he give up and obey his command. The effort was unproductive, only letting himself be carried by the grip of his right hand, taking his other with great vigor to remove it from shamelessness, from whom he does not suppress his pride to who still remains wounded by the swords that bleed his soul in Gaugamela. "Everyone is amazed and resigned !, pointing out that he must have always been in the surroundings of his beloved Macedonia, cutting the bursts of succulent insolence on the same temperate cliffs, where some variation of the sounds of the wind would make him saddle his Alikanto to acclaim the gods who came looking for him ”

Vernarth is engulfed in ambivalence, almost celebrating his birthday and waking up from his parapsychological journey. Both will take place, but the session will continue irrevocably. After a few days close to the first day of the crescent moon, he greeted him from a privileged place on his house Etréstles de Kalavrita who was with the Charioteer in his car and Drestnia, they went in that masterful car to join the chores of the Koumetrium Messolonghi (Editorial Palibrio - USA) .So returning to Messolonghi, to meet his disciples and essences of the foundation of his naturalness.


Hegira to Patmos
On a gray day in July 1820. Piacenza slept under the ambush of the revolution, in Italy there was a situation similar to that of another European nation. Vernarth was preparing his last details with the parapsychologist, to undertake his Hegira to Patmos, since he was a revolutionary and this was of great motivation to emigrate from this constant stage of Wars and sociopolitical processes. Manage to be a participant in this revolt in the Piedmont area. Its ideological axes were liberalism and nationalism. Given that the most affected countries were those of southern Europe (episodes from other areas, such as Germany or France, were much less important), with Spain as epicenter of a movement that extended to Italy and Portugal, and on the other hand Greece; It has been called the Mediterranean cycle as opposed to the Atlantic cycle that had preceded it in the previous generation (the first liberal revolutions or bourgeois revolutions, produced on both sides of the ocean: the Independence of the United States -1776- and the French Revolution -1789- ). As compromised great principalities of much of Europe were banned, it participates in great dissolution of collisions and invasions that involved it. In this way he would liberate his Homeland, especially his province of Piacenza.

Although the "Kingdom of Italy" as such did not exist, there were two great kingdoms that participated in the Revolutions of 1820: the Kingdom of Naples and the Kingdom of Piedmont. However, most of the revolutionary movements were driven by secret societies, such as coal. The Kingdom of Piedmont was also one of the most affected, since it was at the epicenter of Italian nationalism. It was controlled by Víctor Manuel I, member of the House of Savoy and defender of the Old Regime. The monarch had only been on the throne for 6 years, since he returned to Turin in 1814 due to the defeat of Napoleon. Since his return, various factions within the country advocated for a unification of all the Italian kingdoms. The unstable situation of its neighbor, the Kingdom of Naples, caused the carbonarians within Piedmont to revolt in March 1821.

Conclusive Hegira ellipsis to Patmos:
After this great conflict, he orders his parapsychologist to resume his final session in Patmos; he begins the procedure for the era that he had to trespass anachronistically, returning to the era of the Macedonian Empire. The parapsychologist asks him time, place, dates, clothing, customs, and manages to meet his request. He enters the portal, and in the backwaters of Messolonghi he meets Raeder and Petrobus. They were close to this heroic land, Messolonghi in the Gulf of Patras, the capital of Aetolia-Acarnania. Nothing less than in the land of his Brother Etréstles "Koumeterium Messolonghi".


"They all approach the vicinity, pray three times to heaven, and manage to be abducted to the underworld of Messolonghi. When they were snooping through the catacombs, they make out the surroundings of a luminous vault, thus distinguishing a woman passing by with others. It was the beautiful nymph Eurydice inaugurating The Constitution of a new Government”.
Eurydice and the gravediggers worked for the new government to be instituted. They were reviewing the last ground plans that converged on the tenth cemetery.
Eurydice ...: with the absence of Etréstles and Drestnia we will make her awakening continue, whose awakening phase closely relates to her wife.
Grave ...: Where do we start?
Eurydice ...: by the southwestern statue of Ashurbanipal, to pay tribute to Botsaris. Then, we will go up to receive the cordoned off tomb of Bramante and Ghiberti, so that the latter can advise us regarding the work to be erected.
They climb the northeast pavilion to the foundations of a mausoleum. They approach the slab of Ghiberti, who was loosening his fingers, sitting on the shore of a Pyramid-shaped cypress. Bramante vanished into the gray beams of light...

Ghiberti ...: I already know your mission. I am summoned to the Council on the day of the sailors' return. To start, they went to the mines to look for precious stones, stones to build Markos Botsaris.
Eurydice ...: Good! Well, in nine moons and nine suns they will return from the coasts of Morocco, the last docking point, so that they can then return. At the moment they are already warned.
Just back, there was a Lover with her right hand holding her chin.

Inamorada In Love ...: Five centuries ago I awaited my awakening, my lover promised to return ... with these verses...:
"I want to be different,
I want to take you my love...
and tell you that by missing you
there is no greater sadness than not seeing you ...
Forgive me for not coming back...
before my absence caused your death,
Wait for me ... I'm going to tell you ... how I miss you
Along with my immortality of feeling...!  How I miss you...!!

... He still tells me this, but from here, under the embankment of the cemetery I feel that he is far away and I can do nothing. Also, I have it in my memory and one day we will meet here. The Enamorada continues to sit and watch armies of soldiers being thrown into graves, their bodies severed. As she continues; ... there is more life here than on the surface, and the trenches replace the concave wombs, as vessels! As everything here lives, even the flowing and hallucinatory invocations are perceived from the Poets, Alchemists and Astronomers. They make the invisible go in a formidable adventure to the site of their magical hallucinations.
Eurydice ...: Stay on your stone, with your chiffon dress; here you will see the arrival of Etréstles. He will bring news from other lands to answer you. Now dispense if we delay, sadness will fall on the other beings who are being buried and transhumated. The Enamorada remained on the stone with her knees resting on her chest. Eurydice and her assistants went to their rooms. "
All this they manage to witness, and then go in search of Etréstles on the same tenth cemetery floor. Raeder and Petrobus were laughing and at the same time they were impressed, as if wanting to remember him when they have to leave directly from Messolonghi to Patmos, towards the Dodecanese region. In the meantime Vernarth was searching for his brother in all the nearby areas of the catacombs flashing penetrating light, unable to find him. He arrives at the ninth cemetery and is fascinated by a feminine image that would seem like a phantasmagorical chimera ..., it was Drestnia moistening some ferns on some crypts making gestures to see them already grown, even if they had just been planted...!

They approach her intimacy and ask her greetings, Drestnia answers them abstractedly that Etréstles traveled to Patmos to applaud the maiden ceremonies that would be wed in the spring in the nearby meadows. Being able to settle in The Monastery of Zoodochos Pigi, and who later went to the hills of Castelli, as it has been known that everything has been celebrated on a hill that many hundreds of years ago has sheltered our historical fragrances in the unity of the ethereal until the present. Such ruins among some works as well as the Temple of Apollo that will continue to survive with its prevailing mystery not revealed.
Etréstles gives them their congratulations and wraps his arms around Drestnia. They evacuate the cemetery, remaining abstracted in the internal darkness of the catacombs with fewer lights than a feasible twilight of darkness, as if immediately leaving Etréstles to be with him in the spring, shedding light on herself taking them to the Castelli hills, which they would figure in the sweetened exaltation of the pollinations of the nymphs on the maternal and ****** maidens.

They go out and spread their impulses over the promontory of the Koumeterium of Messolonghi with Raeder and Petrobus on Raeder's shoulders. Vernarth invoked the north with her staff where Alikanto would appear with her hooves with greenish stripes.

Raeder says:  Let's go. On those warm currents to follow we will not unite you Vernarth. Smiling, the fantastic boy danced, forming figures that enlivened him to hold on to the legs of Petrobus. They both stared at Vernarth and raised high above the warm clouds. Beneath the Messolonghi miniature, she had Vernarth's sights on them; she was putting reins and her Hoplite tunic, to mount Alikanto. He looks around and makes a big sign to Raeder to follow him to where he was, they suspend themselves and manage to go back to the highest mass of misty airs that would take them against the clock towards Patmos to meet Saint John and Etréstles.
HEGIRA TO PATMOS  /  COPYRIGHT
Odd Odyssey Poet Jun 2018
I often feel mistaken to the fact that I could be doing wrong a thousand times,
Simply because the fact I could be telling a thousand more lies.
Well truthfully speaking it felt so easy to get lost in something wrong,
Numbing myself in what my spirit tells me not to do.  Yet still doing it for so very long.

