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Rachel Foxton Oct 2012
I'm coated in wax
Your flame laced words too close.

You melt my outer shell
Revealing the cracks in my intricate mask.

Panic seeps through
The promise of exposure bittersweet.

I embrace
Change my colour and form to simplify.

But you stop
No longer curious for the truths hidden inside.

Brushed aside
Just a pretence of care you need for my sympathy vote.

Once again
Half exposed, only to the harshness of reality.

The fires out
I owe you nothing.
Today, when I was feeling worse that Jack Kerouac
I thought this must be a touch of the Doubles,
a dizziness from reflection, or perhaps an accumulation
of appearances, too many appearances.
Pull the shades.

Sit back and relax, confide in yourself, i say.
Where did it all begin, and for what reason?
Am I a mirage of the identical, a disorder
in the analogous, some transmutation of exact endings?
One imagines Zarathustra singing in the shower.

"If you can't find a woman, find a clean old man", says Jack,
ride the greyhound, hang around the men's room, try dope."
He always shouts from the freeway entrance,
thumb aimed offensively in the direction of L.A.

Later, in the woods, I whispered like Thoreau;
"simplify, simplify. One pair of ***** is enough for any man."
Be yourself, I said. Walk down the sidewalk.
Step on all the cracks.
Nicole Bataclan Oct 2012
We want the gadget
That does it all
Connects us at all times
Protected from a fall.
From now on,
No one is out of reach
In our free time
It even has the ability to teach:
The quote of the day
News incoming
Throughout the day
Pop-ups in a constant state
Do not have to check
It is the notifications alert
That we set.
Why look any further
Carry in our pockets
One or two things heavier
It also works as a camera,
A map if we get lost
A game center when we are bored.
This lovely little package
Wrapped in multifunctional;
Nothing it cannot offer
That one that gives us all --
Is it not
Precisely what we want
An ideal all-in-one?

The gadget that does it all
That has made everything
So accessible;
We want the same in people
Someone that has it all
The ideal all-in-one
Trying to materialize
The perfect person.
Answering to our needs
The looks that we fancy
Mind-boggling
But still entertaining
And put on silent
When it is inconvenient
Then expected
To succeed
Continually.

But where is the fun
In the easier version
Who needs perfection
When there is
A specialized version?
The one
That may not have all things
But does that one thing
In excellent condition.
A camera
That takes
Professional ones
An intellect
That sprinkles
The conversation
A stereo
That plays music
In high-definition
A sensible soul
That spreads
His recollections.
To be ideal
Is to simplify
To simplify
is not ideal --
So rather look for
Someone special
Than an all-in-one.
Mike Hauser Mar 2013
I thought about this long and hard
In fact I thought about it all the time
What would happen to belly button lint
If you set the stuff on fire

I collected more than enough
Over the years to see this through
So I went and invited a few friends along
The word it spread and the crowd it grew

All the folk from the town came out
They'd been collecting belly button lint just like I had
Not quite as impressive a pile as mine
I guess I'm the biggest belly button lint dust collecting man
That's (B.B.B.L.D.C.M.) if you want to simplify who it is I am

You might think that's something to be proud of
And believe me when I say that I am
After I got through signing autographs
We proceeded with my grand plan

The crowd stepped up one by one
To toss their lint onto the pile
Coming close to blocking out the moon
As the pile grew ever higher

(Finally the time had come to light up
the famed belly button lint dust fire)

It was Frankie who spoke up first
And said he'd be honored to flick his bic
That was the very last time we saw any of him
Frankie and the lint lit up like a rocket ship

When the shock wore off I turned around
And saw the whole town up in flames
I've had a lot of great ideas before
I'm not quite sure this was one of them

I now live in a hippie commune in the woods
Since my towns no longer there
It's kind of lonely without Frankie around
Although there's still that lingering hint of burning hair

