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Vernarth sequence

Prophecy I -  “Eighth month of sailing in systemic plenitude”

“Since they will not hunt us down in all our Itheoi cycles…
nor in other lapses from where the fine eye could have sewn the buttonholes of the shroud, where there will be life and if there will be a short time without life...
dragged by you for a long time where the sun is melted over the word, staying stored and locked in your pocket to collect it blushing,
tomorrow's jump without a yesterday declining..., without a tomorrow in the heat of a bonfire...
lamb in bait handled being the portal of those who have been slapped inside their cheeks… who will not shorten the cycle that transcends all the oblong sepulchral vaults or who abound in the nonsense of sanitizing nights of ***** despot life having to measure themselves in your flourishing duel by Aiónius of the cleanest dew of its solid stroke and announced delineation of the new one that has been retraced again being more than a brief syllable created again fertile, in the biosphere mouth so as not to see you omnipresent mist, meditating not having you and that dares to meditate on your future that will have to be reserved for yourself by professing it when you are cold in front of you and insinuating if in living followed by letters to be flooded pondering like a paralyzed sleeping part that wants not to be covered with feigned warmth and that does not fit in all the parts of me being who wants to be consul of some shelter with all those who sleep also half dreaming in the company of the lost afternoon that never ends serving Saint John in Katapausis here, perhaps Aiónius del Ibico 1 as a magnificent and net unit that sees the luminous truth when we all come out of a prophecy alive even if it's dark ".

"What a reckless job of losing value,
I am already in Katapausis in the eighth month...,
I entered as the light opened with my hand turned into the light...
being already a katapausis meaning in Sabbatarianism.
Quasi-unit method exhibiting cohesion to the rest motif
With levers in my hands and intra-sabbatism in his dissertation...
of an exegetical and theological nature that has transpired soft insomniac light, We are a people who do not have to fear or air to deposit for a future warehouse above the Sycamore or birds that guard all the Gold above my hands on the Sycamore…”

"Stay in my house, if I don't come back it will be yours
stay at home, it will belong to everyone even in the apocalypse...
that more reckless will be silent as a work of losing value,
Katapausis is the threshold where my life enters and leaves at once,
stay at my house, if I don't come back it will be yours...
Open windows by meekly closing them to that confronted obverse to you...

He comes from a den relativized on reliefs in weathered beads...
they will be soluble mineral beings convened moving away from the most distant and closest to the least distant…, from waters of underground siphons… there we will all be floating… like vertebrate invertebrate animals”

Vernarth, after not entering the grotto not having found Saint John, goes outside where he goes on a campaign for three months before he can be received by God's law. Here he meets with Reader and his pelican, as well as Eurydice.


Prophecy II -  “Seventh, Inter-synergy energy”

“Three months I have waited in the middle of this mountain,
symmetrically arranging the steps to be taken, not going backward
prana of life walking in oceans of life walking…
us and them… how much must separate us to reach us?
what I have not tried to separate…, what I have not been able to achieve…

I think I died early in the worlds that haven't risen yet,
I think I was reborn late among dense curves that overwhelm us with straight lines
soul, principle, matter, and material distinctive ontology
Ghost god of parallelisms beings and activities in affinity...
starvation body of low energy ceasing creatures in embryo
incessant firstborn to infuse other confining souls
trails demons slip where my ashes hands are sore
wounded doctrines to engender and doctrines to ulcerate...

As the prophecy uses the sea carrying messages resolved from shore to shore
close to a Virtual why in the twilight your Faith that must be glandular… matter of soul and body exposed to predisposing theological and chemical, in pursuit of the corruptible whole in vice versa if he does not burst with atheistic impatience.”

Eurydice takes a zither and sings tempting stormy actions to Vernarth, Raeder and Petrobus put their souls in line in the first linear principle, Together with the matter of corporeal fire proceeding to the definition where all the parts are confirmed without distinction dancing next to them creating the greatest bond of faith in body and soul, thus spending the three months in a few words of light of the sated fire.

"In the eighth-month katapausis, eight times your permanent peace must rest in
cited state; once it is translated into Sabbathisms and it will be the same state… When everyone finishes their dance in the cave and enters believing they have the courage to enter eight times in connection with rest…, plus eight times in connection without rest.
In some verses, the urgency of the entrance will be accentuated. The main issue “is that history will be repeating itself exactly where the Israelites were at Kadesh-Barnea. A related term either synonymous with Kadesh or referring to one of two sites, is Kadesh (or Qadesh) Barnea. Various etymologies for Barnea have been proposed, including 'wilderness of travel' but none have produced a broad consensus. What is the consensus? will we stop believing or lean on the shores of a preacher rain of Jehovah or lean on the shores of a preacher sinful waterfall or lean on the shores of a preacher confessing rain or lean on the shores of a preacher wet wind inquisitor...? where ever the aromas of its faithful winds served will go sacred to everything named before and many before the confessing rainy…, waterfalls in favor of the temperamental inquisitor wind”.

Astheneiais”, in Greek is and will be a weakness, in Hebrews a moral connotation and will mean not only physical weakness but a conscious weakness and trembling in temptation. Our Lord also understands us in this weakness because he was tempted in every way as we are. Since he himself was tempted he knows from experience what it means for us to be tempted. He was not tempted in all the particulars of our life, for example, He was not tempted as a husband or father, owner or employer or soldier, because he was none of these things. But he was tempted in all three areas of human susceptibility: body, soul, and spirit.

Prophecy III -  “Sixth, Resilience…”

“They were on the perimeter trying to keep me together at his command,
I go every day for its pantry, food, groceries, bookstore supplies and ink, oils, and other essences for the environment in continuous handwritten obedience, I have to leave for Skalá where some residents are waiting for me who have ordered to bring materials from Gricos and Psili Ammos to project your home,
If this has been written like this, it is because my pleasure in walking has written it, in the company of the one, he has written for the one who walks next to me the god Ibicus!

They always asked me why to mention why I have to do this for them… I will tell you that I used to serve leaders who consolidate the Hellenic geography,
without them, everything would have been invaded by unled foreign hands… in that rest, I have to attend to the verse that precedes it...
which says that we have already entered where I already intend to argue the following…

Resilience and exhortation that from the beginning I have taken since it began... now I will abide by and present your messages in a very predominant note, I was Hoplite Commander of the Falange and Hetairoi, now a Christian who does not dispute living a life of obedience to those who are not and are not without his martyrs...
like those people to whom God swore they will not enter my rest
whose amen will be preached in the passive voice verse!

Remain as the verb indicates with the real facts, the word
independent of the present, independent of who and when…
Saint Gabriel my Abrahamic angel will give me white strength and frolicking lilies like baskets of hermaphroditic lilies procreating only-begotten forests at the altar.

Stand tall over the Abrahamic fire without knuckles or shields,
rethink your beloved woman and take a sudden step to heal your wounds there is so much grass to cut and so much poetry to chew...
up the mountain towards Skalá at night after drinking wine
Epitrapezios Inos setting fire with innocuous saffron atmosphere
lips of fire and bread, for a good offensive fight.
Greek fire naphtha, cinnabar, and anthracite.

Wake up united with the deep disorder
Grant the color that deserves to have your day as a constellation
with the image that rests on your angular and calloused hands.
stopping spaces of loss more than all the centuries that waited for the minimum incense to a good warrior, sweet wine for open bleeding wound not his… the thunder that hides baptisms in all hearts empty of blood...

“While Vernarth was praying in the oracle he felt a thunderous supra sound As if the gates of hell had opened...
As if millions of seconds of angels were to be dispersed from the sky
To reduce more seconds of silence to the thinnest pleading eardrum

A few days ago I saw a ghost that was chopping wood...
I couldn't realize that he was really Him...,
I also saw him cutting thousands of volumes from a library...
Also, not realizing it, I saw several, like more than eighty manuscripts..., of breaths that still did not prosper in the hands of San Marcos...