So anyway I woke up today pretty much same as I always have and sometimes will.
Though, shouldn't I be waking up to find new ways to put my troubles to rest and not let them  roam free to ****.

Troubled by so many many things.
What does my own future hold for me. Memories of how many times I've fallen in love yet they were all just so many flings.

But not the love for a living being,  rather the living desires of a lustful heart.
Obsessed with how their sweet taste breaks me and rips my spirit right apart.

Just a ticking time bomb, that I desperately need the codes to defuse.
If I could go back in time to guide my former self,  I would teach  you how to refuse.
But it's best not to live in such a distant different past, for I find hope in this today's counting.
Though I may have lost track of my own plot, I just simply need rerouting.

So reroute my mind,
So I may become to myself a much better kind.
(alternate title – A bona
er fide dog day afternoon delight).

A mere half dozen vowels
constitute the English language
    Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay
Consonants comprise majority
  
(sans remaining twenty)
     Ta Deum, whereby both
     in tandem allow, enable and provide
     avast combination

    donning brooks at bay
ample lettered permutations
offer opportunities, where methinks
mother tongue avails

     allows, enables and provides thyself
tubby spell as sigh arrange
     passions linkedin to create, evoke
and generate plenti

     of romantic expressions to convey
an amorous, bedazzling conception
describing ******, graphic,
     and iconic ****** propensities
  
this cobbler, dabbler,
     and fiddler (no,
     not on the roof) doth display
his penchant, lament bent infatuation

     with these twenty-six symbols
     that **** hen ewe to evolve,
     and breed vernacular words
     to reflect from an eBay

definitions apropos
     to the present, which
Uber state farm quixotic oeuvre,
and matchless kindling

     ******* serves as foreplay
for this heterosexual ma reed male
     caressing, finessing, and integrating
expressions of speech

     oft times spurs
     (what might seem as noun sense),
I ponder the peccadilloes
     being sixty nine shades of gray

yet quickly reroute
     ****** predilections
     albeit rolling in the hay
whence this dis straw t fellow
  
conjures affinity,
     comity and excitability
latent within the consanguinity
of bossy verbs assaying boisterously
  
an interjection tubby
     top dog capstone amidst kennel
of barking canines couching
     with another similar subject
  
each with their body electric
nestled upon a davenport faux pas inlay
in conjunction with another
     furry four legged friend,

     the direct object
particularly eye ying a ***** in heat,
     who **** okay
to buffer end an un

     pro noun sub bull underdog species,
     who feels passé
with ****** faw paw play
though averse to insult

     shaggy scoobie doo,
whose bark a role overture
     willingly doth goad her to doggy paddle
while she woofs down remnants

     of a picnic tourists left littered
while Lady and the *****
     head toward the quay
Pier ring for private sloop

     to **** per ****,
     then prematurely ******* hoo ray
afore slyly cagily approaching
     bag of cheap tricks see
     ****** exploits today.
They leave Jerusalem, with the acrobats from Shiraz. They were ghosts of poetry, wine, roses and fireflies; they were conjuring the path of the twelve camels to the intersection with the Cenotaph, where King David with the Cherubs of Kafersesuh will stay. They were Epi ghosts, basking in camelid footsteps. They went in all the intermittences of the bent nails and plants of the areas of the marquee of the other four ghosts that accompanied him. They were the jumpers with water wheels, wheel scales with tutelary cords, some with stilts of gold disgrace from the coins of Judas Iscariot and the last propelled by a caper that ruled all the others on the wings of the Fireflies. Withdrawn from the road that leads to the Kidron valley, 2,500 years of clay tablets from Persepolis fall on all of them, they were phonetized with the plaintive nightmare of Tirazis's one-eyed poem; which is currently Shiraz, in this way these ghosts escorted the Hexagonal Birthright, they were exiled from their ghostly cities for not paying the tribute of obedience to destroy and rebuild. As they began to be with them in the cove, the ghosts of the acrobats boiled with the eagerness to prevent everyone from being saddened by the departure from the orchard, which was falling further and further behind their footsteps, dancing with their pirouettes along the way, they told little stories. in the ears of travelers.

Hydro Saltimabanqui: “I come from Roknabad (also known as Aub-e Rokní), an underground canal that carries spring water to the city from a mountain located ten kilometers northeast of Shiraz. Here I have to mend the propellers and water ropes to do my acrobatics on the water, with greater songs in the poems of the Poet Hafiz. When we bite our tongues, we repair it with Hafiz's verses from the Koran; there are three hundred creeds, three hundred hectares to irrigate with my wheel the sadness of those who cannot have the gift of the rivalry of Montenegro and Monteblanco, to overestimate the liveliness of the caravan trembling with uncertain doubts on its way to Jaffa. "

Saltimbanqui of Bacule: "We are Epi ghosts, the reverie with tutelary ropes, to jump through the trapeze of the photometric units of the heavy Almería of the highest Mirror of the Sea. Here we look; from here we will board the barge that will take them from back to Limassol. Curiously, the same ship from Lepanto that sleeps in the swings of the sea and in the arms of Anaximander, in a new awakening from the lethargy of the super-string theorization, here is the intrinsic speculation of science, since this is not just to research purely empirical. "

Says Anaximander: “First…, we have no proof that string theory is not ultimately correct and in the future in any verifiable way. Second, we propose a project of the order of string theory, which is necessary for science and its importance, going even beyond the scientific to also project itself on the metaphysical and the religious, right here in this order of greater what to do together with the rope that leads me to Patmos.

Saltimabanqui of Bascule responds: “metaphysical and religious legitimacy, here we are tying knots in the rope that inaugurates a new masonry in the observable futuristic look. Here is the original fiction of continuing to raise the necks of the ants over our optics. We will jump on these ropes, but we will fall on intervals of placental physical dens, which were born from the new embryo in the twelve caves of Gethsemane, in a primitive late germinal process. The micro phonetic vibrations will lift us up from the hunger to follow and leave King David in his cenotaph, gored on his hips by the Cherubim, marking his holy antlers that become entangled in the blunting of the cuneiform scratches of his epigram.

In the middle of the magical theorists exotically as associativity of substance causally of the poetic and multiverse song, believing in the ghosts of Shiraz, as dreams injected to sublimate the Aeneids that they lamented on the bottom stones, even though they were independent of their material origin. Multi universes, multi paraphrase for who has to dress the word “Rosa in her noble long dress to the cliff of Ebdara when Vernarth acclaims his brother Etréstles, he comes with the Auriga from Messolonghi. Rested and determined to head to Tel Gomel, he comes with his horse Kanti to keep him company on this crusade. Kanti defied the Cliffs of Crete, he was servile to Markos Botsaris, 1821 (Royal Hero of the Liberation of Greece in the Turkish Invasion, Koumeterium Messolonghi - Palibrio USA), until in the afternoon he approached from a herd of beautiful places of steeds to him. This was heard by Etréstles and he seized His horse to have more than a Life from his company, more than a lost and lost aroma of his natural mother, to reach the one who would treasure it”.

The ghosts attribute quantitative passages from before leaving King David, and then continuing on the road to Jaffa and advancing on the ship back to Cyprus; Limassol. All were hyperkinetic bowls leveraged by the terrain that was on the **** of the acrobatic histrion foreshadowing the contours of the temporal filigree, which in each one made them smile at the carriage with oxidizing wheels, still being immaterial beings, but alive in its marvel gases, wading the serious bile that emerged from the glasses in his allegories. His footsteps and his undulating phonetic figures did not stop over the caravan, which had already passed Jerusalem. They were already undaunted by themselves and overshadowed by the foreboding modulation and encryption of the rehearsals they were doing, over the heavy atmosphere that seized and begged a small piece of the attention of those who did not celebrate their Shiraz pirouettes.
The areas, volumes, and lengths were fully encompassed by the Ghosts of Shiraz, the acrobats ran along the banks of Ramallah, it was already winter, the city received them with winds and rains from the southwest alternating with cold and dry winds from the northeast. The acrobats went like master geometricians to condone the fuss of the caravan, devising a dodexagesimal system. (Twelve centuries of ultra-nocturnal geometry and shipwrecks at the Alexandria lighthouse)

Positioning as a base the number 12, to measure times and angles that they needed to avoid the voluminous rains that hit the caravan.  Incredibly, the volumetric position of the plantar legs of the camels seemed like wheels that rotated without stopping in any anti circumferential radius, making some clouds a shutter that enclosed them like a trapezoid of God's flock in the high semicircle of the waters that tried to fall. , like axiomatic staves of Euclid's beard tempering his elemental construct.