I no longer collect belly button lint these days
I sure learned my lesson with that
Haven't worked out the details of my next grand idea
But I can tell you it involves a big ball of my ear wax
Tommy Johnson Jan 2015
Nothing is absolute
And there are countless variables thrown into the mix
Do your best to simplify
Search for those high exponents to bring your base to a better place
No need for negativity
Times can get adverse and even inverse
But you must remain in power as an integer
There is no substitute for you
Distribute some of your positiveness
To all groupings of coefficients
And their properties
You have yet to reach your prime, but you will
Daniel Regan Apr 2013
Oh, I got that feeling again. I’ve been staring at the ceiling again. Letting my heart take flight, as the music reaches its height, taking my thoughts out of minds’ sight. But this feeling I now fight, cannot be controlled. Cannot be moved, overcome, or even forced to fold. Gripping my ever-changing soul and forcing my hands. As my breath leaves my body and my feet forget to stand. Hands pushed to speak through the letters they find. Putting feelings to words that cant seem to speak my mind. Frustrated by my inaction, that passively takes form. In the words I now force to unwilling conform. To these one-inch margins that box in my thoughts, constricting my deepest feelings and simplify life’s plot. All perpetuated by the rhythm, of the ever-spinning fan. Mounted just above my bed, that seems to hypnotize what’s in my head. Threading image to feeling, and my feelings to my words. As the tapestry of us, now resembles fleeing birds. Each winged reminisce that has forever taken flight, a moment in time that will always hold spite. Towards cliffs edge that stands between what the heart seeks. And a mans inability to step beyond its daunting peak. So with time ticking down and our future running by, I stand at a distance and continue our little lie. One living in the shadows of nights eternally pasted on, when passions ignited without though of our coming dawn. Only of the connection made with courage in hand, liquefied to motivate beyond what history had banned. What allies once forbid and witnesses cheered on, inhibition finding wind and politics forgone. Now forced to be nothing more then memories in the sand, as our hourglass approaches empty and my thoughts continue to be fanned. Continue to find rhythm as the blades spin madly by, ticking down to a day when I cannot take the lie. Cannot take this falsehood that pushes me from behind, as I approach that daunting edge of my own terrified mind. So with time in short supply along with my pride, I put black to white and our segregation aside. In the hopes that time stands still for just a moment more, to help you understand that it is you I adore.
Sydney Wilson Oct 2017
I’ve separated myself
into boxes under the bed
and into cupboards
behind the important things
so there’s never a chance
I’ll get in the way
you can easily find
all the parts of me you need
and ignore all the rest
.
Harly Coward May 2016
I breathe in the cold snap off the morning breeze,
Birds bustling about over head whilst sailing along,
Something creeping carefully through branches with ease,
Wind carrying them in wonder whooshing them along.

The clouds thicken like when I put on a sweater during winter walks,
The trees bending to the wind and surrounding me as I walk the path,
The clouds and I shivering under our jumpers and almost out of our socks,
The trees harboring another natural world up above while I stick to the path.

Something traveling infinitely among upper Earth craving connection,
A musical lullaby rings through my ears reminding to stay on the path,
My mind racing logically and frantically wondering if they will offer me protection,
Does my human mind have more choice then just fight or flight, just stay on the path.

So I spread my arms out as I touch every single leaf with ever single finger,
The trees bending and surrounding me with their worlds colliding on my path,
I feel the morning dew dripping off of my shaking hands
I feel salty serene tears dripping off my pink face onto my path.

Wind whipping forcefully pushing the trees down listening quietly to their moans,
I enter a clearing full of tall dancing grass and head straight to the center,
I lay in corpse pose letting the dew soak through my thin shirt chilling my bones,
I let go of all of the weight on my chest exhaling it out and up towards the center.

The world loves me,
The world loves me not,
Pulling petals off of flowers,
Is a waste of being.
AJ Nov 2013
well i'm not good at math, so i guess i'm not smart
and i don't care about you, so i don't have a heart
your perception is off, but what else would you expect
from a person who tries to simplify all that is complex
like race and gender, it's not like you think, it's not set in stone
and the stereotypes that you speak chill me to the bone
"not be racist but" is not a way to start a sentence
there's no "buts" in racism, could you show some repentance?
well, not to be racist, but white people are *****
and not to be sexist, but all men are ******
and i'm getting tired of all of your ignorance
how does it feel to be full of intolerance?
you see the world through one narrow view
has anyone told you that you haven't got a clue?
you can't put people in boxes, we are so much more
we're filled with infinities that simply won't fit in a drawer
each mind is a galaxy, well, i guess maybe not yours
and you're so afraid of what you don't know
so get out of this world, i think it's time you go
because no one likes racists, *******, or jerks
being a ******* won't get you any perks
it's about the heart, not about the face
we're all a part of one single human race.
Geraldine Taylor Jun 2017
As potential grew, a desire to write, disclosed to few

