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Robin Carretti Aug 2018
We are not on a schedule
But we are working
Ivory skills of mastery hard
We can not afford to lose
The Elephants hearts diary
The Zen of topiary
      Details
  The good luck

The hard worker making
True buck the husk of fruit seed
The Peking God of duck
Superman of gifts of steel
The movie superstitious eyes
Everyday good earth cries
Elephant Trunk
Bring on the Holiday
The tuxedo the Elephant Tusk
Godly task the top rank

Anomalous

Questioning the situation not
so delicious
Sensual so moving vivacious
The comedy of errors
Ridiculous to the sublime

The compromising position
Waiting for the next
      "Crime"
Mens of romance
Holiday the gracious gray
Taking risks

*Gallivanting never separating love
Of the tusk, life holds too many risks

Smiles and baking
more loving
The harder you mix
    Wonderful Ivory
   An elephant is a true
   ingredient
Holding the whisk over creamed
Looking high up the
white feathers
Like a beauty, I have never seen

She loves to pick his holiday
Elephants circles the tie he's
her dream
There is no truth when its a holiday
when people
Laugh between there lies

Start running toward
Elephant Tusk
Moms homemade apple caramel
pecan pies
Conflicts subjects
to paint talk to the "Elephants"
With the dreamy ivory tusk

The fragrance of Ireland
Spicy Greens musk
King hand card player tough skin
*Holiday Queen got numbered in
The men million stars of
musk saved the day it flew in

You make me feel brand new
I never made a mistake
Never one that I couldn't explain
Running towards or afterward
Those love words
Before the Gods
The veal chops
Emperor of emails
The Cops and robbers

So modest and shy with demure 
 Holiday spirit world of hands galore
What allure dreamy contentment
She got holiday advancement

The contrast between
Holiday family love the honesty
but our government magical
mystery all bribery
Go for the tour just pour
your words
Quite a mystery white baking
flour messy
Moon and the Star handkerchief style
dressy

The Astronomy we need
to build a better
Here and the now
Wondering how?

Deep brown hazelnut
coffee royal bow
Seeing through the
Gray starting to pray
The parade of the Elephant
The day we can trust
This isn't a Fay Ray
not my kind
of town
The holiday comes and goes
too quick
There you are Rick and
his cousins
It felt like a holiday of
*Tombstones
The gathering with the finest
rhinestones

More sound of silence
Please no I phones
Shut them off enjoy the
Elephants tusk and
their home turf
Not the bluest sea
Make it the lovely
    (Earl Gray)
Bringing surf and turf
More conflicts those predictions
More spiritual afflictions

Just find your peace within
His Elephant pants win
You got the whole tusk
in your hand
"Snow White Huntsman"
Affection like a
housewarming
My holiday transformation

Neon Lion light of crystal ball
The spiritual Tree elephant
Touched a part of me the art
All the fine elements bring
us closer, not the copy
of an imposter

Something to smile about
The myriad
The full length of the camera
The Elephants has a heart
no drama
Flying so Ivory gown sheer
Moms roast will not
come next year
Red devil computer
Telling me there are
Ghostbusters and
travel gliders
I am the true
Elephant lover
More homestayers
music players

Men looking astronomically
Feeling silly
in their whiskers
The world is horrifying
But there is no denying
more praying
Her heart is very thick
Elephant skin close to her
heart is luck
What is happening
to our economy
The sad thing people are selling
Elephant's
Tusk for money we need
to stop this

Lucky Elephant tusk is
turning to good luck
We pray for the world
Holy bless
The holiday Spirit there is no Scrooge here this was done differently do you love Elephant husk please save them they are beautiful and good luck this cruel world is selling them we need to stop this
touka Oct 2015
cemeteries worn
delicately fall on chests

like grandmother's old necklaces

and inscriptions from headstones
draped in cold bronze

bought and sold, their epitaphs

like grandmother's old word

her lovely verbs

swathed in gold,

and ever were costly rhinestones weaved in

until every meaning to her lovely words were lost.
Xander Duncan May 2014
My sassy gay friend
Is not an accessory
When you go rooting through the closet and find him
Lacing straight ties into chains
Do not think that he will complete your outfit
Just because a rainbow holds the hues that you were looking for
Haven’t you seen that bruises also bloom in shades of purple and blue
Fading into green and yellow
With red far too often escaping veins that are supposed to hold it in
Haven’t you seen what marks us
And brings our identity to the surface of our skin
When closet doors are slammed too often against our hands
My sassy gay friend
Is not a decoration
You do not get to wear him at your hip
To flaunt your acceptance
And claim symbiosis
As if he needs you to navigate the streets of heteronormativity
Cutting short his words when communication is the best thing we have
And when speaking fails us we resort to spending an afternoon
Sending smoke signals into the sky
Waiting for security in the focus that it takes just to
Breathe
My sassy gay friend
Is not a collectible
You do not get to gather us up into a complete set
To line us neatly in an array
Of rarities and charities
And alternative identities
Until you feel sufficiently well rounded
In your attempted diversity
My sassy gay friend
Is not an icon
A token character
Or comic relief
My sassy gay friend
Is not meant to be romanticized
Idolized
Or fetishized
He is human
I am human
You are human
And if we see each other as sparkles and rhinestones
We're all going to lose all the value
That can't be found on price tags
If God is the book then life would be the pages in him,
for us to study and turn to each new page of her.
There is so much paper here, but no place to start a fire.
A fire of words and dreams to chase.
Will you run with me, with feet wide awake?
Please do, and I won't be scared to bleed for you
when the time comes.