A gigantic door slam is felt again...!
again it was the angels that came
at the wrong time in his return..., but now in his repatriation
they climbed through and into the Garden of Eden.”

Vernarth, evicted from the habit of the unknown, was apprehended by his craftsmanship of him, he was still attentive to be received by San Juan. The longer he waited to be arranged for an audience, he did not postpone what his memory pointed out to be more than an experience plotting capacities in the face of his own limitations. From that moment on, a gigantic gate slam is felt again! the angels who went back one after another with their polished golden-white cloaks relapsed..., but now making the Garden of Eden their own,... being theirs in what was theirs, that they would be in the house of a wise gardener of Eden perhaps being the same Katapausis manger at once!

Raeder says: hugging him profusely! time has to fly like little angels, having them by your side as companions of the time that is leftover on their wings, giving it all to your enjoyment of living and feeling it lost in you without finding it. ! khaire mi Vernarth!, I have some karidopitas with nuts and yogurt accompanied by baklava with nuts in delicious syrup from Kalymnos. Petrobus jumped for joy and fluttered like a hummingbird to steal a few pieces! Eurydice and Vernarth did the same. That night they told militia stories while they ate the morsels, so they fell asleep as if it had been the first time they had fought such a great menu. Euridice assists in the same with his fresh clean face, creating an atmosphere of conciliation to renew the dream of a day that will dawn close to his waking up far from the criminals. Vernarth takes the staff from him from then on and divides books and manuscripts into two portions so that he has time to take steps to really feel that he can walk close to Saint John.

Prophecy IV -  "Fifth, Nature, Manuscripts and Jophiel"

“Zeus wakes up trembling, full of headaches saturated with Herbs for headaches Jophiel speaking this time with the Kabbalistic language of the Torah...with golden commoner super zone of the Organikon Sorousliston Papadikon….age-old music that supplies Zeus with protein albumin, to make him more human…Zeus accepts Jophiel by placing his head about the house of Jophiel; a divine island to throw cards…brings the second ray to the Sahasrara at the crown of your head, pacifying love that is the suspicious and risky loser of everything risk in the head especially when a feeling is born!

Zeus turns his head and Jophiel twists it to the opposite side
about the ruined zeros that he did not count from the plasma of his dependency, Zeus feared having albumin at risk of human transmutation... happy to be able to cry he imagines slipping into the middle of a lake and he sees that he falls on Hera's poultry harming none, Zeus pours brimstone from his mouth and milks inelegant prose from the scythe…

Trina flame whose son bears glorious her bearer,
thousands of lives being clumsy for the wisest destitute
being what in the present you were more than past trine
when you harbor from Hanael's Blue Sodalite quarry
the imperfect perfects when you listen to your
body how it beats, how it breathes... you realize that it is perfect
as is Jophiel and discerns repairing the wisdom in the decisive punt
where gum rosin myrrh and multi urban frankincense go
towards the soul plane architecture of the human plane.
Hardened Zeus overflows glazed sallow emulsion of war
coagulated exhausting guarantor of everything is well,
books of the silent world of nails that do not sound sheets,
Hanael in massive books divides sounding with her iris gel-colored nails encrypted library manuscript of a thousand years, the voluptuous organism of a thousand years…
flapping unpredictable millennia and wiry hands,
colossal capstans…, annihilated with a thousand years…
a silly propeller that spins like a sickle rolling over a certain holistic tabernacle of the small portion of the next day when Zeus awoke to the diaphanous threatening light with sunless cloud waistband…
His face is seen with frowns and he looks at his face as well
without seeing folds…but in front of the Aiónius.

The geranium appears in the representation of the natural whole kicking the Sickle, much more here lost of our spiritual being
Zeus Jophiel's hardened shoulder heats up only to lean on Him...
light on his shoulders fires on both of them…
how long it takes to save us perhaps twenty times what supports us even tired and much more unwrapped than the treachery of him alone and without being followed without knowing
nothing more than a thousand-year-old shell through which he would drain…perhaps a tortoise-like millennial angel walked up to the omega! joy preparing to give you live hopeful,
that if it would be timely to give you more life...
Here is Aiónius reordering the world together with Zefian…
He shares everything eternal of all your life that floats in the sea,
miserable mix space where capo dastro separates the end
where all the wheres cannonade the hoarse fire...
cement that joins brick wall and plenary adobes
love without nature that castrates your beautiful woman
that hides her face without mascara looking for it...
let's go outside says Vernarth..., we still have a few seconds in his solvent... sensible, full, and arc well-being...
as if you were floating in the air floating more
also needed me to teach you before your limits limit you,
and make you angry from the miserable sense,... Don't listen to me anymore...!!”

Vernarth puts his first three fingers on the capo dastro roosters crow with his skin vibrating beyond the sleep of Raeder and Petrobus. Reader wakes up and says…; My Vernarth I will make fire and heat water. Petrobus runs with his wings to look for sacred wood. Eurydice comments…, I will prepare the praiseworthy sacred breakfast.

When they were preparing to do all this, Jophiel and Hanael appeared to him, joining in the breakfast that would feed all the days and millennia of the world. Unleavened fruit, honey, and milk multiply above all, satiating hunger with satiated satisfaction.

Prophecy V – Fourth, Limbus Necropolis

“From so far away…, so far away that I listen to your sacrosanct cries…!
from the Koumeterium of Messolonghi…, rocking my elbows and hurting myself
moving in rare pleasant crypt upon crypts disconsolate stones
not so far away..., keys held in the eighth cemetery...
Who is to open the heavy door now...?
I come from Messolonghi 555 km in linear figures to Patmos...,
narrowing concave… doubtful in extension, passion princess cloud
He must welcome me benevolently in the night nymph consort...
Limbus N cloud, Cloud Cemetery lofty lofty hypogeum
soul of Limbo, before seeing the nut that girds the face in the graceful Grim Reaper resurrecting restless…, sinning… grail sacrament without Being or being…?
Necropolis Cloud, expectant mortuary technology...
amaze me if there is a byte for me...
narrow conscience, unseemly to amaze me?

Here the lost mist of the Nothofagus God phoneme-photon vanishes with divine mass light to build the Áullos Kósmos. The Sacrament of Limbus will provide spaces and assemblages of meters for thousands of areas of infamous wandering the Ouranos, approaching the Áullos Kósmos to host him and rescue the children of the meter that was missing in the numeral rule of the Megaron acroteria before going up to the Necropolis Cloud. Vernarth, mere body formalizing principle...
extinct delicate evocation of the shadow of Elpenor;
Achaean warrior of Ulysses grandiloquent who even has otitis
and verse where flu spreads influenza
heartbreak from far away reverberating in the elite of lexicons…
arriving equidistant ... the last one arrives threatening with his Kantabroi staying neither divided nor captured, taking refuge in outright failure twilight of megahertz, farce propaganda surrendered fear will not fall even after …

Vernarth falls from the Koumeterium Mesolonghi in the Necropolis cloud privileging his status, he falls from this gloomy digital platform with a high alcoholic degree! from the high heaven after drinking hours he came in the carriage that was from Zilos, with the passion of heaven depriving his understanding stunned on some branches of will of Ziziphus…, stunned on branches of mercy….

Vernarth in a contrite accident with Elpenor, his psyche flies to the realm of the dead, Hades was remaining prisoner in that world taking the form of a Homeric icon or shadow. Vernarth was asleep after his binge, and Elpenor asks him if he wanted to join him with some concoctions. He was with blurred vision, a headache, and still lying down. But in the passionate horror of his drunkenness, he gets up quickly, saying to Elpenor: For me, it was one less pain to drink after having fallen from such a distance without being able to request and have had the grace of my mother's lullaby. For this reason, I hug you! They went together to the Cloud Necropolis to continue in the Limbus trying to alternate their physical body to gaseous liquid. At that moment Eurídice hits her with a piece of wood on her legs so that she wakes up from the bite of that nightmare that overwhelmed her to finally be able to wake up. Raeder had gone with Petrobus to Skalá to seek inputs of gnosis and his own inspiration for accents before the welcome in Katapausis to come in the blink of an eye of San Juan, necessary redaction for licenses and to be admitted to his library.