Imagination immerse, but yet to thirst for knowledge, accrued ambition address

All aboard the express, thoughts of Harry, a plot to marry

From fanciful flights to greater heights

Capturing such visualisation, twas the formation

Characterisation, of wings to soar, with metaphor

From Dumbledore, yet taking shape

Professor Snape, assume the plot, lest thoughts forgot

A forest to roam, a philosophical stone

Such creative flair of which to share

Joining of the dotted line, artistic mind

Transporting train, journeyed acclaim

Of whom to impede, the will to succeed

The ability to write, the capacity to teach, the desire to reach

An impetus for change, a literary role, a priority

Of which to seek with tenacity

Beyond horizons, beyond confines, stand undefined

Awe-inspire, great readership, a due reply

To simplify, a noble shift, outstanding writer in the midst

Dynamic plot from pen to page, persistence through to published stage

A realised dream, challenge overcome

A victory won definably, stocked supplies to library

Broomstick flight phenomenon, a mystical tale was to become

Would generate, the bus of Knight, to render right

A rebuilt life, a legacy made

From chosen craft to final draft, a world of creativity

The right to type, to innovate, an intriguing wait

A shining star that would liberate



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
The celebrity poem entitled 'J. K. Rowling' is auto-biographical in nature, which celebrates the inspiring journey of the accomplished author. Her innate ability and ambition to write was originally known only to those closest to her. The journey from a humble station to 'Hogwarts Express' was no simple feat. The commitment and dedication to hold onto the initial vision of Harry Potter, along with his varied adventures was crucial.

Even when outward circumstances and temporary trials of life appeared to go against the grain of the vision, one had to embrace the potential that would later be realized. Within the formality of daily life, she had initially undertook alternative career paths, including teaching English students in Portugal. Yet in the midst of her accrued experience, the foundations of her career as an author were taking shape. As time evolved, the relevant opportunities began to unfold, with the Harry Potter series now being translated into film, as well as an intriguing world of fantasy.
Thessa J Pickett Oct 2014
The french Figured
Out a way to
Simplify the cooking
Experience

Sheer brilliance
I say, Sheer brilliance

But I wonder why the
Bologna doesn't Fry until the Bubble
Forms when my grandma used to cook it?
Not the same without the bubble, its just not the same...
a m a n d a Aug 2013
[i would hold onto something if i were you]

so...
just hurtled down
the QEW
120 km/h
for 2 hours
in pieces of metal slapped
together - real close to other
people doing the same
(i find it worrisome that no
one finds this strange)

cuz, you know
i needed some alone time
aha...aha...ha...ha
in my shiny metal tomb
eyes wide in the dark
(you know, trying to avoid
   obstacles and ****?)
music ******* B O O M I N G
  it's not right
until the bass
          sits in my throat
   and i get a shiver up my back
now we're ready to hurtle through space
       deaf to the outside world

in addition,
  i decided to commit 1% brain power
            to drinking coffee
  i don't know, say 3% to navigating
                 2% to wondering why my left eye was
                 ******* hurting
.5% to wondering if I really had roaming turned off
      
at one point,  *99%
  to figuring out why the *mirage looming ahead
       looked like a battleship - my mind racing -
how could this be - the shapes
the lights - i squint - look for water
                   turns out it was a ******* restaurant
with all kinds of lights outlining edges...but it
really ramped up my concern
in terms of reality there
(for a moment)

i've got some
serious mind-racing
word-related issues
as of late
so this little vision quest
on the QEW
i can't even begin to unravel
in a single paltry
word splash

if i try...
to simplify

i'm a little concerned
that the reason of
my being...the nature
of this crybaby,
ambien-mice-feeding
lunatic
(i'll get to that in a sec)
boils down to:

cooked carrots, high school band, art,
Nancy Drew, and
Star Trek the Next Generation

-

uh...about the mouse
believe me
i freak the **** out
if a mouse is running around
in a goddman house
jesus h - it has to go
but
it was decided the mouse
was to be caught
on a sticky mouse trappy trap
with a piece of cheese

i arrived home
to a very alive mouse
very very stuck
in a sickening way...
but problem solved...yes?

oh no, my friend...problem times two
i did not like to see the mouse in this state.
and i sure as hell wasn't gonna
throw it in the garbage like some kind of animal!
(the gross beady eyed little thing...
but the tail is the worst)

i laid down on the floor
and looked at it
and it wanted the ******* cheese.
so i fed it some.
yeah, that's right.
i fed the ******* mouse some ******* cheese

i mean christ, can't the poor
thing have a last meal?
i mean it just happened to
get into my house.