These words I have don't dream lifeless
or die in corral conversation or in a helpless blind study.
I will help you see it is in fact that God's home is make-believe
with no welcome mat to greet you. Maybe God never
learned to let bygones just be gone.
Maybe this is why you have never seen the glorious
Matriarch or heard her voice, but I bet it sounds
a lot like the space between a gunshot and a black
male's body hit by the bullet right before the screams.

Did you know this is what black feels like?
These pages feel like an eighth-grade suicide poem
written because it is solely triggered by life, and
since life is so freaking triggering and our only
real competition, then I will write words that are
weapons. I will write real-life pages of myself,

that is more jazz than blues, more biggie than Pac
more Prince than Michael. I will write myself out
this padded room call earth, because after all heroes
can dream too, and our thirst can become hunger and quickly
I learned to eat my own words and breathe in endless
possibility in a world where breathing is  no longer a privilege
Just a means to be necessary.

Jesus! I got a life with no religion and still, I manage to turn
doubt into rhinestones right along with these pages
of myself. I will turn page after page as if I were Jesus turning the other cheek, and like Jesus, I can take all my
dislikes and burdens and turn the into sunsets. I will teach
my pain to laugh. Ignorance is not bliss, it is kind. It teaches
us to look deep inside of ourselves to see the word of God,

and I have seen it, I have seen I am half human and half star
and my DNA is all angelic. God wrote his first poem in blood right here on Earth. Her pen never felt writer's block. He never suffered inside the ink. Do you know the difference between God and everyone else? She never starts emotional fires to burn pages of himself and herself as we do.
We are in the world, but not of it. Don't fall victim to perception and duality.
I found it on the floor of
the women’s dressing room
after a concert.
The ladies were long gone
and I was clearing up.
It was one inch long and
the wings were one inch wide.
The dragonfly had
two overlapping oval wings
on each side
and a long curved tail.
The body and tail
were set with butterscotch
yellow rhinestones.
The wings held chartreuse stones.
Two white rhinestones were the eyes.
The quality of the stones
was extraordinary
though the setting
was not really gold.

When I took it to my office
to put it
in the lost and found
my extra many ceiling lights
made it sparkle
like in a jewelry store display.
I put it on a stack of tissues
I keep at the ready on my desk
so I could see it
any time I wanted.
When I moved my head
just slightly, it would make
the sparkles seem to move as well.
It made me very happy
just to look at it
and I have no idea why.

Nobody called to claim the pin
It’s value is likely very small
But it’s come to symbolize some of
The shiny things I hope to capture
In the time remaining of my life.

It won’t be long ‘til I
am forced to
spread my own frail wings
and fly
from this cocooned
career of work.
Perhaps the dragonfly
will be a talisman
and lead me to
the meadows
I have dreamed of:
awash in creativity,
accomplishments rewarded,
and never any gales
of jealousy
or the thunderclouds of
evil that
rattle my windows here.

On the day when everything
is packed and shipped, my
keys turned in,
lights turned off
for the last time
and I am free, I will pin the
dragonfly
to my collar and
and take us looking
for that meadow.
             ljm
It would have broken my heart if someone had called to claim it.  Just a silly piece of costume jewelry.
dilshé Jun 2021
mountains shadow,
the dark canvas of the sky
spotted with rhinestones-
starry winking fireflies
as the dreamy drifty clouds
are shyly shifting by,
the strange symphony of a hum & buzz
& the distant crickets cry
awakens other-worldly feelings.
Vaguely hypnotized by its mellow
cruising down this lonely road
mesmerized as the moons gaze follows-
me, sat at the back with the window rolled down
as the nights cool breath gently sways the weeping willows....
I want to live in this moment for eternity
In this nocturnal roadtrip to infinity.
Madelin Nov 2012
The oldest one has set the bar -
Brown eyes, brown hair, natural tan,
Teeth that look just the way teeth should with no aid from metal or NASA-patented plastics.
Kappa Alpha Theta, college homecoming queen,
Following in the footsteps of our parents,
To someday hand out bottles of pills with her God-given smile and white coat to match.
I know she's not perfect, but I like to pretend.

Then there's me.

Then the next youngest,
Long brown hair, massive brown eyes, pale skin with the occasional freckle.
Her awkward phase - back brace, teeth brace, allergies, inhaler, tall and gangly -
paid off in the best way.
She wears her high heels to high school and looks straight off the runway.
She wears her pointe shoes and unfolds like a plant growing in fast-motion.
She sits at the table and draws and eats nothing but carbs and still looks made of sticks.
She wants to be a cartoonist, people tell her to be a model, a ballerina,
Our mother insists she's far too brilliant.

Then the baby.
Thin blonde hair, blue-grey eyes with a ring on the outside, grey skin when she's tired.
As Dad says: the printer ran out of ink.
She's beautiful like the rest, of course, but
she's not finished yet, still learning that her peers are generally wrong.
She frets and worries, but she listens to the music I tell her to,
and her expensive pockets have less and less rhinestones.
I tell her not to hug me so much when I come home,
But it's fine. I'm proud of her.
Someday she'll stop screaming at our mother and realize what she has to look forward to.
Courteney Jan 2014
A purple dress
pretty rhinestones
mothers taking photos on their phones
hugs and kisses
compliments astray
this was meant to be my perfect day
you stepped into view
my heart skipped a beat
I suddenly feel heavy on my feet
the smile you show to the waiting crowd
gets them going, they're getting loud
you seek me out
I'm stuck in a cluster
desperately trying hard to muster
the courage I need to
be honest with you

you look beautiful
I don't even know where this came from
Gazing into her crystal eyes
not a glimpse of light
in her pale illustrious orbs
her couture matched
the threads of a goddess woven by silk
never has the world heard such a harmonious voice
her hair as black and glossy
like raven feathers
a frame so divine
complexities came to mind
that god himself was almost unable to
carve a radiant smile as glimmering
her soft skin made her known
as the temptress of the night
her sweet mouth sang of hymns children slept too
the curvature of her chin wickedly attractive
following the course of her smile to her rosy cheeks
the ring on her finger is one of saturns
the hue from her lips are as red as foxes
burning with infinite intensity.