The linear position of each one of those who were mounted was a perfect ergonometric based on the Muladhara pressing the four red petals on pressing the Achilles heel of Vernarth, which was dimensioning the Ramallah triangulation, with the fungi that were housed in its Xifos sword in the jet tip that carried the dodexagesimal cartography. In the same position, the Apostle Saint John seemed, he carried the rosary in his left hand in geometry that elongated his nose and feet in an adonis triangle, thirsty for one hundred and twenty degrees of the sextant that broadened its spectrum to align with this Birthright. Thus the stars and planets are positioned as celestial spheres with the gravitation of the Olivos Berna, revolutionizing curved and flat equations that intuited to go beyond the crossed pirouettes that the acrobats did all the way, even further than those of the withered path of oil, purposely of the axiomatic systems that the Ghosts of Shiraz intended to establish.

Shiraz  Ghosts

These Persian Epi ghosts, axiomatized abstract and ideal entities relating models of austerity and lyricism, which fluctuated in the lines and planes of movements of the clouds with the counterpoint of the legs of the Gigas, leaving marks in the sand like a point Morse, straight and flat, until the fifth step that tried to cross the lines of Ramallah, for the parallelism that the centuries that asked Vernarth to reorder the geometric geography of time and the positions that were added as a delay effect in the Garden, essentially of a hyperbolic vision, to appropriate the entities of the Ghosts that grasp with their little finger the strings of the times associated with Gaugamela in his palatial sovereignty with the footsteps of Vernarth and in the phylogeny of a world that is born behind the confines of religious micro- genetics , from whose space is born in another and would accommodate a circular bijective function, to attract the aerosisms of Ein Kerem in the new life signs of J Joshua in the reborn One-dimensional Beams.

Vernarth diluted his bones to sit near the tarsus and accommodate it at the end of the vertebra of the Muladhara (Chakra of 4 petals), making a sub-technical geometric function to preserve the figures of darkness that were also diluted, to arrive at night close to of Jaffa, in the surroundings the isometric fire existing in each one and in two dimensions…, but born of a common one. Raeder and Petrobus wore their floating eyelashes full of dusty and dense manias on their faces, with splinters gum that they had released from one of the pirouettes of one of the mountebanks when colliding with the basic postulates of the Ghosts of Shiraz, deducing undulating spaces like snakes within the isometric fire that dazzled them with the burning senses of humor of the last drops of the Shemesh codifying themselves in an absolute intuitive measure, beyond all dimensions, which is Consciousness destroying the planes and spaces that multiplied among themselves as members of another geometric conscious dimension.

Arriving at the Ben Shemen crossing, everyone undergoes collective hypnosis; the ghosts manage to embody each of the components of the Birthright but omitting a great factor. They relegated the Hexagonality of the genetics of this caravan, not raising the ghosts when calculating the area of once they were being intracorporeal within the members, thus having to abandon before the last ray of Shemesh threw them on their faces ashes of the Gehenna, for this supposed reason to leave them condemned to recycle the human species, for the purpose of reproducing sacred human beings, but being subservient to the cravings beyond the immortality of the miscalculation that led them to the citadel of Karim Khan, surprised with its stamp of thick stone walls and circular towers in the heart of Shiraz. This gave them a warrior aspect contrary to their fame and history: this was a city famous for two thousand years for its culture, with its gardens and its poets, now if in a conspiracy by this beautiful odalisque ruse that attracted the guide of the ecstatic ghosts, in a bad moment of extradition to a bad context of epi ghosts not yet defined in their pockets of apprentices boasting on the laurels of weak and doubtful ideas, which still swarmed within his white heart, trying to reach Vernarth's as former commander Hetairoi, now a servile mystic. In such a way, the complicated as ghosts like "Sufi", being, in reality, the genetic soul of the double ax that carries the double edge of today ..., of the sacrament of Medea in Abdera.

Pro says a ghost from Shiraz (embarrassed):

"The Universe is a sea that longs for dry shores,
without sea and without other wet longings ...,
no possible maiden could
Try to dry it with your star hands ...
Who calms the crying of the Universe ...
even so ..., simile remains floating as a verse between his dreams "

"How can I make my dreams another dimension of the universe?
if he is quiet and does not make me float in his sea ...
How can I make it possible for the tips of its stars
fill the spaces that have revealed it ...
and that have made circular shores without a sea in the mists "

"I walk alone and nobody sees me ...
so I don't wake up the candles that smile and accompany me ...
between days that turn into mornings on the shore
of the solitude of the universe, that nobody embraces him ... "

“Now the days tremble from almost falling on themselves,
They come out alive from their own loneliness of exhaustion and fullness ...of whoever appreciates them in the mists ...
being able to surrender their attention in Ben Shemen ”.
As the Ghost of Shiraz expires in Ben Shemen, he escapes all for nothing in the triad of hypnotizing conventions that still resided in the shameless air that engulfed him, all over the stationary enclosures of the entertainment spaces caused by the acrobats and epi ghosts. That seduced the indecisive beings that sailed over the limbs that made them doubt where to refrain from continuing, outside the radius of the caravan or beyond the skies that did not cease to be in good spirits, of the universe passing through the white hearts, six on the inside and six on the outside in their traveling artist folds.

The lands that are accommodated by the time of parapsychological hypnosis tremble again, as a separation from the physical magnitude of Gethsemane.  Creating a sequence that bends the heads of the ghosts, filling their translucent physiognomies between a cold past and a frozen future, from a classic mechanic, which from now on would depend on the dice thrown by the Third Phantasm of time. Here a relativism would be opened to those who want to see the past in the orchard in an unstable particulate present, leaving far from splitting both parts of the archetype of today, like a subdivided clash of several times that allowed integrating the remaining phantasmagorical spectra, taking over a story on a pluriaxial axis that prevailed in the time of a supposed numerical line from a vector, aligning itself towards the compass of the distance that shines between both northern hemispheres in the minutes that go to the right and the solid-gas seconds that burst almost in the walls of their own liberated beings. The four ghosts of Shiraz, had time differentials before this event with the caravan, verifying the simultaneous prop between the two pairs of ghosts between four dissimilar, but poetic ones that made them here at this point obviate and cancel between two relative nomenclatures of physical structure. The durability and classification of these micro-times of the phantom epi would make the database that St. John the Apostle and Vernarth will accumulate with their eyes closed, each one surpassing himself from the debatable areas, which concern to estimate in occupying the spaces physical in some of them at will so that one of them could embark to Limassol. This simultaneous and relativistic multi-active line, encloses events and squares of spaces in the cinematographic time of the parapsychological regression, as a link of physical images slowed down in the evolutionary and cognitive memory, passing from the conduit of expectation memorization events towards the set of absolute figures. not pigeonholed, but approaching the universe in grasping scales of those who value them. This elucidates even the very conception of conceiving oneself as a ghost, rather in what is called "Epi Ghosts", of absolute belonging of the identical ..., outside of oneself "Being with them and not, as a tacit phase of a dragged story with the seconds that were not lived ... "

This scaling conception will allow them to reside a few millimeters from the consciences of the caravan that was advancing automated along the tracks that already made time and distance in front of the absolute, in a jiffy, having in their faces Rizhon Lezion, who was made of images more than a marked and concrete story in a mechanics that kept the body as part of a large volume in all, to the rhythm of the plantar areas of the Camels Gigas, dividing as a stream of water that would flow fragmented between past, present and future, but as a starting pattern to the future as the only "today" for the time of the times. This unified three-dimensionality would mark the mathematical space of the attempts towards the future of the contiguous camelids of the ghosts of Shiraz, for the ownership of time between all with a single identity that cries out for the univocal will to rearm, even if the winds are very strong. Of the partition,  which separates the world from God and the believing observer into the future with a believer from a historical past in obscurantism, leaving and entering a new world whose notion is to spend connected and bound in a systematization dependent on the great causes, although the static feels isolated from the dynamics, inquiring probative to unite between the ghosts and others, even though they are inferior forces under the line of the generous gaze and the parallelism of the attentive spectator, which suggests more openness to receive and delegate the circumstances of all physical, emotional, spectral and mental-spiritual dimensions, flexing the emotional states hierarchical night and day. Everyone falls asleep hugging on cushions of lamb saddlebags, making it possible to get closer to them too, close to the Ghosts and sleep next to them hugging with the decanted strength of the frames that hang from their faces showing the emotion of being favorite children of the Mashiach, absorbed in the Kidron Valley.