i laid on the kitchen floor a long time...
looking at that mouse,
feeding it cheese.
and then i was trying to think of how
to **** it fast (cuz you know, i **** **** all the time?)
and i couldn't think of anything...
until brilliance behold - i could drug the **** thing!

if i can take a whole ******* ambien,
then surely a mouse cannot
without consequences plenty
so if i crush one up,
with a mortar and pestle,
yeah, that's right...
a mortar and ******* pestle
*******

all i have to do is sprinkle
some ambien on the cheese
and boom
night night
ambien cheese dream

all i'm gonna say is
that things did not go
as planned
ambien face
      mouse
snow
AmandaJane Jul 2010
I tried to simplify all the complicated feelings I have.

Some times you irritate me,
so I leave, but then miss you.

Some times I dont like it when you touch me,
but then I want to be all over you.

Alot of the time that im smiling, I want to strangle you
but then you make me laugh.

I'm actually not really sure if I even like you that much,
although I think I might just be in love with you...

It's all rather confusing.
Peter Krespan Aug 2014
Hide me from myself in the endless forests.
Cleanse my mind in the gentle ocean.
Blow away my hesitation in the canyon's wind.
Grow my life's satisfaction in the bright green valley.
Make me whole in the unmarred fields.
Release these cold thoughts in the woeful glaciers.
Vent my uncertainties in the ominous swamps.
Idealize my peace in the waterfalls.
Present to me solitude in the tundra.
Simplify my existence in the plains.
Show me contemplation in the caves.
Show me truth in the sky.
Kimberly Clemens Aug 2013
You are a complex person
So many confusing equations to figure out
All these numbers and signs adjacent to each other
Only I can simplify you
Because my numbers and signs line up with yours
I am just as complex
And when you put two complex equations
Side by side with an equal sign in between
You either cross out all the same complexities
Or combine them to make a nightmare of numbers
And I know that you and I, side by side,
Will simplify each other
Our relationship will not be foiled
Because we'll cancel out all our symbols
And leave a beautiful product
That leaves others jealous
Searching for the match that will make them
Just as simple, just as beautiful
Simple as that.
P E Kaplan Sep 2011
Not sure why yard sales didn’t make the Stress Scale ‘cause the uptick in adrenaline, the ramped-up apprehension of letting stuff go, especially stuff that's been around for a while, the feeling of loss, picturing someone with your old stuffed pony, it’s painful.

This saying goodbye to things brings an emotional dilemma, a mixed-up sense of knowing it's high time for the thing-a-ma-bob with no actual relevance, to be dumped while some queasy feeling of unexpected meaning to the thing erupts.  

And an inner kid sputters, "No, please not my wacha-ma-call-it, no, I’m not ready yet.” or your favorite uncle's favorite chipped ashtray along with the obnoxious bric-a-brac, knick-knack, from; who was it again, suddenly becomes the Hope Diamond.

Yep, yard sales are tough, your private junk out for all the world, to ******, to turn upside down and sour-faced putting it down, as you breathe a sigh of relief the bozo didn’t take home your treasured, dusty paper weight with the faded shamrock inside.

Seriously, yard sales are like putting your whole life on the front page, exposed to strangers, because friends with your best interest in mind, tell you to simplify, clean out, move on, start anew after they’ve witnessed your life fly apart…

Like a paper napkin flies up into a gust of wind, swirls upwards  catches forever on a branch and these self-same, well-meaning pals are incapable of your need to keep the rusty tea kettle, the one you boiled water in to make tea for your sweetheart every day.

Then, when finally you’ve sorted through it all and it’s laid out defenseless in the grass, beside the “House for Sale” sign, you spot some **** fool, your dead mother's "Old Faithful" trivet held high, the one she got on the only vacation she ever had, yelling,  "Hey sis, will ya take a dime for this?"

And the raindrops begin to fall.
Ayeshah Jun 2014
I reminisce quite often

of your touch

and

the unabashed ****** experimentation's

we've shared.

I know my worth,

so don't you go forgetting,

I had you with your mouth agape,

your toe's curling

as

you cried out my name...

call my conceit one of a kind,

because

I know the way you stare,

the way your  eyes lustfully & licentiously devourer me,

the way you crave me

and

how you cling to the memories of us,

in bed.