Her pale forehead knew every answer in the universe
the glow between her eyebrows majestic
her third eye spoke of exquisite beauty
holy light was her aura
angels danced around her
shrouding her body with stardust from the heavens
butterflies applied her makeup
whenever she arose from her chrysalis
revolving the world on her throne
without a bead of pressure to perspire
her vocals an instrument to my heart
listened to with wild passion
luster from her skin expensive as gold from India
her existence was solace
for rational reasoning alone
unflawed her lips reached mine
under the eclipse
the shadow of my phantom
caressing her hips
my wild craving tasting
what it it truly means to be in love.

The orchestra of her movement
can save a man from death
her words whispered to me like rhinestones
the touch from her waxy hand
trembling across my stature
cracking, shaking
with electricity at every fiber
pulsating from my heart to hers
capsizing from secrets dripping in my ear
she treats me to more wine kisses
traces of her ruby red lipstick
on my chest
her lofty thoughts completed mine.
the golden trim of life
seen throughout the land.
Pride Ed Nov 2014
As seen through amber in the colors of Venus and Saturn;
Sun opens upon her face as gold spills in spun blonde,
And the rose’s thorn brings about liquid rubies
That drips on the youngest lily of the valley.
Butterflies aligned with the unseen Mars on the horizon
Scatter as their wings seem to burn away in the
Brilliant firelight, touching the water that reveals
Sapphires in liquid form; an affinity for Neptune that
Dangles on her fluttering eyelashes alive with what she sees!

More rubies fall in the emerald vast as her fingers move
Across the vine, and the crystals tear through the dahlias
Like the storms of Jupiter this canopy veils!
They rest among the pink rhinestones that resemble
Cherry blossoms in perfect discord when the last one
Is drained of its color under a wooden bridge at
The foot of the forest; an old bridge covered in patchy moss,
Showing its long years of absent footsteps.
They are only distant memories to the *****,
Who emerges from the brush and drinks
From the stream in constant relief.

I watch her majesty fading her vibrant colors at sunset when
Uranus drifts. The colors fall into onyx when the sap of
The trees resemble amethyst in the moonlight.
And Mercury holding more silver falls in the stream with her
And all of her plume that we cherish as much as
Her earthly leaves, for we use both as covers for sleep.
Daydreams entwine with nightmares and become as cold
As Pluto. Ice lingers as tanzanite tears in those bright eyes;
Diamond eyes that cut through the towering clouds to discover
Stars that are made of everything here!
Will my heavenly wings be splendid
Will they sparkle like the dew?
Will they be rhinestones and pendants
In my halo all shiny and new?

Will my halo need adjusting
Or will it fit like a glove?
I better get my order in early
To the great shop up above.

Will they likely be tarnished
Smudged, dingy, or singed?
Soiled or possibly rumpled
Without and maybe within?

Might they be too heavy
Or even a little too tight?
I am hoping and I'm praying
They'll fit and be just right.


March 16 1993
Shadow Paradox Sep 2014
~
Sitting on my rhinestone lotus pond floating around in my oceanic bedroom
The haunting begins its sinister buzzing with a silent ‘vroom’
Wooden door opening by itself
My jeweled heartbeat falls from a bone frame shelf

Demons hanging like poisoned vines from the painted ceiling sky
Gods then pours their breath inside my empty soul, drowning all insinuated lies
Butterfly piano keys fluttering their enchanted melodies
The notes dripping pearls of discarded lullabies into my hidden pleas

Lost dreams entangled in my seashell hair
As I sit cradling broken memories in my emerald iris, the ones I’ve forgotten to share
Dead skin peeling from my fingertips as I turn a dusty page in my notebook
Loose frays of secrets coming apart, falling away in my Underland outlook

I remember the day I recreated my being, as I drew Self into a mermaid rose
Piercing my revolving face with a jagged pen,
**** fairytales bleeding from my lips, a new world I chose
My dress of ivory seaweed has caught onto a sharp end
I sink into the onyx murky depths of my rhinestone lotus pond, wishing for a friend

Discarded
Bombarded

Licking death, seeing the dead
My attire drifts in the sulphide air, swirling with the essence of dread
I now leave my surreal sanctuary
As rhinestones melt, the pond drains, the lotus folds its metal origami

I’m back from the world I created
Back to reality where a sententious poet is constantly hated
Back to a butterfly wallpapered bedroom where hallucination spend
Yea I’m back, but not for long, not until inspiration comes and I swallow my pen
And into my notebook realm I will be back in my own world again…
~
This is an oldie when in yesteryears I was tangled in a nightmare of a fairytale~
Dave Hardin Oct 2016
Brushwork

If I were a jazz pianist I would pay
my dues in one lump sum on a tip
from some country singer on his way

down who gives me the shirt off his back
a Nudie with piping and plenty
of rhinestones that catch the stage

lights just so and sweep in reflection
across the polished planes of my 1890
rosewood Steinway Grand Modal C

a beaut with a pedigree, one I won’t fail
to mention from the stage in the second set
during the pause between How High The Moon

and I Love The Life I Live from behind
a bobbing cigarette, sharing the remarkable
fact that this is the very same piano