The frontier of the future will be the pre-act of not traveling too much of the physical love to the touch that only awaits the love of the sleeping of a Cherub, this may occur when the sheep climb the hill of our consciences, and manage to be perceived as the simultaneous harness of satisfaction, who lack the vision that would speak to them of a past belonging immobile, to this ethereal topology that will have to biodegrade the molecules of the seconds that sleep in the sheep-man wool saddlebags, at a higher speed than it would last to go back near from the palisade, where it crosses the path to the immemorial arcades of the Mashiach, spinning around all creation at a speed that determines a verse in its soul around the orthogonal of Shemesh, quadrupled and cloistered in its self-consciousness scattered like iceberg down the back in the submissive thoughts that long to be tied to more precious time.

Our lord has us more tied to an absolutist past and future, looking at his calendar divided in such a way that it always fits the day that hurts the shadows of a sharp past, so that it always smiles in us, as the best luminous sign, of whom and with whom to repair the damage of various wounds that travel through the times of time, always wounded, to and from the borders of an anachronistic past. The ghosts, always fast tetra, marginalize themselves to the sound of greater diligence, they fled in Rizhon Lezion, to wake up a little further away from the rays of the stationary Sun, which from now on always surfaced in the degraded dark circles of the mountebank, prowling around the festivities of who knows how to wait, to make a toast under the pretext of faith and hope that exempts the cardinal turned into a flower in white attire.

Shvil from the Angels

The fast epi phantom tetra was emaciated, they lost their north and since they could not walk, they were not energized by the radiosities of the earth, which dominates those who lend divine graces if their feet rested on the tapestry of those who threw their footsteps in winter already near Jaffa. The Shvil Angels were angels that were on the route that cordoned off the pilgrimage of Vernarth and Saint John the Apostle, they were full of flowering Berne Olive Trees that made trunks of floral arches at the entrance of this ancient port. They were three when they walked, they were always distributed so fast that they seemed to be six, but they ended up averaging the quantum of three for each of the components of the Birthright, which from today would be the great circumcision event of the Universe, to make it part of those who one day will have to caulk the rhombuses of the fragmented light beams on the path of heaven so high, in the name of the phrases that never tire of looking at the incautious years that are of our father by the exogalaxies in the total company of the invisibility and relativity of cautious time.

This Semitic seashore beauty indicates and invites us to reach its salty Hebrew waters of Yofi, reinforcing the phonetics that runs madly through the border hills with its heart in hand, when foreigners appear in the name of plausive phylogeny. That brings him a piece of bearable land from the Universal Flood, this is why the ancient Canaanites have to receive them with the table set, to entertain them with winter flowers in Jaffa. The Hellenistic tradition relates the name to Iopeia, which is Cassiopeia herself, mother of Andromeda. After Pliny the Elder the name is connected with Joppa, who was the daughter of ******, god of the wind. Where Vernarth locked his Aspis Skolié shield so that it would shine in the bilges of the Eurydice, under the pentagon’s of the bronze layer of his shield, every time he approached the Dodecanese when the Auriga descended from Andromeda on the back of a punished rower by the storms taking him away from his mother galaxy.

Thousands of years BC Its merchants glorified themselves with their baskets full of belongings and merchandise, for its inhabitants, who today pretended to be pharaohs who paid tribute to the marine corners through the coast that today seemed to open up with more new waters that were reborn from the capering of the swells, founding thus the omens of embarking to attempt and submit to the omens of sovereignty between Judah and the Hellenic lands, to work with noble trees in their armories and utensils, of which they played an honorable part after the maintenance of the emblem of the last portion, of the shaft of the libertarian triumph of Alexander the Great over the Phoenicians in Tire. In the New Testament, it is related how Peter resurrected the believer Tabitha (Dorcas, in Greek, gazelle) in Joppa (Jaffa) and, later, how near this city he has a vision in which Yahweh told him that he should not distinguish between Jews and Gentiles while ordering the removal of ritual (kosher) food restrictions followed by Jews.

The Shvil of the angels distanced themselves from the desire of this station without reaching them and not making them drink salty water from Jaffa, therefore they resorted to Petrobus who a few meters before reaching the port, summoned a large number of Dodecanese Pelicans who were waiting in great celestial flocks, which hovered happily above the sky welcoming them. The pelicans levitate from a risky juggling act, over the caravan and headed to the high seas, collecting saltwater, then they went along the initiation path of Shvil and reconvert the saltwater into sweet with hazelnuts so that they would have holy water, to insolate it and pour it into the canteens of the temple guards of the Canaanites who were waiting for them, to distract them, making them believe they were other Syriac lands such as those of Ashera, which in this act, perhaps it would be good for them to sponsor the Hexagonal Birthright.

But the paths of the angels have confederated before the noisy crowds and Ptolemaic lemurs, who were incorporated into the empty spaces that remained. Faced with this gravesite, Vernarth shouted to the sky with the force of Falangist tradition to himself, and acclaimed heaven, for the sake of freeing them from their definitive income to Jaffa, summoning the Hypatists; elite warriors and spearmen, for them to gather at the portal of the ante entrance of Jaffa, for others who never came from nowhere and nowhere, only blocking it from its perfect plan of memorial and theological heritage conservation, upon return from the exit Judah, to embark with destiny through the sulphurous point that  will boil them in temporary waters, towards the Cyclades and then the Dodecanese, triumphing in inhabiting them wherever whoever was and whoever arrived with foreign promise.

As dusk falls in its first nubile shadows, the  Shvil presents itself to you with these three angels dressed in ivory white, each with a book in each hand and in the other a candelabrum, giving signs of ultra-interpretive catechesis, allying with silica. In combination, after the vision of the charms of the knowledge spread. Earth and sky in the second angel, washing the Semitic dew of anguished Jaffa, with teachings of sleeping well and awakening, to walk in the lands that want to seize the senses, of those who are called not to be oppressed, behind the bars of the Morbid and illiterate pan-vision of the angles of hasty entertainment of the angels when they were called by the Angel Regent, simply relaying information easy to carry to their hearts, in faint powers and poetic lessons, before falling into a thorny forest, burning their tongues in furrows of afflicted human positions, to later redeem them fervently with the judicious power of God.

Vernarth, is distressed by matters of seeing them so tender and so fragile, allowing them to crawl toward him gently. Finally, on these three rules of the Shvil, Hanael introduces herself; "Speaking of hindrances stuck in the literary cabal of grateful compliments for all".   Alluding to Vernarth, a subject desensitized and also distant from any Sub Yóguica disciplinary doctrine. This led him to stand behind San Juan, protecting himself and scared of everything around him, he was seeing in front of him, on the upper left side itself, that Zebedeo was, San Juan's own father calling him!

Saint John the Apostle says: “Justice, at this time, allows us to alleviate ignorance, if the riddles allow us only to look for the answer, God will not be here…, it will only be emotional catharsis, through a merely ideological  Shvil or passage, which moves our meaningless sentences, definitely leading us to the coffers that rearm one after one, after the mistake. We are faithfully interpreted by them, but we detest our regencies with the Escaton, when we all pretend to follow his light of thunderous density towards the sky, prophesying to follow him without losing ourselves in him ..., held on his shoulder glossary. On the claws that are released from the dazed angelic prey, correcting its wavering vision, unraveling the living presence of condemnations or salvation, in Eden with your bare feet or in hell with no departure time”

Inexplicably, some Praetorian soldiers of Domitian appear, who would be restricting the departure of the tretacontero to Limassol, curiously they were the same ghosts from Shiraz that continued to represent such a bad event, just as when he was expelled to Patmos by Domitian in 95 BC, in size was the scandal that the Shvil angels produced with their impractical ideologies, who opposed such spectral imagery, in such a way that they replaced their figure with that of another Hellenic man who wanted to embark for Patmos, the other members were fully incorporated to the ship, which frolicked on the pranks as it proudly carried them to a new ocean. Around the last drops that jumped in Jaffa on the coastal rocks, others appeared when the last divided and scattered drops were going to shine the navigation temples, thus it is possible to board in the same ship that brought the principle from Limassol to Judah that transited from Lepanto.