Your priapic lust for me

is

equally accepted & measure,

almost to a point where

I could have ******-combusted

since

you always seem unable to stop,

but

you must know,

I have a very arcane little list and lucky for you

I've let you in...

hahaha lucky indeed & better for me.

My concupiscence  language

and

metaphors simplify & convey my lustful intent.

In simpler terms just know I want to repeat are coupling,

I'd like you to to bend me over and stretch me to my fullest.

open me widely

and

dance with in my silken  Venus’ cradle,

entangle me into

a dreamlike haze,

in which my  fantasy and reality are indistinguishable.

I know you've  harboured about me & the many ways,

all the very excitingly different ways you could defile

and desecrate my ripe tight little body,

I see more clarity and certainty of what might happen,
  
if ever

I'd allow you to spend the night with me again,

I still remember our passionate nights together,
  
oh so very well,  

I can see it,

I taste us and worst yet,

I can feel your animalistic

and

sometimes brutal ****** assault on me,

I still feel you deep within

my seductive tight little love box.

Your

a

cannibalistic-cunnalinguist master,

causing havoc within me,

as you attack hungrily

between my thighs,

sending me spinning,

sending me on a  intoxicating high.

Our last encounter,  

left me unable to breathe,

barely able to walk and yet I have no regrets,

well maybe just one,

and that is;

all good things must come to an end!

(until I heal.)

Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
         K.A.C.L.N ©
     All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
LOL,
had to do something to incite you hehehe, hope you liked it , trying new things, thanks for reading!
pauldeeeeee Jul 2011
a thousand smiles across the sky.. seeing each face as they begin to fly.. im not here to judge nor to simplify.. i just want to understand why they keep singin this lullaby.. here i walk in this world of ours.. full of bruises, marks, and scars.. battlling each devil dead-on.. forgetting that im human after all.. so i fall.. again and again.. i crumble while my knees tremble to the riddle thats been handed out of me.. how can words set you free? how can thoughts make you wanna see, the workings and the abstracts of life's beauty.. these poems live till infinity.. these words are the mules that my mind sees as tools to change the way humans think to be true.. but most of us ain't got a ****** clue.. to why even the sky changes hues.. to why they killed and destroyed the blues.. we were made to be fools.. trapping us in cages called schools.. exchanging knowledge into ignorant "Duh's" and drools.. we have been forced to suppress what we can be.. we can learn how to destroy the boxes that trap us like bees.. they come at us like blind foes.. wearing shiny necklaces like lassos.. creating depth like black-holes.. taking us somewhere in blind-folds.. these are the people in black robes.. mind controlling us till they crack domes.. that destroy families and smash homes.. my hast has been about writing sad poems.. pushing a pen while lookin out the window.. we were treated like fools.. using us as tools.. i will never stop opposing the thought that makes the masses normal.. we try to be fair, try to be formal.. revolution and peace.. something that never seem to meet.. but this is possible.. all we need is to feel the heat.. this time i will not bleed.. walking these streets feed the need for me to plant these knowledge seeds.. this poet yells there is no satisfactions knowing that life is one of the baddest fictions ever written.. our dreams are shattered and smitten.. do you know where we ride, then? to stop in the middle of no where just to be hidden.. looking for help someone to  confide in.. then i found you.. and just like that, i was like a magnet stuck on you.. it starts with the smile.. a smile i see from miles.. and your glow.. able to flow the hollow space to eliminate my sorrow.. then comes the witty remarks.. able to make me forget the feeling of being eaten by a shark.. i see your shadow in the dark.. teasing me, comforting me to make my mark.. so i raise a toast to you my surfer dream.. may your stars always gleam.. so i can find my way back to the seam.. may your moon always shine.. and not matter the uncertainty of things to come, ill always be on time..

pauldeeeeee
24apr2011
anastasiad Jun 2017
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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
Eliza Aug 2017
Pack light
Don't add
Take off
In life
It's about
Working out
What needs
To stay
Not arrive
Caleb Hammonds Aug 2014
Grind
My mind is on the clock with no rest
Searching in the deep
Peace is my peak
So I simplify
If I buy the newest ride
I consider could I give it up
If not I drop
If so I cop
What is a knot for
But to buy love
New friends to support
With hopes to cultivate a family
Ecstasy
That feeling I get
When my real brothers next to me
Me
A user of money
To bring out the best in me
And giving is my destiny