Mose Allison played in a two night stand
at the Blue Note in 1962.  Later I’ll work Jimmy
the trumpet player’s name into a tune and trade

winks with the guy on upright bass
the drummer slack jawed oblivious, lost
to us all in some very tasty brushwork.
ConnectHook Feb 2017
Hi-fructose drama-nation (AKA Plebeia Ovulation-Jones), clad in a rumpled football shirt and golden sweatpants, rolled her bovine eyes, burped, then plunged into battle in the Walmart parking lot. Overweightia U.S, looking on, gestured rudely while blabbing on her phone.  America herself, standing by, talked loudly, swiveling her fat neck around with a menacing gesticulation involving her two-and-a-half-inch poisonous green fake fingernails studded with tiny rhinestones in the shape of well-known designer logos. Witnesses claimed that the altercation started when America could not find her own thong, which was lost between mountains of cellulite-rippled sweaty rolls of flesh. Splendor Obeeze, her BFF, trying to get America away from the fight scene, mooed like a feral heifer, then barked at her ex, who proceeded to taunt her while filming with his I-phone:
      Woo ooh-ooh baby Ima get wit chu den do like u cause we rollin, rollin...
Plebeia suddenly snarled at her 3 year-old daughter strapped into a car seat to leave her **** alone and then re-entered the store where she proceeded to sing to herself in the brassiere section until she bumped into her 4th toddler's baby-daddy who was mumbling into his thick beard RE tha lightweight herb he smoked wif his boy as he checked his text messages for  the freestyle lyrics by "L'il Murgatroid". The entire affair ended badly when Plebeia spilled corn-dog flavored popsicle powder all over America's thong-retrieval device. WW IV warning apps were triggered. They beeped, were ignored, failed and then were deleted. No one shouted World Staaar—u see dat? Oh shiiiittt !!
Plebeia O-J was oblivious, in any case, and strode boldly into the Walmart pharmacy section as the predatory drones prophesied in Revelation were released from the bottomless pit by Abaddon, Lord of destruction. Fabulously overweight as well, I was, nonetheless, underwhelmed by the thong itself, when it was finally retrieved from the depths of America's rumpled sweatpants, on the buttocks of which was emblazoned the final terrible message:  PINK UNIVERSITY   BITE ME.
⛧ ☃ ☠ ☮ ☯ ☢ ✌  
Walmart Absurdist Theater
Reality TV Show
✿ ⚥ ♻ ⚱ ⛓ ☮ ⚔
Isoindoline Oct 2012
She looked down at her feet with blue eyes,
Her hair bouncing commercially.
Pink straps lashed down each delicate foot;
The rhinestones at the ankle strap flashed gaudily,
Beckoning other girls to follow those feet anywhere.

She looked at the clerk with blue eyes.
A fashionable smile marred her face briefly,
As she blinked down at the person who, before,
Had been taller than she.
Teeth glinted to match the stones on the shoes,
Which she carefully removed from her feet,
And handed to the clerk.

She looked into her purse with blue eyes,
And pulled from it with vacation brown hands,
A wallet, in which was placed her father’s credit card.
She drew the card out of the leather pocket,
Using a natural, swift motion,
And placed it on the efficient mall counter.
This describes a number of the people I went to high school with pretty well, I think.
Anais Vionet Sep 2022
I’m learning a lot, dating Peter. For instance, I have a whole new awareness of how clueless older Americans, like people in their mid-twenties, are about things in the modern world.

I think Peter’s learning things too. Like the other night, I was 30 minutes late because I was gluing little, glittering rhinestones to my eyebrows. Was he mad? Yes, we had a little drama, but that’s just because he hasn’t learned to respect my lifestyle choices.

“Don’t be mawkish Peter,” I softly advised him, while fixing the caller of his shirt, “look, let's just pretend that we squabbled over this, and I won?” I suggested, helpfully. “It’ll save us time and WOW, we’re running late, OK? Seeing some small, lingering irritation, I promised, “We can still makeup later.”

The rhinestones looked spectacular, I got a LOT of compliments and in the end, I think he liked them. You know, sometimes I’ll catch him looking at me, like the moon or something, like I’m out of reach.

Guys are so.. (searching for a word).
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Mawkish: exaggeratedly or childishly over-emotional.
samasati Jan 2014
we have the same freckle on the same palm
right hand, below the thumb

you’ve got a fake parrot in your bathroom
and I grew up with one in mine, a jungle bathroom my mother painted

if you owned measuring cups, the cookies would have tasted
more like sugar and less like soap

we watched 68% of Hercules and 90% of Pocahontas
then it was suddenly 5AM and I made you stay awake with me

kisses were soft
I taught you how to make someone feel good by grazing your fingertips
up and down their arm, wrist to the shoulder
you shivered and your eyes glazed over

the affection gave me goosebumps
the guitar gave me nostalgia

you said you’re moving to london soon
I said I was so excited for you
you said you needed to get your life in order instead of swoon over some girl
I hate and I love always being that girl

you own a lady bed with rhinestones on it
you said they messed up the order but you kept it anyway
I giggled
we cuddled
you fell asleep
I listened to you snore
I left to go to work
I think you're sweet
and I’m sorry that I don’t care if I never see you again
Luka D Feb 2017
in city park a crow laughs,
while a girl scatters
rhinestones and crumbs.

the bird hops childlike
over the warm cement,
offering coins
from his beak.

a frowning man
at the bus stop
probes the folds
of his wallet
for a bus token.

deft fingers
meet softness-
pinches of
rhinestones,
and crumbs.

he smiles,
remembering
freedom.

"fair trade
for some,"
he says.
e Jul 2014
It’s better not to look
at the heartache
the nameless, faceless pain
but I see you everywhere
a sight to behold
in funny coincidences
as I think of beauty,
I only see you.

You break me into pieces
yet I cry, “hold me now”
now that I’m bare and vulnerable
without the sparkling
sunset hue
that youth bestows
I need you to see me now
as you saw me then.