Prophecy VI - “Third, Rethymnon City and State”

“Vernarth heard the sound of a bouzouki, spoke of a 40-day fast that Greece celebrates before Easter, at the Rethymnon carnival they come from all over Greece to attend as a family during the week with animations, evenings and concerts, dances…theatre, floats with Venetian art in the picturesque old town and modern city, in this ancient city …

Rethymnon Political Ellipsis

“Like territorial extension, past-future organized infamous scene…Vernarth imagines being with Etréstles in immediate predictions
with years and thousands…, clan hobbies, Rethymnon manuscript…
while he thus deliberated…, thus rejoicing in the immaculate extramural grotto thus being as if it were comparable to a Neolithic village; being together lost with eagerness to appear from political power... palaces, kings, pro-organized religions..., rancorous superlative temple, priestly-eucharistic, nationalized sovereign citizen... commanding Parliament of the Hellenic politai people
the competent anti-value entity of the substratum political state…
sedentary-agricultural or nomadic-livestock culture…, vertical Hoplite culture!”

In Thessaloniki street, he would meet his brother head-on...Imagining how he would be...? Well-dressed-shiny, he would be in a passing tavern usually naming himself tradition and terms of questionable validity rather than those of a retro-linguistic family, in the remarkable urban-city dialogue called seditious inns with networks of political territorial extension, reaching the colossal size of multinational ideals of a complex stratification, social meeting place, future ministries to whom to delegate?. They would arrive at the tavern in Rethymnon in Crete, they order coffee, biscuits, and Mosaikó chocolates. In an unexpected moment, he suddenly wakes up from this deep, hallucinating, and futuristic imagination! His brother appears immediately, not in Rethymnon but in Katapausis with the goddess Lepidoptera!

End Ellipsis Rethymnon

“At the moment his imagination breaks just when they were preparing to toast… Etréstles in this same interval appear in Katapausis Reader and Petrobus coming in a singular pilgrimage from Skalá…this is how the syllabic song of the arcane ***** is heard emitting from the grotto…, yellow lights and saffron…. Saint John and the Gospel celebrating the Eucharist…Vernarth would believe for the first time that the hermit would come, but No…!
his brother was to be in the intervening yellow-white light
in front of him nothing more than Etréstles visiting him”

Likewise, they would no longer be in Rethymnon,
but the carnival would already begin in the region of Patmos...
eating delicacies, and the Sousta towards the circle of the Sun in the hands…They have been two months with the sweetened Moon and the Sun posing its mass of light in her… soft palm next to her waiting for him in the proximity of a Hebrew silence

Estretles says Khaire Vernarth! from Piacenza who did not see your joyous lux! I can see now to the sound of yourself the stoic zither...
countenance light, the orbit of your eyes, pale asthenia without photon without light, expectorant suppuration of your sacred Lynothorax, Absent in front of the long and fatal transverse lapse!
Raeder makes a speech to Zeus Photon Child Lux
Fulminant spends time where it remains greater than the minimum...
Patmos is the time of the Messiah…, retrograde years…
polis Helennic city-states.

Culture-state… state time chorus in tune
Philosophical poetic-epic Olympian Aiónius global leader
Homeric poems..., Raeder I am..., a naughty Politai...
you Vernarth are Politai Hetairoi militia
candy wasted by me Raeder… sweetened in my memory
polytheistic, cultured and declined…
theocratic referendum or democratic right,
Exciting porridge of my Kourabiedes cookies
butter, icing sugar, flour, eggs from the icy cliff
vanilla or Mastica resin, ***, Ouzo, mastica liquor…
or other alcoholic beverages…, which bubble on the underside of Aiónius soaked in my mouth with water from petal buds
coated for you with sugar on the tip of my tongue…
reflective cops in a wonderful dialogue of a tasty recipe...
It's time for everyone else to snack too!!

In that second Raerder was choking on a Kourabiede biscuit,
but there was the guardian of the Petrobus who piloted the
throwing hieratic water on the inside of his mouth,
forcing him to take heart from the buttress of his speech
shooing thick crumbs from his skinny dialogue spitted...
Gerakis, ray, tabletop oak bull, scepter for those who rule with him and not...My Zeus friend I invite you to play marbles,
I invite you to tell us that we are friends...
we're both fine… only Space-separated us…?

Raeder runs towards Zeus' thunderbolt from his right hand.
he jumps up and takes it from her, in exchange for this she gives him his marbles...The entire earth tilts over the Aegean..., the earth's axis tilts eight degrees, altering the cerebrospinal fluid of the Hellenic geopolitical conception..., with Zeus poly infarcted over descending magnitudes of inter-politics, millennia and headless governments...

“Apokalypsis lightning restarted, emerged from a New World”
Prophecy VII -. “Second, Alikanto Aion, Quantum”
"Kalymnos, golden tetra steed Alikanto was grazing under the metallic moon...
transiting its quantum physics…, golden legs…, four golden domes
the super host being in Apoika Andros next to the villagers,
commemorating troupe and advent…, Heraklion next period
celebrant anniversary, progeny bearer of Kanti Cretense,
close cycles of the sacred fire, domestic environment, and private zeal...
funerary hidden cult… streets in the hieratic family dwelling
fertile women… totalized and lustful ****…
productive longevity and harvests…, family Apoika
next successor belligerence…, funerary plexus…
culty predecessor…, treatise and imprecation of law, theme and legible religion domestic scene, family civic servant ceremony

Goddess Hestia austere, head with eight sacred candles dressed
Olympus lacking without gods…, only Goddesses embargo!
Feminine Hestia Domestic Goddess, an emanation of the female oval to ovulating…Pritaneo, the central decree of the political harvests… foreign exchange grains to be minted monetary stock exchange of Athens… Pritaneo ford on the rise, ford on increase Aion... hesitant dart swoop into eternity,
Alikanto Perpetual Aion…Speaks with both hands
synchronized and tilted tongue…
stutters and swallows, in six paranasal sinuses
saturated with fiery saliva..., and an Internal voice saying say...
what makes sense to feel and what does not turn off...
sleeping waves in the poison of love igniting
intra-Vernarth love…, billing infected holy blood
methodical coupled time…, Gaugamela the bronze extremity,
of a lost leader…, won leader!

If I had to run to rewrite retro Adhoc poems and chosen trova,
With a shy Trojan verse, I would dare today if I kissed her in front of me… she!
she would jump from the hyperesthetic-Ouranos…, inhuman to the Aion world
aurora celestina, bleeds big and defiant today in your star
In herself Ella…, pestiferous condemnation sweetness and aura between her…she just be, she herself be supported be…, Oh… Goddess Hestia on your opposite leg unbraced arm, meadow and vein braid… assaulted by lost and thirsty love written everything if she tempts…, everything wields darkly if it took you to our Olympus… at night loving you whole..., emptying everything with no inappropriate hand singing don vine fissure and intimate company, may it be exterminated... passion outside with nailed stake..., iron embedding..., nails wounding...exhausted supra lips supra yours…, mid sand writing full to her…
tip of my Xiphos… blood made written with written maiden mythology,
letter sword Spatha…, cyclamen balm made whole if I had you!