Facebook: Caleb DreamChaser Hammonds
Twitter and Instagram: learn_agapelife
Red Dec 2020
One day I hope to put these feelings down in writing
To find a way to simplify the way these carry me
The smell of worn leather and pine trees in December
A cold wind and a creek half frozen
The line of trees that separate my house from the wilderness
And how some days I wish I could disappear in there with you

We would hunt and forage
forge a path of our own
Play an out of tune guitar around a smoldering fire
We would live in the trees and hide in the grass
You would braid my hair and we would dance barefoot in a clearing
To the sound of cicadas and leaves underfoot

I love, I miss, I want you.
I hope for you.
More than I will ever be able to tell you.
The smell of my leather hunting jacket made me emotional for a future I will never have. Those beat up leather riding boots in my closet make me want to walk until I disappear.
JJ Hutton Apr 2011
A barbaric itch slithers underneath my collar.

While chairs scuffle upon overgrown tile,
the brutality of our chance meeting gets
my finger nails scraping--

you keep tossing what's left of your hair,
as you siphon through the greasy grime
of your fought for fast food,
and rattle my cage with foreign sentiment--

you smirk to break my narrowing gaze,
did you wear that same black blouse
when we launched into our old mess?
The one we left on your bedroom floor,
and I really, really want to know
where that mess could go--

when I dream,
we simplify.
You are free of clothing,
and I'm free to feed on your body and time,
the ache satisfies,
but as children run past us,
as acne teens screech--
the plight of getting hot
and never off
roars in the midnight corridors
of my starving brain.

One touch--
a broken nail,
a sharpened tooth,
a swift tug of my scalp--
could really, really help
me cope with your amorous toxicity.
Andrea Diaz Sep 2012
Simple questions deserve simple answers.
For that is the way life runs,
The simpleness of a subject is complemented by something much more simpler.
So why is it, 
When this question surfaces in the minds of every writer,
There is nothing simple to it.

The reason for writing is as simple as it can be.
It is like painting on a canvas board,
For every stroke of the paintbrush is a stroke of words
Painting vivid images in the minds of every boy and girl.
We as writers are giving life to the lifeless lines of paper.
For even when it's blank,
There is still an image painted through words.

The greatest invention mankind could ever think of is words.
For without them, 
Nothing could ever exist.
Without the simpleness of screaming out how blue the sky is 
Or how soft those clouds look,
Or even how beautiful a starry night sky can be,
How can we
Ever appreciate the beauty writers create on canvas boards.
For every written word on a blank sheet of paper,
Is a stroke of paint,
Creating magnificence inside a dull mind

My good sir,
When asking a writer their reason for writing should be as simple as this
But
If its too complex for your mind to comprehend,
Then, let me simplify it further.
When you ask an artist their reason for creating art,
You are merely asking their reason for existing
Asking why they are  deluding themselves on such strange fantasies
But you have yet to realize the true nature of us artists
We find many ways to escape harsh realities 
Creating picture perfect paradises
Or even amplifying how gruesome society can be. 