So as you wrap your coat around you to leave
I will be
the taste that remains
of a bittersweet story
the vessel to pour yourself into
when hope becomes dim
and you need a place to hide.
Mohamed Nasir Nov 2017
This trinket this tiny beads of fashionable
Necklace
Of stones not acrylic or rhinestones but from
Rocks
May not be seen in trinket shops or in some
Glass case
Rocks of the Alps looked like little trivial chalks
Now
In one of my traveling that I found the trinket
For her
The small stones tugged at my longing heart
At home her eyes alighted she ask "can I have
This father?"
And I bought her this trinket piece of tiny art
This trinket fashioned from boulders of rocks
To obsidian glistening pearls round her neck
She wore it well matched her hair her pretty
Little locks
Cost me a little fortune but with this tiny trinket
I can looked back
wordvango Aug 2015
on the first Tuesday last month,
I saw my Black Lab
propose to my grey and white cat,

I had noticed a certain something going on;
I thought it was aggressions over territory or food,
never imagined they had deeper feelings.

He had a little collar , with rhinestones,
for her, about like what I could afford if
some girl tickled my fancy.

She, answered with ,  " meow" and a cheek rub,
how could I turn down their romances.
I filled their dinner dish with fresh hot dogs,
their water dish with clean cool water, and a few rose petals,

went outside to let them be alone, heard such a ruckus,
reminded me of my honeymoon. When I came in  my remote was chewed up.

The next month, Time Warner sent me a bill for an ******* movie
,  101 Damnations does a *****.
I laughed.
Glenn McCrary Apr 2012
A golden fortune
lingers along the patterns
of my palm; a ****** suave
the mere touch; a picturesque
symbolic of greed and dishonor
thousands of lips taste
swiped corporate rhinestones
Jenn Nix Jan 2015
Those vices I dropped like rhinestones
on the starry path to respectability
become diamonds when he whispers "tonight"
when he reaches out to my child weary flesh
-unwillingly- I will respond but.
I cannot shrug off the dishes and bills
the stain on the floor where the cat bled
the un-watered plants;
how many times have I written these lines?
Ah God…even my most poignant moments
have become mundane -
like the Taj Mahal must appear
to the beggar on the steps
selling downloaded pictures
in the shadow of holiness.
rough draft... needs much work!
Vernarth was ready at the threshold of the validity of the constellation of Orion, barely a hundred millionths as indicated by the Duoverse in his Cosmogonic amphiboly, and sensitive to physical space with the Kli vessels that he carried on his back that were in the proximity of the Loop of Bernard as the Omission nebula as the exponential hemicycle in the center of Aurion's oculus waiting for Vernarth and redistribute its molecules at 518 light-years or 440 Parsec, with the diameter that will be reflected in Patmos of more than 300 light-years condensed with the element of Hydor or water from high space over Aurion. Vernarth, united by the fragrant hand of the Mashiach, could carry it when he moved away from the Opistodomos and the remains of incandescent lagoons of supernova materials that surrounded them to accelerate the mass of the Iridescent Nimbus that Vernarth would carry, and the Mashiach as a sentinel of his Purgation. already defined whenever the simultaneous explosion of the Super Nova with Patmos becomes effective, and the Terrestrial World in impulsiveness that admonished him under the right shoulder blade in the skinny hollow of the arm that was getting rid of the oscillometer right at the original entrance of Betelgeuse, and when Vernarth remained alone in the frontal altitude chamber to take off towards the cosmogonies of Eridanus to tune into the Ptolemaic astral. The Sybilla who acted as stellar consort would be Herophile with overtones of expansion and her brilliant metric mass that would take her through Betelgeuse Orionis allied to a multifunctional instrument such as the entrance Aulos, expelling hydrogen-like an Ace in 240 harmonic scales, and sounds of light that they boomed towards the Pleiades and the Milky Way where it would be the supposed first state of paradox where Vernarth would utter: "Give me a little Gála and I will be more than Zeus". This is where he will experience the diarthrosis of his synovial joints in the process of Hyaline cartilage, allying himself with the two bones and synovium to hunt down the Trapper Aurion in advance to wake up from the feared defenseless world that he feared since everything he abandoned despite having his Purg discharged, he kept sensing that if nothing would work for a lost world. Here Vernarth would hold Alexander the Great's first childhood vision as an infant at Péla using his scapula with the force of rubbing discs at the Olympiad making the sky his Odyssey-encrusted Constellation of whips, and sullen Hellenistic being by May in the amber trunk trapezoid and in each hand a Xiphos and Dorus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His parents will be the co-princes gathered on the Supichi road bound for the Horcondising, where Vernarth all Austral Winter Solstices will come to ask his parents for an audience in the Kanthillana Heights where they will summarize the exact day, that everything happened from a Thursday to a Sunday in the first hour of the most certain Saturday in which the twelve unnatural candles will be incorporated into the Duoverse from the branch of the Raedus Codex, specifically from the Antiphon that accompanies them to the compromised one, and sinuous height that was misted by the mist of snow, and vehemence that was perceived in the greatest regulars of Spílaiaus, having a ring of lights as if such were a gesture of Jerome and everything that was named in the concordance that could be confusion that slipped from the metaphysics of new space by beginning. From such a root emerges the Eta or value number and Vernarth symbolized as  N times from "8" to the entire value of the figure of 800 "w" or Omega, which will be the values of figures and numbers to predispose the alternation of the visits that will take place. to have with his precursors each Solstice, after alternating with the Elves of Archimedes, and to cross with them the manifestations that made him lighter than air, as could be expected before the imposition of everything that he imagined to sleep to the badly gestated world that had been altered, even with a remote Faith that symbolized the decisions of Saint John the Apostle by disposing of the salvages of the vestiges that had been destroyed in the physiognomy of a cause that proved more eloquent than a mere revelation that was never believed which would awaken from its very Semitic superlative. In this case, the allegory surpassed the prototype of all curly visual language that emanated from Vernarth's decision for the humanity that needed him, on the one hand, Saint Jerome already resolved, and Saint John the Apostle in the division of two events of the same story that It was melting into the complexity that would be unspeakable for two Saints in the middle of Vernarth, demonstrating that he had taken them with all the power of the force that is capable of pulling and manipulating until arriving at the darkness of the senses where all understanding and reasoning fall asleep. only allowing the silence to take them in the ellipsis recently emanated by the Nothofagus that were walking on the flaccid snow, the three went with graces of faith and satisfaction, Saint Jerome escorted them with everything healthy that made the incomparable awakening of two latitudes explode who managed to revive in invisibility, after resisting the latent verbigrace of the Apokálypsis that showed that the incomparable topic denoted the ma Greater resistance to everything destructive and Omega with the only subjection that only the verb "Love" does. They reached the icy and stinking gases similar to what Santa Rita de Casia emanated, which at the same time would be dividing breakers like those declared by the Corinthians about the Israelites when they were blinded by the radiance of Moses. The same would happen in the veil of little snow that was left behind his last steps when everything was white as a growing incident that would be attached at once to Patmos and Sudpichi, as well as Kanthillana and Olympo. He says goodbye to his parents and they carry their impulsive agreements to meet on the next Solstice together with Saint Jerome and Spilaiaus on the plateau.
Genesí of  Apokalypsis
Timothy Sep 2014
I wander purple valleys,
in search of guava stones.
For cotton in the sunflowers,
for rubys in rhinestones.
I search for love in abuse,
& acceptance in neglect.
I search for me inside of you,
for wrong in the correct.
looking...in all the wrong places.
Andrew Dunham Jul 2015
I awoke from pseudo-sleep to frigid sweats and an unhealthy heartbeat
my mind snowy as the television opposite me, morning, half past three.
I dreamt up a personal narrative, reflecting on dreams forgone
time deferred, potential memories collecting dust on a suburban lawn.
Similar to that of books gifted to me, never read, and currently locked,
Vonnegut converses with Hemingway within a cavernous box.
Tucked neatly beside the dehumidifier, bottom level of my fortress
My once-manicured front yard so overgrown, you'd expect wild horses
galloping about like I once did before my femur weathered like sea glass,
leaving me like my alabaster figurines, just more stationary mass.