“To the loves of the world I say…, cover your ears fungus of boredom, your torn ears squander ignoring more than sordid saying...my blood kills, my blood revives! I **** my blood and I **** everyone, with your blood scattered, ***** blood scattered…!
do not leave me alone until nightfall… I only ask for holy water,
emptied from your mouth goddess Hestia who flies tons over me...
I only ask for a spatha romantic blood sharp, ******, and scattered...
to write to the love wars that I have lost...
to the wars of love that I have won, slicing the jugular of the
treacherous and wicked emperor"

“… Alikantus, he remembered the Hoplite commander in Gaugamela, he remembered when he dodged arrows with his head so that they would not hit his body or his pectoral. From such a present moment falling by surrendering to the evocation of him. He goes down to a stream and confines himself to the vanity quagmire, continues on his path reaching a suspicious lagoon, drinks sacred water, drinking again manages to perceive the effigy of Vernarth in the mirror of Aion's Hydor... calling him from Patmos! Law reminded his master how he died for everyone in the world just as the world would not let him bring more than agonizing for him because there was no more space said Aionius ... "

Alikantus then clenched his jaws too hard, falling out all his molars, he asked the Gods in front of Hestia to restore them fifteen days before arriving at the Ekadashi in Patmos where his master, thus loving all the lives of the world, as well as the hidden cries behind the Dypilons hiding the power of God… or laugh at gagged iris flashes and mummified sighs with lives that subsist!

Vernarth from Patmos called to him so that his eyes looked invigorated like the swarms of green and gray vanadium fire, of mood in the predictive table and close prediction. AlIkantus bids farewell to Kalymnos spraying sorrel and hyper-odoriferous flowers of the Apoika in Kalymnos loving from above, very close, flying, loving everything so much that he forgot to fly. He sometimes fell hard but recovered retried as a baby steed in the womb of a mother new species to be born again in Apoika!


Prophecy VIII -  "First of Aionius, "Eleusis Prophecy of Hamor"
“Aiónius received news of Hamor's prophecy; cosmic orgiastic order
tyrannical snake victim throwing herself into her abyss and purpose..., banishment as an objective void to be decreed, even so ending the world from another world,
discontinuous terse march, slurred arpeggio, speech by Aiónius
there is no world left but if extermination…, undone threshold…, provoke in delicate chaos…!

As a child, I ran to the supreme world herding lions... I called them and they ran to me..., they came alone, some didn't...! Being young, one day Aionius went to the farm and counted the lions... Some came others No... Aionius..., in such a hamorio he was locking an earring from his ears, he hung them again, which happened the next day relaxed..., he saw a maiden who laughed hypnotized…, he sighed when she turned around saying with her poor gestures… Destroy it! The afflicted turned away not knowing what was coming… destroying the desolate world vilifying silky physiognomies, chipped and dandruff face slipping from yours being captive and arid…, tempts to flow libertarian imprint in foreign praxis, origin, and end,
me from the slime being born in my eighth life in nothingness ataxia…

The beloved Victim surrounded by snakes moved the stump of her arms
eaten away by the serpent that took refuge in thorns of forged steel...
she kept walking…, Aiónius pointed at her and kissed her gestures escaping frightened towards the valley in farewells... not fitting itself in valleys that were never anything she paraded with the current of her last word, the beloved again moved her arms following her in front of her the beast was on her, Aiónius buried from fleeing and coming… with fiery phenotype, abrupt vocabulary, says: “Strapping and interludes, after beings of impiety, the world of impiety, Hamor of the first wit… towards other refuges I will depart about a Yes devouring bare ring on it…”
escape curve that cuts the pelvis of my beloved
destructive be your curved world that before had to destroy me...
ultra pre-hellenic nymph Harpé passion spread on me…
Hailed libertarian praise, aristocratic vermilion accent, minority ruling? Overwhelming rigor expended, prophetic Hamor, prophetic expansive arsenal! It must come from all the supreme worlds with strokes and silhouettes conquering...true dream, confused hypothetical oscillate sweeping imploring and contracting popular decision, management and space of my Sickle…, sometimes uncontained… worse avenues in its radius and dark mourning badly wounded shadow! The vertex that finally launches opens the dawn and his Hamada flees... Leaving with the untidy serpent, about touching and causing rangers in the stuck earth.

Demeter and Persephone; based on Eleusis in ancient Greece
mystery myth of the abduction of Persephone daughter of Demeter…
by the king of the underworld of Hades, Abrahamanica's offspring
cabal, life in the descent, the search and the ascent…
Ascent of Indra lightning Vahana and lightning from her right eye,
Persephone to the reunion with her beloved daughter ascending.

Zodiac and mysteries involved, visions and sleight of hand
that of an afterlife, rain of seven trunks, long-lived Airavata
elephant, Eleusis jump psychedelic mystery, incision, and coherent rites, ceremonies and experiences of cold winters and life on earth
plants in gestation under the gift of Elitíaen and beings that
they are about to germinate and be born, beings in a chain of genes...
vegetable running on the earth, vegetable in March in its glory
September in the jaws of the purified phrase and inaccurate acropolis I…

Sacred obscenities, deadly tributes with the death penalty...,
wandering nights without clothes with obese and badly fragrant meats point and taco dances praising the harvest in honor of a dead Thracian bull, libating priestly vessels and bullfighting heads in a deliberately defined and improper triweekly ritual, revealed in Demeter and Persephone.

Only Hamor in his venerable pyx lies locked up knowing he is unable to open inside this lustful bewitching sparkles, the mystery of emancipated disenchantment that awakens from his slow consciousness without knowing how to go on passing in the sum of all happenings of Aiónius. ”

This is how he defined himself from the syncretism of Indra and the mystery of Eleusis, from Demeter and his daughter Persephone from the vile kidnapped underworld. Of the divine Goddess Elitia and the annual records of children born within a year in the germinating seed of the mystery of love that would begin with this prophecy with the initial "H" of the underworld exclaimed Hades and Greek heritage in this event. Vernarth and his companions listened to this prophecy, almost falling asleep, it seemed to them sweet pallor-bitter, love-heartbreak in the previous day before diagnosing having a presence in the hermitage of San Juan Apóstol for the superior company of a later day that was approaching as the greatest daring of all up in the mountains while disposing of Vernarth's Apologist obverse of Aiónius's.

Epilogue Prophecies - “Eleusis, Isadora Duncan to the Parthenon”

“Vernarth and Eurydice indulged in the jargon of agitated diasporas
of inhabitants fleeing the Rite of Eleusis, crossed hands and feet
They dueled on olive trunks with Theban thunder, vague Insurrection of the ancient world, and consonants of barbarian Pleiades,
acclaiming predilection of the Eremita San Juan to appear...
in a breath of peace resurfacing... but seeing that Vernarth was accompanied of Eurydice hid in front of them leaving only her aura near from the stream of a chrysalis!
In the dizzying succession of myths, good news reaches her sacred ears, waking up her trend and her high quarterly price outside the walls... being later received in the grotto of the hermitage in growing expectation and a link of longing that weaves to remind him of being a crusade piece.

The kidnapping of his reverie feared and timid frivolous crushing blizzard, he was walking surrounded by Falangists on horseback pointing at him and threatening him, scrutinizing in the distance loneliness of his past lives,
his regressive life, concerning key to origins of his illustrative Existence, stranded at this moment..., Vernarth makes a pact with himself to detach himself..., of his spirit, detach from their lives under a hypnotic and compelling law..., like a suspended index in the Sistine Chapel, homologous ship Ave Maria Messiah!

From Eleusis Vernarth vanished in aerial horse-dreaming,
he crossed through the pavilions with himself persevering some wake
riding his Alikantus ******* and standing with him to pillage the Empyrium niche Persephone's trace of herself and her ******* ******* them...
with devoted passion, milky way, and milky syrup chin howling...
Vanishing dancer, Athenian acropolis, Dionysian sanctuary of the acropolis… Stepdaughter-patron in the dance of Zeus and Themis lopsided frame of the season's wildness of all creation and defiance of Eleusis looking for her daughter and her children, priestesses safely taking off their corset and their pictures…
raging chastity, oligo blood, Itheoi music, outraged dance complaining, Possessed expressing being seductive but also a native *******... the underworld in darkness, free daughter, and iconoclastic Greek mythologist
inconvenient Victorian mania, a courtesan from Olympus, courtesan undressed! Isadora, Demeter, and Persephone… flooded with Aphrodite foam!