The chapel of ministers reappears offering a ceremony, which would return the messianic remora to the Angels of Shiraz, to return to their former positions within the paths of biblical characters, who tend to commit adultery in the game of loss of consciousness of the Escaton, probably requiring that everyone have to make pilgrimage routes for all humanity secluded and liberated by themselves. The Saltimbanqui finally manage to jump into the boat to sail to the Dodecanese, but the Shvil of the Angels stayed where other celebrities will require them to reroute the Shvil Escaton.
Chapter XXIX
Ghosts from Shiraz to Jaffa
Part VII - Mashiach of Judah Miracle VIII
Klvshp0et Oct 2014
I've been taking a circuitous route
Only camels and Arabs
Know what I'm talking about.
Round and round and round
My mind turns about.
Now never again in my life
Will I try to doubt
Who I am
and where I will be.
When the evil within tries to get out.

Its time to reroute./
I've gotta reroute. /
I've got to get up on my feet
And shout. /
I've wasted too much time asleep.
Only ****** at myself
Because during the time I've spent
Trying to dig deep into her/
I have totally forgetten
Where I was and who they were./
Those who held me back/
gave me plenty of hugs and daps/
but made my time on earth a blur./
I love my brothers so/
And I lift them up
When they're low/
But when it's time to go/
**** its times to go./
Open up my crusted eyes
And let the Suns holy glow/
Help me grow./
I just hope that when I rise
I begin to know

I've been taking a circuitous route
Only camels and Arabs
Know what I'm talking about.
Round and round and round
My mind turns about.
But never again in my life
Will I try to doubt
Who I am
and where I will be.

Camels and Arabs/
I often wish I could walk
The land that they have./
Yet, I walk the land
Of trends and fads/
Expensive homes and tags/
That make me see everything
I do not have./
Only to drag me further away
From my true path./
Desensitizing me of
What I'm not suppose to have/
And throwing me on that circuitous route./
Now that I've figured all this **** out./
I'm going to backtrack on my life
And add in everything I left out. /
Reconstructing my mind
To make it my vibrant home.
So when they ask and say
"Klash, what took so long?"
I would reply

I've been taking a circuitous route
Only camels and Arabs
Know what I'm talking about.
Anton May 2013
Kneel before the noose
With roars in chest
Learnt the humility
Abuser wasting his zest

Cry at tomorrow returning no sound
Frightening silence becomes too much loud
Voices of future singing song of the past
The Now is broken and the hope lost it's trust

Cleching rays of light by stale hand
Rotten pride has been betrayed
Ravaged shell will be healed again
To lead you trough circles of undiscovered pain

Blinding light throws me into darkness
Prisoner of malice
Break your knees
In prayer for justice

Last breath will take away
This painful torture
That hates my days
Last breath will take me away
From this endless learning of pain

In morpheus embrace
I can dance with saints
I was granted new chance
But it can't reroute me from hell

Endless hopes of salvation
Avoiding self-meaning
Pray hollow tides for echoes of noble
Decomposed spirit

Swallow all colors
In the search of the path
Look back to the forward
Beyond the lifetime

Rejecting pure energy
Forced to escape
Innocent memory
Will be ravaged again
▪♢▪
I hover above as
you write and ponder.
Visit your buffaloes
and assorted natural wonders.
Array of rocks 'n shells
Feathers, Eagle, Hawk.
Turkey and Peacock.
Your collection of critters,
they all welcome me.
Savion is busy and so, not
bothered in the least by my presence, 
though it would be such a lovely
moment to meet her...
My memories gleefully
take a hitch on the back of yours.
I playfully wonder if I shall be noticed..
as you are yet unaware of my decision,
upon invitation, to join you.

I love to travel...any way I can.
Today, this is the trip for me!
Memory at will. To visit with a
color, a scent, a touch, a hurt, a joy.
To explore a
memory yet unopened.

Woodlands, Wetlands and Deserts
Descending deep into the
Canyons, down to the river.
While here, venture the rapids.
Then, on to the Dead Sea and the Rose
colored Himalayan Salt Caves.
Dolphins to visit and sing
in chorus, beneath the ocean waters.
Oh, how I have missed them.

As is the luxury of Memory travel,
We are weightless and soundless. 
Have no odor, can swim and fly.
We are able at will, to tap into
Ancient Knowledge. The memories
that have come before us,
our gift as a shared consciousness.

We visit our happiest of times.
A delight to have and to hold.
Often, we become immersed in the
our most troubled experiances.
Reliving them over and over.
We are able to reroute a memory
at will,for our pleasure or to
indulge in pain, or a blame.

Our minds are a rich labyrinth of
hopes, dreams and remembrances.
Join in the fun. You can at will.
Thanks for taking this
little trip with me.
▪♢▪

Posting of 'Memory' by W L Winter.
It is  posted below "Hitchin' a Ride"
Or find with link
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1310736/memory/
Or just take a visit on over to
W.L.Winter's site
and luxuriate in the
Bountiful Beauty of his Poetry.
My response to W L Winter's Poem 'Memory'
♡ An invitation worth taking ♡
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1310736/memory/
Rhianecdote Oct 2016
Going back to what you know.
All the signs tellin you to stop,
Reroute, it's not the way to go

It's just not the same,
Couldn't be maintained
Left to decay
in the time lapsed
collapsed and what remains
is a husk that just adds to the
echo of the pain
you ran here to escape
Walls of dust clinging onto the pasts shape
Dissipating
Fallin away
Fillin your lungs
along with all those things you failed
to get off your chest along the way

And you wonder why you can't breath?
Why your heart got so heavy it fell off your sleeve?
Why your mind stole your dreams and now you can't sleep?
Why your faith was overrun by your worries and now You can't believe?!


Even here Collapsing on your knees
choking back the tears
As you try to put it back together
piece by piece

But it's gone.

There's nothing here for you anymore
You must leave
the road lead nowhere
And nowhere is where this road leads
A circle always comes up empty
No matter how far you reach

Be an exile.
Find your feet
In less polluted airs
Fill up those lungs
Where you have space to breathe
Pick up that heart
with the strength it took to take the leap
Towards the Fresh Start
no decay, no debris.
Come out the Dark
you'll be ok, you will see
well enough in time
to carve your own path
Be Free
Vernarth describes in the voice of Saint John: “They continue with the scented camelids from looking at their backs… they were about to reach the walls. When they approached Jerusalem, it happens like the biblical passage, as in that of Bethphage and Bethany, in front of the Mount of Olives, they crossed the entrance as it was made by the Messiah when he faced this cosmopolitan city”. Saint John remembered his teacher…: “Go to the village that is in front of you, and as soon as you enter it, you will find a tied colt, on which no man has ridden; untie it and bring it, if someone says to you: Why do you do that? Say the Lord needs it, and then He will give it back. They went and found the colt tied outside the door at the bend in the road, and they untied it. And some of those who were there said to them: What are you doing untying the colt? They then told them how Jesus had commanded; and they left them. And they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it, and he sat on it. Many also spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. And those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, saying: Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!!! Hosanna in the high! And Jesus entered Jerusalem, and into the temple; and having looked around at all things, as it was getting dark, he went to Bethany with the twelve. "

So everyone is ecstatic to gird them to this entrance ceremony as if they were putting their first feet as the Messiah did. They all went to Bethany on the twelve camels to settle down and have a moment of rest. All in deep silence tried to relive what the Apostle had described to them, seeing how they synchronized the unequivocal exactitude of what had to happen and will happen now with them. They come to Bethany for just one day of relaxation and experienced rebirth. In this place, it would perhaps be the house of a nearby town such as Betábara or Bethany, or in the mountains in a simple bower or temporary tent made of wattles, that is, with interwoven branches, and perhaps covered with striped rags. Perhaps his abode was in a cave next to a campfire in view of what we have in the most probable ontological point which is Jesus, who had no home ..., he was staying in a rather poor or humble place, always stating that he had reliable its category-space where to arrive. Every place where He went…, the places went to Him, agglutinated in their mischievous sandals of stout retracing…!
Raeder and Petrobus flew for hours and hours this plains and promontories, however, in the midst of physical humility, there is no doubt that this was one of the retouched moments that San Juan and those who rewarded him by reincorporating him to the credible access in the dimension of her work in front of herself captured from a Eureka. Perhaps Lázarus, Mary from Bethany, and Martha in a brotherhood that continues to live walking in invisibility, but tangible by the blind of the night. This I could see from above,  witnessing seeing these three brothers without the others being able to see them. The perspective Aerial managed to attract magnets to them by virtue of the halos that each one carried on their sacred kaleidoscopic heads ..., when they came flying very close to them, only the halos that moved on the road of San Juan were manifested before them when he went to visit them, in such a way as to link this mental deficit, innocuous being added to the good of being received by the interwoven ambit of history, that it does not fight stammering to hear passages that history itself could not relate belatedly nor in the stories of the fearful ones who were eyewitnesses of a moment that was and will come, for beings with more than two eyes!