I've grown accustomed to drawn curtains and opening them at nightfall,
my eyeballs have grown to love staring contests with my blankest wall.
Not-quite-yet-discarded alcohol bottles have become my closest fellows,
kind enough to let me grasp them as action figures between my yellowed fingertips. We'd make dates to watch Local on the 8's together,
humming along blissfully to the muzak without regard to the weather.
Since my everyday life now remains a comfy 72 degrees, accompanied
by a soundtrack of leaky faucets and turning pages of AARP magazines.

Now completely alone I float, clinging to life in a sea of unknown
Clawing a barely buoyant lifevest filled with styrofoam and rhinestones
If I were still as spry as a spring chicken, I'd walk ten paces in the kitchen,
I'd draw my nine and snipe a mirror for displaying an unpleasant image.
If my eyes had less cataracts I'd be in the process of shredding them to bits
because I never wanted to peer through lenses so dull and spiritless.
If my ears were better, I'd hear fewer phantom telephone rings,
answer every telemarketer, hear more synthetic voices advertising things.
I'd never touch my college sweaters for the regrets they would conjure,
But now I'm finally grown up, wasn't that what I always wanted?
i dreamt that i was an old man one day. scared the bejesus out of me.
Nathalie Anna Jun 2014
It’s one dollar per load Wednesday and
Time move’s slow at the corner of East Clinton Street
Where under dim flickered fluorescent lamp posts
Tricks tossed in bottles than splashed back in flasks
Flung to back pockets of loiterers at the Laundromat,
Seems to be a prized accessory of the regular.
The regular, leans on washers with leather skin wrinkled wrung hung far from healed bones, like hangers hanging loose clothes.  With soapy brain, bleached hair matted like a rats
She remembers rents way past due, Joey about to come through, and hunger is bad.
Fast thoughts surpass the regular
She smiles behind me through glass reflecting washers.
Mouth full of rotting cavities gleam in the mirror, the sass shuffles outside and lights a red for a change of scenery
Waiting hesitantly during weekly ritual
Which entails more steps than her walk up the avenue
Separating the darks from the whites, like Grandma used to
Detergent, unbranded is used sparingly
She folds each article of clothing carefully, basking in each minute
Diligent about cold wash versus perm press best suggests that for her today life is made easy
For the regular, laundry day is a great escape
Because fabric builds fast in those plastic baskets basked with sweat saturated dresses for a baby
And Joey’s boxers
Today the regular can transact funds to feel fresh, dryer warm complacency in jean skirts plagued with rhinestones
Costumes crafted to endure weekend sin
At the corner of East Clinton Street, those who do not feel like feeling when dire deeds did ***** cheap lose meaning; come here to worship or cleansed
Meaning, I can’t seem to haul this hamper of laundry laundered with various v-neck tees tainted by poisonous stains, regretfully sunk to the bottom of cotton follicles
It’s too heavy to toil with
amrutha Feb 2014
She shines bright like a diamond in the dust
with dreamy silver droplets floating on her crust
A warm sense of serenity descends upon your shoulders
when you close your eyes to think of her.

She catwalks on the red carpet of the skies
and moonwalks her way into the foggy background
She hides behind the clouds and blushes
If you catch a glimpse, you'll never stop staring by.