She “prayed songs with plexus and feet, plotting gardens around the world… full of baseboard feet where everything created in brief Apokálypsis was dying! By desolate Parthenons dancing in Muscovite ruins, maenades sweaty enclave and also throwing back his head as if possessed by ecstasy in her Bugatti and Leonidas…, enchanted by Aiónius! intoxicated and exorbitant with beautiful rosy placebo eyes... Hair with headbands vine petioles, her Nebris tight skin was wearing... in her hand's bunches of barberries to Dionysus with torches and live snakes a chaste crook naming Thirsus; rod topped with Kashmar branches wrapped in borders, vines and ivy, allusive link…, morbid ecosystem! covering her crotch in the Temple of her Kopanos dancing from the eternal fire cremated and in a romantic dimension remembering Byron's meritorious…
Hellenic passionate, and of Hölderlin poeticizing together with Aiónius.

Rudiment wound … ruinous on value exciting in those
of the imagined and creative in her perdition, Sicalipsis e impudicias
torn fire in the Metelmi and her ***** we are twisted,
epic worthy of greek tragedy dancing like waves of fire
in the forge in terrifying death of her children Deirdre and Patrick,
submerged and injured in the Seine in Paris in 1913, falling into the
water in the car that was traveling with her wet nurse… before…!
saying goodbye to them in urgent social commitments,
I Aiónius take you to the Empyrium.

What a dire tribulation in the prevailing misfortunes by not postponing it, retain the fate of whose children is quite a story with the kidnapping of theirs and merits of fulfilling commitments committed to solicitous artists... support, crestfallen inside a dresser or Bolshoi dancing statue, dancing empty with bare feet, frigid anemone, frigid Sea…

Arriving at the dawn of her last prophecy, Isadora Duncan accompanies her in full life beyond all limiting borders with the borders of her dance, the flat field of Eleusis receives her presumptuously associating in around for the dressings...
And left-handed dalliance self-indulging…, advanced barefoot to the Parthenon…!naked towards the world and the orb dug out of her before her undressed.

Reader and Petrobus jumped on this steep stone, emulating the meteorites that shone in the sky of Patmos such a party of nocturnal lights, such emery detached from a fleeting planet in the largest Hellenic scene saying: "Well-being to the Hellenic World all calm, dance and immunity to the firmament where Isidora rests in the Kantabroi of Aionius”
Prophecies of Aiónius
Erin Dec 2013
You're here.

We don't talk,
but I'm quietly watching you,
so when you make eye contact shyly
it's easy to know what we are doing.

You approach me,
sanitizing wipe, Band-Aid, and mic
(complete with wires)
and peel the plastic.

Swab my cheek gently,
and I smell the alcohol
but it's a pleasant
smell now.

Put the mic over my ear,
position it against the side of my face,
tape the Band-Aid to my cheek,
fingers brushing my skin.

You send the wire down my dress,
pull up my skirt and reach up for the end,
soft fingers lightly skimming over my back.
Adjust the mic in its belt, and lower the fabric.

Tell me in your sweet voice:
"Look right"
I do, "oh, hair", you say, and I pull
my ponytail out of your way,
thinking of your soft short hair.

Then, "Look straight"
and as I do, and you tape the mic tape
against my neck, I'm thinking
"I do."

Backstage I think to myself
that you haven't done anyone else's mics,
and this makes me feel good.

I know later I'll be watching for you
to be free, so I can feel your hands
near me, watch your eyes rimmed
with liner as they study the mic
hooked to my face.


Crouching slightly as you are up
on tip-toes, and we can communicate
silently once more.
December 8, 2013 /itsjusterin
.how does one spell theatre terms
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2013
always woke up with nothing to say to her
not a thing.

we slept in rooms separate,
but she would bust in on me,
occasionally, to have an occasion,
never knocking, just door pounding,
just to annoy, just to see
if I still cared, hoping to revoke
what passed for pseudo-serenity.

some times entireties
would pass
before you had the energies
to swing
your legs over the
side of the day~bed,
conceding, white flag surrendering,
losing the commencing-avoidance of
the start-of-the-day battle of
pseudo-existence.

hoping against hope
you don't meet,
hoping against hope
she doesn't say accidentally,
good morning.

so you don't have to
Lincoln~Douglas debate,
aerate, concentrate, orate,
how to answer without bitterness
intended to maim.

knowing you could not e'er possess
a good morning, day, night,
by definition, by ruling of the
gods in charge of never.

sometimes you made it out
of the apartment that had
no ingress,
only egress,
happy happy no converse.

used to go to a Barnes & Noble,
get a refillable endless Starbucks,
from open to closing.
read all day, sitting with strangers,
till my **** hurt so bad,
didn't think I could walk again.

now and then,
smiled at the ladies,
tho nothing could come of it,
nothing ever did.

she never asked me
where I egressed too.
didn't care, that was better
for sanitizing my pseudo-sanity.

came home cautiously,
door opening silently
in case I was home prematurely,
she still there.

sometimes you wake up with nothing to say
to yourself.
that is even worse,
cause the meaning clear,
breaking point is near.

have a picture of me from those days.
a cellphone photo I took myself,
of course.
serious, bearded, short haired,
red eyed, unfiltered.

Sometimes I think I will banner it,
so you can tap into a part of me
that words just cannot do injustice to,
more than was already done.

here, while composing,
I fell asleep.
tired?

maybe.  maybe,
sometimes you just don't want to remember.
Andreas Simic Jun 2022
The poem below is a satirical piece

Written by a poet with too much time on his hands

Coviditis is something created purely as an entertainment piece
Caution is advised to those that do not have a sense of humor

Coviditis is a condition brought on during a pandemic due to prolonged use of mask wearing, social distancing, constant hand washing or sanitizing, testing, self or other, as well as self-isolating, shutdowns, travel restrictions, vaccine shortages, vaccine line ups, vaccine hesitancy and antivaccers.

For those with children locked out from attending school and suddenly becoming teachers at large there maybe additional conditions of the ailment

Symptoms that you may have Coviditis include but are not limited to:

Feeling pent up and wanting to visit family and friends

High stress levels, we recommend home blood pressure kits for self-testing

The urge to put a strangle hold on children or small animals

Temper tantrums like when you were a two year old

Wanting to work from home  to become a hermit and take up hoarding as a hobby

Binge watching reruns of “I Love Lucy”

For those on the edge this could lead to episodes of “Divorce Court”

Exceeding speed limits including road rage and road racing in parking lots

The need to station yourself near hospitals with your protest poster at the ready

Clock watching while waiting anxiously for the pandemic to be over

Treatments
Generally speaking a return to normal is the  best cure for Coviditis
When this is not available we suggest getting normal amounts of rest

Reduce alcohol and leisure drug use (unless prescribed by a health care professional)

Counting to 100 when the urge comes to place choke holds on others

Reduce speeds especially in school zones, truckers should avoid borders or capitals

Take up yoga, Tai Chi or complete regular exercise to offset stuffing feelings with food

Constant hugging of spouses, children, parents, through fist pumps is recommended

Hugging complete strangers in desperation is a no, no

If conditions become worse we recommend zooming
your family physician, Psychologist, Psychiatrist or
Podiatrist, as you may need a good pair of shoes when you want to run away

Also have a travel agent on speed dial, booking two years in advance for you next trip  may make you feel better and lead to something called “hope”

In extreme situations visit the emergency department at the hospital

Please note do not feed the pigeons or the protestors on your way in

Andreas Simic©
Provoked to put some sort of thick concrete in my mouth.
All my teeth are now stuck together
as I tongue around to try and pick the glue off.
they teeter and totter on their last gum strings.
heavier now due to the concrete.
In My dream A girl says: "I know I am a sewing machine."
When I wake up, I realize she meant Piano.

I dreamed the man who glued my teeth together
looked like Biff from back to the future.
and was my brother.
and was an *******.
When I woke up
I had to Google "bully from Back to the future"
so i could write it in this poem.
because I forgot his name.
I'm bad at names.