Etréstles and Vernarth, sit on a few outlines with metamorphic rings, which resembled being housed in the belly of an unborn newborn donkey, there they sit solidifying archaeological ruins that did not exist as a result of these intense changes in pressure, temperature, and chemical environment; dispersing the changes that are associated with bending forces, layer faults, magma injection and elevations that depress the rock masses flattening them only for their visits ..., then they would return to their original proto-chemical state. Right here they manage to repeal the silence by snatching a rusty sulfo green sandal like a shred of refined friction from the sword of the wind  Hamsin, leading them to get closer to each other, so that he covered them with his moderate generosity with a linnaceous white cloth each one, judging each one of being an Apostle in his memorable and sacred visit to Bethany.

Eurydice sings some songs of Kalymnos in a lullaby, by the iridescence of the roar of the fabrics knotting on their faces in affinity with the out-of-tune Hamsin, creating in them the nascent amber that sprouted from the brown ringed rocks in front of them supporting them angularly. His song fell in love with the global amber and each instance of remaining united that did not ****** or besiege them, generating in them that sacred night not having dinner ..., rather they would fast until the later sacred day that they would leave back to Jerusalem sheltered in their punishment of half severing, in the Lithostroto with his arms broken from the humerus to the ulna by Pilate and disheartened henchmen, in excessive cadaverous instances i.

As soon as the morning dawned, the camelids passed their tongues over the colossal face of Vernarth, telling them that the interval between the cross to reroute to Jerusalem was coming. They all leave, the twelve camels and Alikanto very close to them, feeling very important, for being so kind to his master Vernarth. Alikanto isolated himself between them, observing the actions of his master because here there is no palatial verve of swords Xifos or Dorus, but this allowed him to protect the others if it is so at some point, so these camels could or could turn themselves into fierce imaginary enemies of Trojan Lothophages piercing their mythologies!   Emotional and strategic curiosity, which will always have them on its tragic payroll ...,  in the fates that could run leading them towards the tempting Macedonian void.

They entered the same citadel, which from afar looked as dazzling as full sewers, where the naive condemned still circulated through it. But as it approached they vanished through some of the seven impressive doors, although in reality, they sounded like eight since the Gate of Mercy or Golden Gate closed later, being the oldest and the one that allows access to the Esplanade of the Mosques. "It was closed by the Muslims since it is said that through this door the Messiah will return to save the living and the dead on the Day of Judgment." Here they all pose to pray upset by the fluxion of the camels that did not dare to pass; they refused, having to select another entry.

Later they broke through the Jaffa Gate that leads directly to the Jewish and Christian quarter. Beyond the Tower of David, in an old citadel of the Armenian neighborhood that is another of the essential places that they saw when they arrived. They walked with their camels with their eyes covered, at a slow pace seeing all these testimonies in giddy incense, as if they were walking on their own sore feet. In other city gates, they invade with their twelve shadows, the Dung Gate or Gate of Manure which is the one that leads to the Wailing Wall and the Esplanade of the Mosques, that of the Lions, through which one goes to the Olives Mount, that of Zion, near the Tomb of King David, that of Herod, the New Gate and that of Damascus, in the north of the wall, one of the most impressive in the city and the one that leads directly to the Muslim quarter.
Bethany Brotherly Halo
Day Nov 2016
close my eyes
shut it out
headphones in
thoughts reroute

going back
to a time
you were here
you were mine

we would laugh
i could smile
it was great
but after while'

you had said
feeling fade
insinuated
i had played

eyes open
shut it out
headphones off
thoughts reroute

focus on
here and now
push out thoughts
anyway how
Nicole Sep 2017
When I think about my future I can't see anything.
It's blurry
and always has been.

Except with you.

When I try to reroute my plans,
I cannot handle the thought of you
not by my side.

I ruined everything.

Because I don't know how to love.

I know I love you, though.

I just don't know in what way.

I wish I had the answers
that would set us free.

Even if that freedom means
you no longer beside me.
Heather Stiles Dec 2010
Just a moment in this lifetime,
Just a tragedy ahead,
Not knowing where each turn will lead,
Within seconds we might be dead,
Live each day to the fullest,
Don't stop to wonder why,
Do everything your heart desires,
In dreams, reach for the sky.
Surprises at every stop sign,
With it's share of wrong ways and dead-ends.
Statistics dont help you with the future,
They only tell you where you've been.
With so many people among us,
There are no certainties.
All it takes is just one person,
To reroute history.
Don't waste one single moment,
How very precious that they are,
What seems a long way off,
Is really not that far.
b e mccomb Jul 2016
Rumble strips and road trips
Drive until I catch the night
Right shoulder tears for all my fears
Thruways admit I lost the fight.

An eye for an eye
Left turn for left turn
GPSs always lie
A truth for a truth
Reroute our directions but we'll
Never regain our wasted youth.

Now again I'm drifting off
The road signs mean I'm never lost
But the rumble strip will always grind
Until I forget what I drove to find.

Highway markers flashing by
In tired hate I wonder why
Until the sun must also rise
This painful day will be reprised.

Hands off the wheel, forget to blink
This desolate night is not what you think
A split second glance in my rearview
Confirms what I already knew
For though my stance to run was wrong
There's no denying you were in the back seat all along.
Copyright 6/25/14 by B. E. McComb
Luna Sep 2020
Icecream you are a sick disease
But here I am
With a spoon in my mouth,
Eating you up like a champ,
Licking every last drop in the bowl,
Believing I am the sickness
And you are the cure
You are the future
You stop time
Dead in its tracks
You reroute the train
Long after its detailed
So I stop and I think
Dr icecream
You are  hired !
I'm a pouty brat wanting her brand new icecream right meow
growing closer to where asking questions is cancer waiting for an answer.  essays, and mindwaves, and backspins, and moon rays.  Eyes above my mind, but it’s the truth now that makes me blind.  and all the pathways i can’t find because somehow they have left me far behind.

the density that carries my mind, like lead floating on air: casually undefined.  but there exists a lie i’ve told a truth behind - told in fast forward but experienced in rewind.  the fluids become ink and words against your spine, while worlds reroute and minds align.  it becomes a certain sign that the best hand is held by time - who rewrites headlines that forget to remind the stock dialogue for the witness of the crime.  back again, past enemy lines, at least we have explosives we can hide behind.

so remember those who will perish
  
in the war and all the truths that
    
they died for

but it was the only way
  
really,
to even the score.
What's up to the "woke" nation, faking like they ain't part, of the mass incarceration,
While yall playing they vids, and throwing money, they taking vacations,
Off your earned, sweat and tears, then have they nerve, to say we bloods,
But I see crips, in the making gangstas posing, let's get this sage baking,
I dissect, fake intellects, this is a lyrical syringe, you can't avoid the inject,
It's like covid, delta threat, how many suckas out here, using techs,
I just sit back, and let my thoughts recollect, these phonies, only using your hearts to self select, a more comfortable living,
Say they close to God, but in the life of sinning, everyday they gamble winnings,
It's their beginning, but I'm fixing to be the main ending, they just pretending,
To preach, that real **** after they had, a couple of encounterments,
They really government, they used they own, against they own,
Operation clone a clone, only dogs still dig up bones, goddess Nina Simone,
Cherish the skin that ya own, suckas racing, for the battle, of Youtubes throne,
Monetize ya videos, just to stand on, with some fancy music, with some words on,
I stand with nature, glancing the sun and moon, enlighten, off its natural natural perfume,

Chorus
These fools do it for the dough
But I do for it for souls
Of the people people
These fools do it for the dough
But I do for it for souls
Of the people people