When the world runs low on sunlight
She marches to all center of the sky
With a billion thousand platinum rhinestones alongside her
She sings a lullaby to the babies hypnotized by the dark night.
- ♪Amy.
Inspiration is everywhere.
si May 2014
n
i dreamt of the girl with golden hair

her eyes glow green grey, like rhinestones through her hair

short and thin, with a stutter in her talk

every now and again, a stutter in her walk

she's gone now

i'm crying
i'm writing
i'm smoking
i'm sighing

i dreamt of a girl with golden hair

just a dream of a girl, **who's no longer there
cait-cait Nov 2016
Little blue boy-
don't sleep for me, i
am not
your
princess
decked in rhinestones
that come in
red and
pink,

so kiss your fist and
say goodbye, my
heels just aren't that heavy...

save me in
another
life.
what the **** ever, man. i have the emotional health of a cheese grater.
Third Eye Candy Mar 2013
[ as the knot finds the noose, the night ]

full of dead Aprils and lilac fumes, marjoram rhinestones and the ****** cinders of delight
over charmed by lightning, nocturnal passions of a dire hope suspended in hopeless plight

ornate cups as fragile as a poisonous thought made of human love
sworn enemies sipping tea from intangible ceramics, their black silk gloves
gleaming in the twilight apocalypse of surrender, at war with wisdom
in mad gardens of eden,
two dragons horde stars enough to confound astronomy
and arguments
that hold for every possible lie, sustaining the hypotheses of heaven
in orbit of a void
a lush velvet, gaping maw at the center of faith
and our kites, tethered to the follicle of our I

[ as the knot finds the noose, the night ]

surrounding the red apples of forbidden things, clinging to a fork, branching off from the center
of non local truth... a tremor in the force that sings the Universe into question,
but never into being

our magnificence, savoring sweet Life, smitten by meaningless miracles, as befit a fools indifference
to Reality... our long wings on specks of dust
amuse the blizzard of unknown laws, and yet we persist in beauty and susurrus

the rustle of angels on fishhooks
as we reel in the big
One.       [ Divided ]
mari Oct 2021
dancing hazily as he smokes
lazily, blue-lipped Turkish square;
cherry brighter than his love.
fiendishly palming in the dark;
superstition rules his life like
his favorite little white *** lush.
summer died like his bride in
November; consummation in progress.
angel sent by sunbeams and sugar cane;
siren sent silently from some Caribbean island
beckoning him from across the realm.
headshot, sawed-off, ethereal glow.
vows breathed fearfully as fists rained down.
her name's on the tip of his tongue,
but he's so far gone now his memory's grown
fuzzy, though surely he's not forgotten.
how could he forget his one true love?
the one he risked it all for, fought God for;
his most prized possession, his pin-up
queen found in pieces on the streets
of Paradise Valley just past Wyoming,
glittering just outside the *******.
rhinestones like diamonds decorated her flesh,
black eyes from a man who came and left,
tiger stripe bruises from the ones who
could never love her the way he could.
had he dreamt her? or was she real?
were her tears or her blood real?
****** had bonded their souls and as if
by the grace of God her spirit haunted him
spitefully; her apparition found him frightened
in his hide out in the desert and he knew
he had to settle the score, so he headed east
back to the scene of the crime, back to
the city it all began and he begged her
to let his soul rest as he had not let hers.
his girl, his princesa, his Bonnie, his jewel,
the one he had so shamelessly and brutally
left for dead on the side of the road in fresh snow,
laughed viciously at his fearful pleas and
reminded him of all the life she had missed,
all the innocence lost on a drunken whim
because he had no control over the demon
that made itself a bed in his heart or
the weakness he felt when he saw how broke
her heart was over a man who was anyone
but him; and in an instant he had known what to do,
promising her the world as he destroyed
what good she possessed until she was nothing
more than a cold body in the passenger's seat
of his slate grey beater. he knew he would
never be free from visions of her smiling and
singing 'i love you's as he took her life until he
took his. if there really is a God out there,
he's a cruel master, but so too is a lover who
goes rogue when his love's gone up in flames.
daydreams don't equate to reality if u have to force someone to love u
Radwan Jun 2010
Your rhinestone eyes are like factories far away.
and I chase them deep into our red sky.
the hunt will change me and twist me like I was made of clay.
because your love's like rhinestones falling from the sky.
they fall in my hands and silence my cry.
more...
more...
I want more, is what i pray.
AllAtOnce Aug 2015
You're my Prince Charming
You just don't know it yet
Be my white knight
On a black horse
With sword made out of words
Be my foothold
Carved out of rhinestones
With a heartbeat made of gold
Be my partner
Be my lover
Be the one I've been waiting for
Be the bad boy
To my good girl
And I promise
We'll rule the world

I'll be your novel
You be the author
Shaping who I am
You be my Shakespeare
And I'll be your Juliet
Baby we'll make it somewhere
I'll be your guitar
You pluck my heartstrings
All you have to do
Is say "hello" to me

Walk over
Walk your pretty eyes over
Come closer
Why'd you ever have to leave
Don't you wanna know me
Like I wanna know you
Don't you wanna kiss me
Like I want to be with you
We're meant to be
Even if you don't know it yet
I can see it all
In my minds' eye
Remember I'm
The one who they pushed you to
All it takes
Is for you to walk over

You be my bodyguard
I'll be your princess
You be my good boy
I'll be your witness
You be the bad news
I'll be the wanna be
You be the shadows
I'll be the way you breathe
You be the teacher
I'll be the student
Why didn't you bring me where you went
You be the one for me
I'll be the one to beat
Won't you just say "hello"

Walk over
Walk your pretty eyes over
Come closer
Why'd you ever have to leave
Don't you wanna know me
Like I wanna know you
Don't you wanna kiss me
Like I want to be with you
We're meant to be
Even if you don't know it yet
I can see it all
In my minds' eye
Remember I'm
The one who they pushed you to
All it takes
Is for you to walk over

If you would even show a glance to me
I would be everything for you
If you would even smile at me
I would give everything to you
Why didn't you tell me when you'd leave
Why couldn't you be someone for me
But if you never said "hello"
And I never said a word
What good is anything?