I dreamt not having the money to go to the dentist.
also Not having time to go see the dentist.
I didn't have to dream very hard.
I'm really broke right now.

My teeth go numb and pop off their strings.
my gums are stacked cubes of honey combs
They too fall out one by one
like single falling Tetris pieces

Girl says: "What would I do If I couldn't sew?"
"I'd be nothing!"
In the dream, She still hasn't realized she's a piano
I think: "What would I do if i couldn't sing?
Couldn't Write.
Breathe."

One day I knew exactly what it was like not to breathe.
a few times, I knew exactly what it was like not to sing too.

This dream felt a lot like that.

I dreamt the life of a liquid diet.
Denchers sitting in off-yellow sanitizing containers on a porcelain sink
This other older woman, who is clearly supposed to represent my mother.
looks at me with "I told you so, Eyes"
I think she's here so I can't find any comfort in my dream.
She knows this has to be a nightmare.
If I see my real mother, I'll get some comfort.
so instead I see this slum queen who looks down and says:
"go to bed sweetie, we'll call the doctor in the morning."
as flies buzz around her filthy Hutt body
as I catch my last block of honey comb gum from my mouth.
My teeth spill, Tumbling out of my hands.

I woke up in the middle of the night terrified
Feeling at my gums.
Because Biff snuck concrete into my mouth as I was sleeping.
When my eyes opened, I reached for pen and paper.
As I wrote down my dream
My First thought was: she wouldn't be a sewing machine, she'd be a piano.

Even though I was alone.
You were my first Thought.
I didn't even notice if I had any teeth.

The doctor Told Her She couldn't play an instrument for awhile.
She sent a picture doing it anyway.
because it made her happy.
see, in the real world, She knew she was a Piano.
I wonder if she had nightmares of teeth falling out
Of keys falling from a piano one by one
Ivory rectangles plunking,
Tap
against the black and white checkered tile floor of a diner.
Where we share The worlds scariest Beautiful nightmare: Life.

We get brunch
There are Pancakes
scrambled eggs.
I told-you-so's
Going to the doctor
being fairly broke.
Waking up terrified
but always with each other.
whether we're really there or not.
Playing a piano that's missing a few teeth.
Even though the doctor said not too
Even though it doesn't sound so good anymore with the missing notes.
Playing because it makes us happy to run our fingers over the old ivory.

this is a world we don't visit.
whenever we think about it our teeth fall out.
Funny, I started writing about a nightmare
How you turned it into a poem.
A documentation of a nightmare I had that I turned into a poem because why not?
kaitlyn-marie Mar 2016
I’ll start out by saying that my parents don’t like us to label ourselves.
They don’t like us to share them either.

As a child it used to take me at least two hours to fall asleep.
Thoughts would race through my head like boxcars.
I would repeat what I was excited about the most
until my brain would get tired enough to let me rest.
Some doctors would call that insomnia, but that’s not what I had.

Since the age of six, I haven’t believed in god.
His existence always felt like a fairytale
that adults never grew out of.
Some people would call this atheism, but that’s not what I have.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been worried.
Every event in my day was cause for panic.
I would string them along like paper chains
with no rest in between.
Some doctors call that anxiety, but that’s not what I have.

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t pick at my skin.
I’ll rip off pieces until my skin gets mad
and bleeds red with anger.
Some doctors would call that dermatillomania, but that’s not what I have.

Since middle school, I’ve been afraid of germs.
I won’t touch my face without washing my hands first
which makes it take twice as long to put on makeup.
I can’t eat without sanitizing my hands
which makes people skeptical to get to know you better.
Some doctors would call that germaphobia, but that’s not what I have.

When I was fifteen my throat used to close up
every time I thought about death.
Sometimes you don’t realize you’re breathing until you’re gasping for air.
Some doctors call that a panic attack, but that’s not what I had.

I’ve been on antidepressants for three years
in order to calm down my brain
from running too many marathons.
My heart was never able to catch up.
Some doctors might say that this is because I was depressed.
But that’s not what I have.

My therapist told me…
— ****, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.

Somebody told me to come here today so that
I could be honest to myself and others
about the problems that don’t have names.
The words that I can’t say out loud.

I’m hoping with this discussion
I will someday be able to say that
I used to not be able to fall asleep for hours.
I used to not believe in god, I used to worry all the time.
That I no longer pick at my skin.
I’m no longer afraid of germs.
My throat used to close up,
and I’m no longer on antidepressants.

Because I have problems that can't be labelled.
paul julius Sep 2015
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Poetic T Apr 2020
Hi-** Hi-** it's sanitizing I go,
   With a pump and spray
    Killing covid 19 on my way

Hi-low Hi-low  I got a cough
Not going away,
Getting harder to breath.
  With a high temperature
   Its off to hospital I go...

Hi-low  Hi-low

Hi-low Hi-low  I'm here to stay
            Still feeling weak
  Harder to breath
But I'm social distancing
   More than I did.

Hi-low Hi-low no gloves on as
it doesn't protect as you,
more germs
   Collecting than you know.

Hi-low Hi-low

So many passing away,
  Doctors, medics
Normal people in every
   Walk of life,
I cried as I felt Hi-low

Hi-low Hi-low it's the way we go,
We have our high days and
Then lows..
When we just  want it over,
lock down h ere to stay,
but were alive and the peak is low.
Claudius Apr 2020
My Kryptonite,

A month has never before felt like a year.
30 days of breakdowns and sanitizing my tears
A month alone-
Quarantined from everything but my thoughts of you

Just one day is what I crave
24 hours of bliss that bring me back from the disassociation of the everyday
I know I shouldn't risk life for a day with you
Yet the temptation grows as fast as COVID does

Tell me it's wrong
That I should keep us both safe
Remind me of the cost even if it hurts me to hear
Remind me that 30 days is nothing compared to a life without you.

Day 30 and I want to risk it all.
For the person I didn't realize I had feelings for until I was lockdown away from them and all I want to do is be there with them and scream how much I want to be with them.
Anonymous Freak Feb 2019
The ugly Monster energy hoodie
She wears every day,
Her hair swept back in a greasy mess,
A knife with a mushy handle
That was left in the sanitizing water too long
In hand
As she gingerly dices lettuce.
She always gets quiet when she criticizes me.
I’m just trying to earn my minimum wage,
But she had a bad day at home,
So she’ll find fault in whatever I’m doing.

Go home and fall asleep,
It’s only 10am,
My sheets are fresh,
And my clothes aren’t.
Then he calls me and tells me to wake up.

The kitchen has miniature milky ways
floating around in the sunlight dripping from the windows,
It smells like dinner from yesterday
And alspice.
My mother is still wearing her maroon bathrobe,
Her hair is a tangled halo framing her face in imperfect curls,
She’s sorting the spices.
She doesn’t understand why I’m unable to keep up with her busy chatter.

It’s a habit to repeat what I must do to stay alive to myself,
As if I’m both child and mother, giving a list of instructions and dragging my feet to follow.
“Brush your teeth,”
“Wash your face,”
“Take a shower,”
“You haven’t eaten yet today,”
“Do laundry,”
“Go to sleep,”
“Talk to your friends,”
“Pay your bills,”
“Go to work,”
“Wake up,”
“Don’t go back to sleep,”
“Drink water,”
“No alcohol before 5pm.”
Keep going.
Somehow, keep going.

My evenings are spent
With my hands tenderly ******* the long neck
Of a beer bottle.
My lips pursed,
Kissing the brim
And savoring every golden drop.
I try to distract myself from the absence of company,
Tell myself I like to be alone.

I go to sleep alone,
I try to fill up
The part of my bed he should be in,
And not think about it.
The cotton covers wrapped around me
Mummifying myself
In mindless sleep.