The reason for writing should be as simple as this.
For the simpleness of a subject should be complemented with something much more simpler.
But if it's too complex for you,
The reason why writers write is as simple as this,
Writers are artists and therefore write to create art,
Like taking a single paintbrush and painting on a canvas board
We as writers take a single pencil and write on blank sheets of paper.
Kailey Brown Dec 2016
I am not a dumb girl. I will never be a dumb girl. In fact, I don't think there's even such thing as a dumb girl, just girls pretending to be dumb. Pretending because they were told that boys don't like girls that are "too smart" or who use big words to explain complex ideas. No, boys like "pretty girls". So that's what girls do, they focus on becoming pretty. They focus more on their hair and makeup than they  do on their potential and aspirations. They foster a diverse nail polish collection rather than a diverse worldview. And I am not one of these girls. I embrace my feminist, but not at the cost of my intellect. I make room for my makeup addiction, but I'll never use that makeup to cover up my brilliance. Yes, I like to be noticed for being pretty, but more than that I like to be noticed for my intelligence. I have a fire in my should that could burn down cities, and a kindness that could rebuild nations. So do you. We all do. We all have a greatness inside of us waiting to be released. To stifle that greatness is an immense injustice. To dumb yourself down, or expect someone to dumb themself down to protect your ego, is an enormous disservice to the world. So girls, don't simplify yourselves to being merely pretty, be great. And boys, don't expect us to be pretty, expect us to push you to be greater than you already are. Never accept the role of a "dumb girl", and never perpetuate it.
I strive my best to live a life of nonviolence
somewhere along the way I abandoned all common sense
trying to stop living in the past tense
and if you want my 2 cents
the world’s a mess
there’s something I would like to address
I used to think I was depressed
I digress
I guess all the excess stress went straight to my chest
lost access to self express
I haven’t been right since
you see
recently
I became obsessed with the oppressed
The majority turn a blind eye
but I see b.s.
don’t even get me started on the press
look into your mind’s eye and see the power we posses
yet we make no real progress
repress success by banning protests in the U.S.
so far gone we need a g.p.s
nonetheless, we, the people, need to reassess
they’re manipulating your mind
playing you like a game of chess
yet you still think you know what is best
and I can’t get any rest thinking about what’s coming next
I was put to the test
self-professed that I’m blessed
in retrospect I cannot recollect a day of rest
my mind is always on its grind
I have rain on my brain
clouds in my eyes
looking up at the sky you can’t stop time and ask it why it chooses to float on by
no matter how hard you try
just doing what I have to do to survive
although I know in the meantime you’re on my side
someone once asked me how I could believe and why
so in reply I’ll try to simplify
my faith was solidified when I realized
heaven is on standby
waiting for I
now my eyes are open wide
there is no side
only free will
there’s a comfort in knowing a chance remains still
it’s up to you to fulfill
your prophecy
your destiny
I’m just searching for what’s best for me
namaste
wish I could remain but I have to be on my way
here’s to hoping for a change
Arcassin B Aug 2017
By Arcassin Burnham


All at the same time,
all at the same time,
You should have been on your own in the beginning,
The start will never be finished,
hopes and dreams demolishing,
thoughts and conscious make you feel a bit squeamish,
But Hey,
this is the end for a new,

goodbyes , withdraws , incinerates the broken mind.
they've pave the way for us , its time to unify.
you say your breaking even , its about time.
the dos , the don'ts , we simply have to simplify.

you put it together baby.
all the counterparts that made me.
treat people how you wanna be treated.
all the **** compliments are shady.

This is between you and I.
please don't mistake me for a lie.
no one wants to be in the silver line.
a re-imagine of what you designed.

goodbyes , withdraws , incinerates the broken mind.
they've pave the way for us , its time to unify.
you say your breaking even , its about time.
the dos , the don'ts , we simply have to simplify.
©abpoetry2017
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2017/08/backyard-freestyle-pt2-same-time.html
Lawrence Hall Sep 2016
To Incorporate Institutional Effectiveness into
                                 Our Everyday Language**

)/)/)/ is updating our assessment plan for
Instructional units beginning this fall
2016 semester. After
Visiting with /)/, our SACSCOC
Consultant and Dr. /) yesterday
About our assessment process, it was
Determined that it is in our best interest
To clarify, verify and hopefully
Simplify the current random selection
Assessment process. Therefore, in lieu of
The use of the random selection process,
The plan for this semester and moving forward
Is to assess all students in all sections
Of courses used in the assessment process
And to report data on all students,
NOT just assessing or reporting data
On a random sample. In order to provide
Appropriate artifacts, we will choose
Representative samples (examples
Of great, fair and low achievement artifacts)
To be included in the artifacts
Collection for SACSCOC reporting. However,
We do still need to collect all artifacts
So we have those in the event they are
Needed. This will give us a better picture
Of how our students are performing.  

I know that we are changing directions
And I ask that you be patient as we
Navigate through this process and determine
How best to collect, assess, and use the data
We receive to make continuous improvements
For the good of the students and to
Incorporate institutional effectiveness
Into our everyday language.