Fake third eyes, I see the **** gleaming, sly must be a sty, as the pain multiply,
Can't play God, and still die?, why ask why, I'm tryna elevate like Elijah,
Dancing in the holy water, with fire but it can't consume me,I'm the slaughter,
What about the sons and daughters, pass generation, too selfish too selfish,
We eating too much shellfish, maybe that's why, we in the perfect, counterfeit,
I treat my body authentic, yall speak that new ****, I keep it vintage,
Old school rules, I hold it valuable, I'm angel raging, against all these devils,
Learned the laws of power, see poison gets devoured, by a natural remedy,
I am the public enemy, against humanity I can't help, but to be free,
Real spiritual folks ain't after money, this the age of the clout, soon to reroute,
So many folks out here, unsure, don't know where to go, what food to grow,
I only speak what I know, and yeah I make music, but its from the soul,
**** chasing scrolls, I let the spirits set the tolls, at their own expense,
What goes up must come downs, that's how gravity weighs the pounds,
I'm the shadow in every battle, to war every cut, that leads to gore of ya core,
Day and night, like Al B sure, can't escape the culture, death leeching vulture,
Ready to peck at ya sculpture, we War Angels, walking amongst chaos,
Every new topic, of the fake wokes is hands tossed, they getting soft,
They ain't got enough heat to bake,maybe that's why say they awake,
Look at Young Pharaoh, he brought a Lambo, at the expenses of the poor,


These fools do it for the dough
But I do for it for souls
Of the people people
These fools do it for the dough
But I do for it for souls
Of the people people
These fools do it for the dough
But I do for it for souls
Of the people people
These fools do it for the dough
But I do for it for souls
Of the people people
**** all they all apart of the plan
Confusion!!!
taylor bush Jan 2015
Every day is the same thing, the same routine. Every morning I wake up earlier than I would like too, and waste my daylight inside a confined concrete building that feeds off of conformed thinking and dead end ideas. Seated at desks, row after row, are robots in training being programmed by words written on white walls with various colors, coded for correction.
          We walk the halls of so- called "social structure" like veins and arteries with no source of life. Sit. Stand. Strut. No strolling. We must coagulate with the clicks of the clock. Strive. They cut our wires and reroute them periodically. Don't soar. Stay. They have us tied down by the laces of our shoes to keep us here, to keep us from wandering, because wandering leads to wondering. We are each a 12 point letter, of the same font, standing, double spaced, staring at the same blank paper in front of us.
          Except every now and then, there's someone that gives off a little more reception than is acceptable. Between the cords connecting our control panels is cartilage, flowing through our system software is life and thoughts and memory. When our thumb drive is hooked up to our monitor, our eyes open bigger, with three cones, we see a spectrum that was once incapable. When we leave our daily life with a wrong, or right, turn we feel the drops of water falling from the sky on our hands and we don't immediately go up in flames, instead we let out a sigh of relief.
          The next day I try to install this into others, but only to be told I am simply short circuited. But I know better now, I am not malfunctioning. I was struck by lightning and now my brain is storming.
short story we had to write for graphic design class to inspire surreal imagery
mars Oct 2018
I’m walking with my head down, I look up and i’ve been walking in circles this whole time

-time to reroute
Sitting here in my lonely cell
Thinking I'm sitting in a living hell
I wander about days long ago
Now this new life is all I seem to know

Changing seems like such a task
But I cant go on wearing a metaphorical mask
My life took a detour and I need to reroute
Some one please save me I need a way out

I know i can change I just need a shove
And I'll be off flying high like a free floating dove
I need to give it up for all that its worth
Given the opportunity I can conquer the earth

My life can be great I just need to try
I need to push through or I'll be summoned to die
For everyone out there I'm going to change
Our friendship shall grow with such great range
paige Mar 2013
I can't figure out
The color of your eyes,
It intrigues me.
I can't figure out
What lies behind them,
It fatigues me.

Please just relieve me
And give rise
To what's behind the disguise
That perplexes me.
Please just fulfill me plea
And explain exactly
What it means
When you look at me
With those blues and greens.
I think you feel it too
But the doubt just intervenes.
And it could fall through,
The plans I thought might ensue.
Usually I can just look through
And subdue feelings like these,

But my heart can't
Ignore what it sees
And my mind can't
Deny, it agrees
That when you look at me
With those eyes
It implies
That this defies
The norm
And what underlies
Will take form.

Please just resolve
This confusion I bear.
Please just dissolve
This despair that we share.

I swear, I won't dare
Drop my feelings
If you care.
I don't mind a reroute
If this isn't what you're about.

I just can't figure you out.
alternate title – A bona er fide dog day afternoon delight.

A mere half dozen vowels
constitute the English language
Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay
Consonants comprise the majority
(sans remaining twenty) Ta Deum,
whereby both in tandem allow, enable
and provide avast combination donning brooks at bay
ample lettered permutations

offer opportunities, where methinks
mother tongue avails allows, enables
and provides thyself
tubby spell as sigh arrange passions linkedin to create, evoke
and generate plenti of romantic expressions to convey
an amorous, bedazzling conception

describing ******, graphic, and iconic ****** propensities
this cobbler, dabbler, and fiddler
(no, not on the roof) doth display
his penchant, lament and bent infatuation
with these twenty-six symbols
that **** hen ewe to evolve,
and breed vernacular words to reflect from an eBay
definitions apropos to the present, which
Uber state farm quixotic oeuvre,

and matchless kindling ******* serves as foreplay
for this heterosexual ma reed male caressing,
finessing, and integrating
expressions of speech oft times spurs
(what might seem as noun sense),
I ponder the peccadilloes of being gay
yet quickly reroute ****** predilections
albeit rolling in the hay,

whence this dis straw t fellow
conjures affinity, comity and excitability
latent within the consanguinity
of bossy verbs assaying boisterously
an interjection tubby top dog capstone amidst kennel
of barking canines couching with another similar subject
each with their body electric

nestled upon a davenport faux pas inlay
in conjunction with another
four legged friend, the direct object
particularly eyed iz a ***** in heat, who **** okay
to buffer end an un pro noun
sub bull underdog species, who feels passé
with ****** faw paw play

though averse to insult shaggy scoobie doo,
whose bark a role overture willingly
doth goad her to doggy paddle
while she woofs down remnants of  
picnic tourists left littered
while Lady and the ***** head toward the quay
Pier ring for private sloop to **** per ****,
then ******* hoo ray
afore slyly cagily approaching bag of tricks
see ****** exploits today.
Ian Tishler Nov 2014
I missed you more than amphetamines,
or hollow holy vows sprouting out of me. you
used to reroute my scowls and transform them into smiles,
but no curve of any lips are quite like your's.
I don't know how you do it or how you did it,
it sickens me nights,
it's been hard to word things and I feel so empty,
with a cavernous head and a dread of the feeling that I've been feeling, I need comforting.

we haven't talked in ages, I wrote this by a state line, I was so close to breaking
that I stopped laughing about my problems.
It's been tainting my happiness, further proving,
that gaping hole I've grown to know.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
i'm not Agatha Christie in terms of volume,
but i still feel a sickness
      when i'm the foetus
    and someone cuts my hands off
          that are attached to the umbilical cord
that's the mother that's the keyboard that's
    the cyber web, and what not.
i guess it's unforced haiku incision:
    poetry or how to keep a **** in yer ***
in a crowded train...
           they always say that: keep it to yer self...
true that, but when it's waking up in the early
morn and ******* hangover, even the Chinese
poets would applaud the effort...
                     excusing the pristine haiku and rhyme
and getting knee deep in **** -
sure i could have become an engineer
or an Apple pioneer talking about a revolution  
that never ends but actually ends when the next
revision pops up on the speedy shly
               for all 'tings said: Sean was always going
to say all things, a little bit shooner...
      Mish Tooshpencepenny -
                        he does say money-penny, against the obvious,
total badass spy work, that is.
the clocks are dead, the blinds are up, but it feels
like morning, as i lie in bed i know
it's the morning sun knocking on my eyes:
it's less dictatorial, actually everything feels less
dicta, there is no need to pass on the information
of any kind, imagine: morning sun and all the things
that desire for everything to be less rummaging -
the morning sun, a sketch of how it actually feels less
intrusive than what the hell happens in the afternoon...
to be exact, half past ten a.m.,
squash and contemplation of the anti-gentlemanly
consideration of a "stop the quirk **** reroute epi",
lapse into the metabolism, like any addiction:
worthy the romance, bro.
                       and no doctor could write a better prescription,
doctors are famous for their chicken-scratching
type of handwriting, they're one and truly kindred
to be in the white-pill mafia with only pharmacists
able to decipher what is generally thought to be a cipher
morse code...
                          now, if you ask me, i see a poem like
this and think: also a prescription,
              but less white-pill blue-pill and more a hook and
an offshoot for any analogous or otherwise narrative
in a person's daily hygiene / narrative;
i don't know, you might read this and automatically suggest
to yourself that you swallowed an octopus,
                 or that you drank some consecrated holy water
out of the benediction urn in a church...
                 whatever i did, i still remembered my first
lesson in sign language in a primary school playground,
five steps to say it:
a. left palm canvas
                   with index and ******* paintbrush
      slap
b. as           above, although reversed, slap with
         knuckle side of fingers
c. wedge a V / Y          of the index and middle
                            fingers to the side of the canvas (palm)
d. then make a fist and thump it against the palm,
e. the raise your thumb with the fist still intact
           and move it away from the left palm....
psst....
           you just said: y don't you f off?!
                                               oh not personally,
i'm just teaching you sign-language i learned as a kid,
passing on the genes, as it were....
                                             either that or it's me lying
in bed trying to think whether my body is the parasite
with a finite contract, or my ego is a parasite with
a deluded infinite contract - well mascarpone macaroons
to you too... don't know, just felt like saying,
what with the killer clown craze
             and the frivolous: ever dance with the devil
in the pale moonlight?             stance of the old waggler
being all hushy hushy, and not so much pushy pushy
in a public debate; for your eyes only ta d'ah!
Breathes sigh of relief
(like toe tilly gnarly mon)
footing expenses good grief.