4:45am alarm,
And it all starts again.
the mainstream media feeds us
a lot of clap trap
it rarely reports the other side
of the news flap

we're drawn in by what is supposed
to be the story proper
yet there is independent
coverage on offer

mainstream media and governments
are in constant cahoots
to get to the nub of the story
the public should untangle their roots

it has been shown time and again
that we're been lead up the wrong story vein

so much of the truth is diluted
by the big media men
as they are so accommodating
of those policy making men

the facts are not always presented
in an accurate or exact way
regularly the state of the situation
is buried tidily away

the big media organizations
are our eyes and ears
to the world's happenings
but we the world community
would certainly like less of our news
undergoing all the sanitizing

linkages of media to government
do indeed exist
this ever so cozy arrangement
reports but only this combinations twist

independent news is there to give us balance
to the stories that are out there
the angels that it depicts give equilibrium
to the mainstreams daily fair
From going out
I have to refrain
Terrified by the passing by
Corona thunder and
Pandemic rain,
Oddly defying science,
A chimera,
Looming large
Again and again.

I have begun
To pine
For old me
Freely out to
The neighborhood
And street
Somebody to meet
Somebody to greet.

After  Covid-19's
Shock treatment,
My reservation
I admit
In being picky
When choosing people
I used to meet.

"Love your friend
As yourself
As God said
It has dawned on me
In humanity's treasure trove
Should  come peoples' love
Of course all things atop
Must be placed
In-God-vested hope.(Mark 12: 30-31)


My behavior spiraling
Out of control
A feeble and complacent
Human being
I stretched my imagination
As if God
Has secondary or no role.
As such,
Earthly pursuit
Was my goal.
Now, as King David said, (plasm 122:1)
I reflect
Going to church,
Uplifting soul, allows
With God keeping
In touch.
It has also sank in
Brushing shoulders
With collogues
Was enthusing
Aloof, on my chair
Before I perch,
At times to do
Reading research.

I realized the money
I used to stash away
To make hay,
While others were starving
And when I could become
People hungry
Had no meaning.

I want to see
The broadmass
No more afraid
Out, on their table
To put bread!

I pined my liberty of
To and fro
Breathing oxygen free
Before the
Corona lockdown decree.

I want to project
My true face
Forced not on
My lovely face
A mask to place.

With a square shoulder
I want to walk
No more ringing
In my ear
The pandemic talk.
I want to rove the land
And fly on the sky
To feast my eyes
On touristic spots
Or goods to buy,
May God allow me
Such things again
Before I die!
I  also pine to see
The day
Undertakers are
No longer in a hurry
Fellow citizens
To bury.

I pray for
God's Mercy
Gramercy!

But now  
Keeping social distance
Washings hands with soap
Putting on face mask
And sanitizing is
What I advance.
True to Jesus's parable if a Shepard who had 100 sheep missed one, he will worry more about the one he lost. I missed people--friends, neighbors ,colleagues and fellow citizens
jeffrey robin Jun 2014
(

    )

(                                                    
•                          
)          
                                                                )
                                                 •
                            (

& are you too here ?

••

Nakedly

She offs her egotism and puts on her salvation



He  strips off his bemusement
&
Cloying mannerisms
&
Glimpses reality



&          &           &

?    ?



We are such fools that
Took pure simplicity

For a ride

--

Out to the killing fields

Of
Gross  ungodly capitalism

••

Why do we live here ?

Why don't we just die ?



( an aside )
I THINK I UNDERSTAND THIS CUTTING **** NOW

WE     DO   WANT TO DIE!

We just lie about the reasons

COME ON NOW  !  Fess up !!!



We are so demeaned
By this godless sanitizing
Of the psychopathic
acts of hatred

•        •

Hatred of the holy
& and of all creation

••

(A question )

A QUESTION

Do any of you actually live here ?

In **** hole AMERICA ?

Amongst these liars
Thieves & killers ?

I'D REALLY LIKE TO KNOW
WHAT YOU ARE REALLY DOING
WITH YOUR LIVES

••

In the mindfulness
Of
Our mindlessness

I see

Very little going on one might call

LIFE



I'll be your ROMEO
You can be my JULIET

But just don't do this ******* suicide crap
at the end !

Alright?

••  ••

I'll meet you on the open road

Going to the sanctuary

In the hills

••

We'll decide what to do when we get there

Alright ?

ALRIGHT !
Matt Walls Mar 2022
Covid here, covid there
Wear your mask, I just don't care
Keep your distance, it's on the rise
Wash your hands and sanitise!

Stay at home, don't go to work
It's harder there, it's not a perk
Learn 'Teams' and work from just one room
All meetings now done are done on 'Zoom'!

Rule of six outside is costly
Not so nice when it is frosty
Shopping now can be a bind
For things you cannot seem to find

At first a lull and then the panic
The crowds, the queues it all went manic
We're just like sheep and the other souls
We all stocked up on toilet rolls

Stocks of pasta and flour soon fell
Then a rush on sanitizing gel
'R' number rose, we had a part to play
So cleared the shelves of cleaning spray

Months soon past with rules for the nation
We were told to stay in isolation
Car won't start but must get wages
Battery gone flat not moved for ages

Almost a year and it's been a while
There's hope ahead with a vaccine trial
We yearn for Christmas, restriction free
Oh hang on no, we're in tier three!

With restrictions lifted for a three day slot
Three families can meet or maybe not?
So meet your family, it will be so good
But only you know if you should

Covid confusion for a whole year
Not sure if it will bring much cheer
We must stay strong and do our bit
You'll find life's just what you make it

Christmas cancelled, they've made the call
You cannot meet anyone at all!
In tier four but still alive
No hold on now, you are in tier 5

So stay at home for the second time
The walls are closing you might have climbed
But hope is coming from multiple labs
And millions of vaccination jabs

It's all we've got from the medical pages
We pray it works as the virus rages
We've got it good, food heat and health
That's all for now, take care of yourself

The 'R' rate now is up to nine
They said past one was the end of the line
But we're still trucking, I do my best
To keep on smiling like all the rest

When back at work, things started slow
When will it stop, I do  not know
We all wear masks to build resistance
And two meters apart to keep our distance

Compulsory masks have stopped at last
Many still wear them like in the past
We hope we can live with it in our community
And rely on people's herd immunity.

I've heard that there is good news at play
All restrictions have been lifted today
It's great that now we can lift the curse
And I can write the last and final verse !
John McDonnell Apr 2020
When I get out of quarantine
I’ll give away these ***** blue jeans,
I’ll wash my hair, I’ll drive somewhere,
I’ll breathe someone else’s air.
Oh what a happy day!
When I can put the games away.
I’ll go out to eat,
I’ll hug everyone I meet,
I’ll shake a stranger’s hand!
(I’ll do it because I can!)
No more six feet separation.
No more stinking isolation.
No more sanitizing
(That’ll be quite energizing!)
No more conference calls.
I’ll get away from these four walls.
I’ll be quite done with Zoom,
And sitting in my living room.
Let me make it clear, I’ll be outta here, I’ll throw away this screen!
When I get out, really out, when they finally, really, totally say --
I’m finished with this quarantine!
At least till next flu season.
Michael Kusi Nov 2017
America’s soil is seated on my speech.
And her breath flies  from my chest.
She reaches out to me with her two hands
That are lifted north and south
Hands that have my people’s  blood on them.
But the blood is black, not red.
America tried  to wash its hands.
But she forgot that I had the towel.
And I refused to throw it in.
I said to America  look at your hands.
You must see that you must do more than whitewash
You must stop sanitizing  and come clean.
Because if I give you the towel now
There will only be more blood
And this time it would be mine.
ConnectHook Mar 2020
Huddled in your castles like Prospero’s doomed revelers, sighing in the springtime of contagion, you evade and avoid the obvious. But the Muse has entered, unseen, and stands among you in her mask of elegiac splendor. She smiles as you mock her presence. She laughs quietly to herself as her influence wafts upon the very air, inspiring and infecting all concerned. You try to protect yourselves from the lyric epidemic, nonetheless her viral poetic molecules go forth, regroup, mutate, and attach themselves to the souls of her detractors. Her spores hang upon the very droplets of the mist, a suspended Parnassian miasma. The first tremors of poetic sickness begin to shudder deep within and among the most reluctant revelers. They try to dispel their fears; they brag and congratulate themselves, chattering about the uselessness of poetry, listing all they ways in which they have successfully barricaded themselves from her pestilential presence. But the Muse has entered and none can ensure her departure. Poetry will have her way and resistance is futile. Some will survive, but others will meet her as their avenging angel of the plague, and neither Egyptian magic nor sanitizing legerdemain shall deter the blossoming vector of her influence. Fear, oh unpoetic readers, this sudden lyrical acceleration, this verdant celebration:

               our poetic coronation.
Just an amusing little ditty for NaPoWriMo 2020

y'all come on over!    https://connecthook.net/
Patrick Kennon Sep 2019
Clutches of succulents in your breast pocket
Worn quietly, love lockets, jaw broken over the shoulder kiss
Loose tooth wiggling blood in your gum line chewing nicorette
Blow a bubble, blue button on your wrist
Gray mist pushes into lips and hits lung deep
Jump, leap, blind and hoping on a soft landing
Sanitizing cuts on your finger, linger on the last cigarette
Hope I have enough pocket change for the next pack
PANDEMIC

Panic.
All around the world.
Nobody allowed to go out.
Danger of catching the virus.
Emergency front line services working overtime.
Must wear masks everywhere.
Internet and Technology,
                                  To many a savior.
                                  Lots of zoom calls to pass the time.
City of Melbourne in lockdown
                                  Practicing social distancing &
                                  sanitizing your hands.
                                 -2020 a year that will not be forgotten.

© By HF-Whisper
11/8/2020 13:57PM
#CaronaVirus2019
Dedicated to all who have had a loss and suffered throughout it-in any way & have been through it.
Lyna Salman May 2020
As if the world is taking a break
From the plays that humans make
As something came without a name
Taking lives and lives to blame
Then they knew what it's called
Corona another heresy to fold
Panic struck and all rushed to store
Sanitizing what they used to ignore
Experts rushed to find a cure
To a downfall we can't endure
Everyone is tired hearing it's name
Aren't all viruses created the same!
Might be a power propaganda
Or a new political affairs agenda
Maybe God wants us to pray to stay
To know death might come anyway
Or the oppressed prayers are heard
And now the punishment is shared
So sanitize your hearts with love
And vaccinate your soul from above
Wear the gloves of peace and hope
The muzzle for hatred to stop
Quarantine yourself with care
Maybe God will notice this flare

∴ Lyna Salman
Jen Mar 2020
They step in to
The local grocery for
the weekly shop.
A soldier in a
Green apron stands
Bravely, sanitizing
And passing out
Carts.
Once inside,
The shelves are
Almost empty in spots.
Customers who once
Looked full of emotions
Now appear devoid of life,
Going through the motions.
You touched a surface?
Repeat, "Don't touch my face,"
"Don't touch my face."
Check out time is here at last,
Thought there would be
Longer lines but
Not many people are inside.
The cashier asks,
"Did you find everything you need?"
With a smile as if pretending
"It's business as usual."

One lady says at least she found
Paper plates which was a
Welcome surprise.
It's our turn, and we are
Told we have more than
The allowed amount of meat.
(We only have three small
packs of beef)
And explain we are a family
Cooking in this week.
The sky outside is rainy now,
Should be a tornado warning today,
But there's no telling when
The world will end
(It's easy to be 'in our heads')

Experts write about all
Possible scenarios & outcomes.
Human minds do what
Human minds do in these
Situations...
"Paper or plastic?"
Prophecy I "Eighth month of sailing in systemic fullness"

"As all our cycles will not haunt us
in other Laps from where the fine eye could have sewn the buttonholes on the shroud,
where there will be life and if there will be a short time without life ...
long time dragged by you where the sun is melted on the word being kept locked in your pocket to collect it blushing
Tomorrow jump without a declining yesterday ..., without a tomorrow to the heat of a bonfire ...
lamb bait groped being the portal of those who have been slapped inside your cheeks ... those who will not shorten the cycle that transcends all the oblong sepulchral vaults or those who abound in the nonsense of sanitizing ***** despot nights life having to measure in your flourishing mourning of the cleaner spray of its solid outline and announced outline of the new one that has been redrawn again being more than a brief syllable created again fertile in the biosphere mouth so as not to see you omnipresent vapor, meditating when you do not have and that dares to meditate on the future that It will have to be reserved for yourself by professing it when you are cold and insinuating, if in life followed by letters to flood, pondering as a paralyzed sleeping part that wants not to be covered with feigned heat and that it does not fit in all parts of me he wishes to be consul of some coat with all those who also sleep half dreaming in the company of the lost afternoon that never t he ends up serving Saint John here in Katapausis. ”


"What more reckless work of losing value,
I am already in Katapausis in the eighth month ...
I entered as light opening with my hand turned into light ...
already being a katapausis meaning sabbatismo.
quasi-unity method that exhibits cohesion to the resting motive
Levers of my hands of intra sabbaticals in The dissertation ...
it is exegetical and theological in nature to transpire soft sleepless light,
We are people who do not have to fear or air to deposit for a future warehouse
above the Sycamore or birds that guard all the Gold above my hands on the Sycamore ... "


"Stay in my house, otherwise I will be yours
stay in your house, it will be everyone's even in apocalypse ...
that more reckless will be silent as a work of losing value,
Katapausis is the threshold where my life enters and leaves at once,
stay in my house, otherwise I will be yours ...

Open windows, closing them meekly to that person confronted against you ...
He comes from a relativized den on reliefs in weathered beads ...
they will be soluble mineral beings agreed to move away from the farthest and closest to the least distant ..., from underground and underground siphon waters ... there we will all be floating ... like vertebrate invertebrate animals "

Vernarth, after not entering the grotto, not having found Saint John, goes abroad, where he is put into campaign three months before he can be received by God's law. Here he meets Raeder and his pelican, in addition to Eurydice.
PROPHECIES VERNARTH
Infamous one Aug 2021
L11
He stayed in the AC because the heat would get to him. He worked around people invisible use to being in the background behind the scenes. He wanted to be a lead but knew people talked and would undermine his authority. He didn't know what he was going to do or where he would end up but he was determined to make it. Listening to music wiping everything to keep others safe sanitizing everything that others had touched. Not use to the mask but still cleaning it up. He thought about family so much conflict he didn't feel like he belong but did worry and care about everyone. He would show no feelings or emotions to protect himself. The tough love from family made it hard to express himself. Talking to him like he didn't know or expecting him to be someone they remember but no longer that person anymore.
Salmabanu Hatim Apr 2020
Corona Virus has its own story,
It doesn't give a dime who you are,
Whether you are a monarch,
A president,
A Prime Minister,
Or a Religious Leader,
Wealthy or pauper,
Brown,black, white or yellow.
It cannot be stymied, suppressed or controlled,
It is unbeatable and winning,
Only a vaccine can put a stop to this reality,
And we are left to negotiate the terms,
By being hygienic,
Sanitizing,
Social distancing,
And Lockdown.
13/4/2020
Jay earnest Oct 2022
I'm a *** loser,
white ni**er,
Chardonnay drinking,

steel reserve swill swallowing sack of pig ****,
road manure,
filthy

stain beneath the *** of a circuis clown.

  If you find me dead,
don't bother alerting the authorities, they don't deserve the hassle
of
sanitizing my waste.

     Let the dirt eat me;
and the field mice
live in my skull.

I will speak to the eternal garden and ride along with the valkyries to hell.
I am an artist and this is my punishment
I am not racist using the word '******'. It's just a word of disparagement.
White people have by far been the biggest pain in my *** and are the the most outright judgmental, classist, and spiteful.

— The End —