If you'd be the thunder
I'd be the lighting
I'd be scared
Be good
Be frightening
If you'd be the rain
I'd be the trees
I'd be loved
Be good
Be happy
If you'd say "hello"
I'd say lets go
Let's run away
Run fast
Run far
Run somewhere safe

If you would even show a glance to me
I would be everything for you
If you would even smile at me
I would give everything to you
Why didn't you tell me when you'd leave
Why couldn't you be someone for me
But if you never said "hello"
And if I never said a word
What good is anything?
If I never said a word
If I never said a word
What good is anything

Oh, oh hello
Just say hello to me.
Sorry another long one.
Mike Hauser May 2014
Sent out the invitations
Up and down the party line
With a tweak of the imagination
The party to end all times
If this don't get you misbehavin'
That right there would be a crime
So come one in fact come all, we'll help you spend your dime

Leave behind all your senses
And inhibitions at the door
Pull yourself up a lawn chair
All you drunks pull up a floor
This is the party of a lifetime
No one can ignore
And when it comes down to it, ain't that what a party's for

I knew there'd be a slight crowd
But I had no idea
That it'd be so eclectic
To include zombified midgets
Along with Henry the VIII
With a few beheaded wives and kids
That guy's a lady killer like nobody else's Biz

There's bearded circus lady's
Hanging off the chandeliers
Politicians kissing babies
Spreading a message for all to hear
The only problem is the message
Never is quite clear
Still the crowd stands on it's feet with the loudest cheer

I saw both the Bacon brothers
Eating a ham sandwich by poolside
As a plane flew overhead
Writing a message in the sky
The end of the world's tomorrow
You can kiss it all goodbye
Might as well continue partying if tomorrow we're going to die

At the stroke of midnight
Marilyn Monroe steps through the door
With a bag of party favors
And Elvis Presley in tow
No more need for the Disco ball
With his rhinestones all a glow
We hang Elvis high as the rest of us hang low

The party got so rowdy
The neighbors called the police
Who saw it as beyond control
So they called the local priest
The only ones that need saving
Are the drunks down on their knees
Ocefier arrest them then please help me find my keys

It's now the morning after
And everyone is gone
The biggest mess I've ever seen
And more out on the lawn
It's all one big blur to me
Of who, what, where was going on
But I best get busy cleaning before Mom and Dad get home
JP Goss Jan 2015
Their eyes did the judicious scan down to our shoes,
Muddied silence gave us away,
Cartographers of the naughty ditch we huddled in for warmth
Alight go the zip-lock bags are knuckles giggled in
Pulling the drug like creativity,
Often enough to it portraiture;
Spacily, we followed their eyes, lay flaccid fixéd
To there, they stay, when precautions cross and made
Punitive pleasures of the proxies, and all.

Rest assured, we did not care.

Blush for the dervishes, aslant, a chin
Ravaging to the eye, a glance, a smile,
Hoping a spin, awry a touch is enough to motion the room
Sheepish, onto the other,
From there at poles and solemn way: yearning.
Sticky lips, servile mementos
Wishing to be the real thing, palms
Inexorable ones, warmly tie loose ends of the world
Together, sharing as some do the spectator’s space
So twain between him and the moon: mind, body, soul
A coupling of felicitous breadth
And her come-hither stare, clung to lusting silence
Dim, in throes of mere taboo, they stay
Safely, that personal place, the jeers of teenaged love
They buried under blankets to escape.

Rest assured, they did not care.

“Replay, diligently, the last song and keep,” she said,
“Your sarcasms to yourself. I lived it before
Before, oh, it fell all into place; the fiction of photos
Will not keep food in my mouth,
Turned down in nostalgia—to be birthed
Is first in the long thread of loses,
Doled out in tips, the ringed coffee, holding each other together
While I move between tables too eagerly,
Unwelcomed contentment
Wears the dancer’s shoes mockingly
A still-life, still life just gets it, the sad times
Are written, my still life has bills to pay
Arranged like puerile bursts, blossomed hearts
Wanting to pull you through the hole in the earth
And show you the center/poetry buried in still
Lifeless end-times we gave up for access
To green roads of experience and all their contradiction;
The rest was all just small talk.”

Rest assured, she did not care.

Her and I wept away from the palpable, at feelings
Knowledge of solutions to pathos, Love begs itself
Remediation, wrong at every turn, swiftly
Excising its possessions:
Do you love me, or is it ought?
Do I love you or merely the thought?
Long, is it, to have or be—
An aspect of a thousand chattering sounds
Plentitude of voices harken answers we
Bear not to hear, but form in the absence
Bliss, enscribed on parchment, out lovely whole
Complementing our moon,
Bringer of the yeasts of child, of its own siege
Full of what we’ve only given room.
I say, recourse for our maddened state, what we promise
In rhinestones, bands us together, in too small a space,
Too short a time, is that of theft and thing—
Undo, undone the marks the sane voices’ command
We, thus, are to be lectured, tongue-in-cheek
The portmanteaus of proper affection, bed-pleasures: individuality,
Its arithmetic and the modals virile, my destiny divisible
Or walk divided, infinitely one,
Autoerotically in praise of my bottled ***, given to all,
Shared with none, taughtfull-wellknown
A love may never love but itself
If it has choice between—it chooses self,
Indulge, indulge the unlovely ecstasies sure
All lessons lead to conclusion, different in their by-ways
Restlessly falling short of dreams, for the fallen fruits
And sour with despair.

Rest assured, we did not care.

— The End —