Onus encompassing marital
responsibilities with (Holy Scott)
Matt man locked dread
precariously rested squarely and unfairly
upon mine figurative lead

pencil necked geek hirsute head,
and bony shoulders, that said
lemme communicate with modesty
and frankly earnest Sesame Street cred

hoop fully words understandable
meant tubby easily interpreted and read
lookout for courtesy double entendres
signalling where ***** wed
did himself, yet careful to tread,

no faster than sixty nine as he sped
into forbidden, verboten two lipped arrid
hot zone bubbling volcanic oasis
plunging his swollen jughead
suffocating till gratefully dead.

Reroute threaded needle gaining nascent
ability to manage independent living,
whereby counterpart availed
her pheromone scent
spurring feeling heightened testosterone,
within instantaneous moment

thus took tactile apprenticeship
receiving mail order bride thru
correspondence course sent,
I also donned role of special ops agent
provocateur, a hardened gent
fluke how I became

process of elimination chosen incumbent
learned, familiarized, adept...
grudgingly accepted covenant
to pay affordable low income rent,
plus manage other monthly bills due, i.e.
water, telecommunications insurance

(automobile and renters), and electric -
companies (Aqua Pennsylvania, Verizon,
Nationwide and Peco
respectively) with efficient
aplomb mastered (dub bate double)
art of being accommodating tenant.

Domestic chargé d'affaires
became mine bailiwick
dint of the missus being
disinclined and less quick
budgeting, hence I inadvertently
accepted lickity split,
subsequent obligation did

smoothly clack and click,
which minimized conflict
whereby we shared equal intrinsic
reciprocity complicity, culpability
then at playtime, thee enigmatic
one whipped out adult toys
stashed in the attic.

Altercations impossible to avoid,
'specially when unemployed
(think Rob zombie humanoid)
additionally, I lacked emotionally unalloyed

communication cues, nearly destroyed
romance, cuz only recourse re: primal
non verbal, viz Braille
while disguised as android
amorousness I expressly enjoyed

satisfactorily papa bear
groaning courtesy steroid
launching petsmart aery mission
poised to strike no
matter mainly to void

i.e. unpacking heat prohibited,
one tony peppy trooper deployed,
but unexpectedly waylaid
understandably yours truly annoyed
unsheathed hot pistol manually toyed.

Admission, confession, decision firmly laid
down, I oft times insisted felt test ease made
purposeless seething hormonal secretion
triggered fountainhead sprayed

activated provocation upbraid
ding the then live in girlfriend
French kissing parlez vous
pledged troth plus
serving as milkmaid.
Kopter Zero Dec 2014
I climbed aboard a train that took me
Further and faster
Than others on horseback.
Yet now I'm desperate:
The map is all wrong,
These stations I pass are those
I wanted most to avoid.
I want to change direction,
But see only miles and miles
Of straight track ahead.
Will there be another junction,
A crossing of tracks,
A way to reroute,
To change course?
Or is the only option
Derailment?
I take it back...
there's at least
one thing to see
and hear in the Varrio
on my block.....
Eli the poet who's
10 times been shot.  
His philosophy
resounds with me
and I must give him
credit for at least
two or three. . .

Pearls of wisdom that Mellifluously flew
from his mouth...
inspired by something
deep in his soul
that had to come out
which my hand
snatched from his air
to pencil as poetry
and to all of you reroute
Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere
jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking
uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Writer's block afflicts Das scribe,
     who **** now stricken supine
     adept dull livery sub par excellence
     his gold standard worse

thus, another day
     to slog thru arduous process
     crafting admirable verse
wrestling behemoth loosed ******
     dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse.

N'er easy chore to fashion
     acceptable word worth poem to whit
staring at flickering
     accursed cursor doth blank stare visit

flash flooding warning saturated
     gray matter fist sized unit
groundswell burgeoning leveed banks
     barging signals transmit

urgent army corps of engineers
     to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit
apprentice longshoreman
     doth double duty

     as grammarian sought to retrofit
arduous struggle ensues, where drowning
     affects consummation
     strong temptation quit

ditch ching progress made,
     thus far in hot pursuit
mind comfortably numb
     stream of consciousness

     submerges concentration
     entrenched deep posit
craftiness sentenced to punctuate
     disequilibrium doth outwit

venerably beaded trademark
     Scottish matted flair
     abandoned unfinished poem
     left forever stranded orbit
     zero escape velocity

zinging, unsprung,
     pinging mindscape nonprofit
able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist
     bombarding Messerschmitt
undermining, strafing, disabling
     cutting crew rescue outer limit
faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.
Ivan Brooks Sr Jun 2019
In troubled times and hard times,
I get strong and my faith shines.
Even if I'm down without dimes,
That's the best time God shines.

At the end of my very last try
when curled up and ready to cry,
faith nudges and urges me to cope
That's when I reach for dear hope.

In the middle of my roughest storms,
I fight to hang on to the bull's horns
Even if the wait is long and perilous
I stay determined and remain courageous.

Even though I waddle in some trials
I toughen up and walk the extra miles.
Even if the walk lead to unfamiliar places,
I'll always reroute and finish my races.

IvanBrookspoetry©️
Bassapoet✍️
6.6.2019
When does the faith of a man shines best?
absinthe Feb 2017
i find it unnecessary
to exchange mixtures of letters
with the receiver i once did see me
engaging in foreseen endeavors with
but history tore me and we  

though i now retract
exceptions are had
such as
when i choose to detract
the warmth i had way back
in the past
when our fire did not brand
but did attract
us to one another
not like now
and how it knows
how to protract
to engulf us
to turn good
into bad

i release resistant exhales
and doubt
on newfound callousness i once could
reroute
only when allowed by a sizable
payout
even if along the way

it cracks

the heart
i once had

and the heart
i once had
sworn
on my life
to pass
for
before

i
let it
pass.
Ricardo Jan 2018
Tell me now are you ready to start?
It's time to evolve yourself,
Figure out everything to do right.
When everyone says stop, are you gonna go?
Only the ones that follow there own,
Only the ones that will stand out,
Only the ones not giving up,
Make it better from the start.
Will you go further than most?
Those that won't try hard enough,
Those get left behind,
Those that won't care enough,
Those will fall apart.
Tell me so you think your living life?
Do you do what you please to decide,
Does nobody deprive you of that,
Don't you, don't you fall back.
So now are you leaning on?
Can't rely on what's behind to catch.
Are you the fish in the sea?
Figure out how to cast the hook instead,
Far enough that people can't see,
Don't fear just reel it back in.
Now everyone is telling you your changing?
That's the time you advance as an individual,
When your seeking out what you believe,
Start sailing the 7 seas.
When your discovering your mind,
People will try polluting it in time.
Is this all ideas inside?
Than don't reroute the course for par,
Do all this for yourself,
Shoot for eagles like a star.
Have you achieved this belief?
Give yourself a pad on the back,
Than say thank you, thank you,
Simply for the power to succeed.

— The End —