Thank you for your willingness to assist
In this process and determining the best
Ways to help our students. Stay tuned as we
Look at and develop some additional
Templates or formats to report the data.
Please share this information with your faculty.
Jenna Cavanaugh Jan 2016
after everything you've done
this is what i'm grateful for
this is my silver lining
or blue lines in a notebook
you are the reason i first put pencil to paper and i'd like to say that i hate you for firmly making me grab the eraser
you make me write symphonies in my head
but sometimes i want to rip them to shreds
when I see you in the audience, the put in my stomach grows
as you listen and you know
but it's not about you
it's about me
because this is the only way that I feel free
and it's scary
because i also love you
for destroying me
and leaving me with a jar of ink
this is my form of expression
to escape from this feeling of depression
i put down every single thought
and i find that you appear a lot
so i transform you into words
and butterflies and chirping birds
and nightmares and the single cloud always hanging over my head
that is you
and when people say
"oh it's creepy that she writes about him"
i think it's only fair
you completely shattered me
and the least i should be able to do is write some poetry
because it's the only time that i can breathe
and maybe all these feelings will leave
and i know that they often grow
but when i transform you on paper
that's when i know
that it's okay to feel this way
i'll hate you and love you
and the only reason for either one
is because you gave me this gift
and sometimes try to take it and run
so i guess what i'm trying to say is that writing about you comes easy
even though getting over this was not
you were not what you seemed
and i hate and love it at the same time
for example, this poem wasn't meant to rhyme
but then all of my thoughts combined and there you were
so yes i write about you
and you can tell all your friends too
this wasn't meant to glorify
it was just trying to simplify
the equation of me
and to do that
i'll use poetry
so i'd like to thank you
for introducing me to me
Majd Al Deen Aug 2014
((This poem is written by Omega and me))

He glanced high and high
At the moon up in the sky
Where only real friends say Hi
Where children never needed to cry
Where dreams only needed a try
Where all hopes lie

With wings they could fly
With hopes they jump up high
With strength they apply
With beauty of a butterfly
With peace everywhere they occupy

Each time they get closer, things amplify
Tangled problems start to simplify
Justice is applied, so no need to justify
Hearts are pure, no need to clarify
All things are perfect,  no need to qualify

People there never live as mystery
And never die as history
They live with a flourishing industry
Where the life has no boundary
That's the world of legendary

Money there has no quantity
People there have one identity
Their flag is humanity
Their emblem is " No to poverty "
Their perception is full of sanity
Their lives are full of charity
Their purpose is creativity
Their hearts are full of sensitivity
They've never beleived in impossibility

With their dreams magnify
They got high and high
But when it is time to say "goodbye"
They continued to fly and fly
Please note that this poem was written by two .. Omega and me... please check him out and his other awsome poems
<3
Pen
Some people take comfort in labels
Finding which little box to fit in
Knowing just by a glance, by a hashtag, a stance
That others can see what's within
Some people rely on their labels
On things that tell them who they are
That simplify life into boxes of white
Scribbled meaning stuck onto their jar
Now some people, they run from all labels
Afraid that they hold them down  
And losing their minds to a few words and lines
In social adhesive are bound
See people forget that their labels
Are choices, not simply assigned
Meanings can change and symbols rearrange
By those by whom they were designed

So friend, take back charge of your labels
Because You create them in the end
And if labels align, well that would be fine,
But remember that you hold the pen.

|b.g.|
A commentary on social media bios and a label crazy yet label hating society.
A Thomas Hawkins Sep 2010
I wander from room to room
trying to pick out what to keep
What to take on to the next place
where to sit and where to sleep

I'll take the bed of course
maybe a couch or maybe two
a writing desk and oil lamp
so I've at least got stuff to do

I dont need a television
fax machine or dryer
I'll write letters for a past time
dry my clothes in front the fire

I think I leave all of my gadgets too
from the office and kitchen
that way when they break
wont be me you hear *******'

Blankets and a rocking chair
books and candles too
pots and pans and plates and stands
and cutlery for two

Of all the things around me
there's so little that I need
will be nice to simplify my life
and shed this cloak of greed
ipoet Jul 2012
why don’t you?

lift your arms and
heal yourself

stand taller than you
were made

be stronger
than fear

mould dreams into
rainbows

why don’t you

set root
and paint the world

green with envy
you are alive

simplify your needs and
grow wings,

or stand still,
and skin lizards,

decorate yourself
in war paint,

shake off the dust,
why don’t you

uproot yourself and
walk a mile

in any direction you like,

you must at least
try,

To rage against
this idea

that you cannot
and perhaps

the sweat off your brow
will seed fertile ground,

coat handsome men
with lust for life

become
aphrodisiac
Montana Nov 2012
Let me simplify
what you can't justify
by saying
it's futile
and unimportant.
You're lackluster
and distorted.
This time is vacuous
And holds no meaning
So watch it play out
And quit your dreaming.

— The End —