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n)Ethno-spirit and Biodiversity (Diogiversity)

Given its ethnikos factor and contribution towards a common origin of multiethnic and languages, in values and traditions, its morphological factors of Verthian sub-mythology, are provided with content, features, colors, and textures of neutrality, focused on a biosphere ecosystem, where the air conditioning, flora-fauna will make Sub-mythological Biodiversity, where the beings that inhabit it and will be in the range of evolution of mythological living beings, whose diversity of genetic seizures, will adopt natural and compound patterns, but always predominant in the biological pattern and organic. Wandering the world in desert places, in alloys and classified plant compounds, emptying their species through the hollow of the atmosphere and through the green grasslands in the reviving surviving evolution of organisms and species that for the first time see each other as a biotype between rocks and plantations, reciprocally among themselves, and extemporaneously generating mythological genetics heritages. Considering millions of years in evolution with explosions of multicellular and fossilized species extinct in massive and occlusive memories. Inert matter and geological strata will make millions of years converted into microseconds in the Verthian Biodiversity of the Duoverse, in a Psychic and spiritual Universe, emerging in all macroscopic perspectives and parapsychological regressions. Impact They will cause the maturity of all the diversity of externality and sensations in new topologies of anonymous universes and species of biodiversity, under a pillar of culture based on the Sub-Mythological biosphere process, encompassing all mythological species where the hope of Life and Super life. Transforming systems of functionality under the protection of spontaneous generation and in a matter that is availably underlined in the mountainous tissues of the mechanics of the subset of the air mass, water, climatic biospheres, and biogeochemistry, that in the unreal juncture of, and inter-procedural reality of carbon, that factor the species key and specimen disclosure, in the collection and in sinks, water drains but without carbon. encompassing all mythological species where the Life expectancy and Super life unfolds.

Hyperdisis, the galaxy connected to the Duoverso, in its biotic diversity, reinsert thick clumps of Nothofagus Obliqua forests, in waste processes, to domesticate the Leiak ethno-forest species, as balance nutrients and repair the disgraceful disgrace of unnatural toxicity and fragile of the agrosystem, maturing cultures and preventive pollination in succulent transfers for purposes of food webs and the environment. Making the appearance of species more effective and perceptible, reunited in community chains of coherence, to amortize low-resource needs and distance economic-political impacts, in view of new base resources and the sustainability of balance of allopathic crops, for the good of driving the extinction of plagues or flagrant excesses not converted, Hyperdisis has a mass of inert matter that creates accesses of resilience, for salinity, rainfall, and human adaptive mythological innovation, given its versatile opening of complement and generation of substances, for the convenience of living beings and No. Having adopted in the context of mythological Galaxy, related to beings of light comparable to distant elements, by means of Psychic Trisomies and tell transportation, for energy sources and soil and water mechanics with Leiak, constituting molecules for the simplification of phenomena of exacerbation of chronic diseases and endogenous. Forests and parks of Hyperdisis in the symbiotic open air, for more airs in microbiological space, in the intimate portion from greatest to least challenge of elements exclusive of antinomies of hieratic human bio culturalization, in a showcase of communities with an interest in technologies and renewable empirical usability, each part doing its scientific role and biodiversity in the portico of its home. As a hieratic quality, presenting amendments that are glimpsed and more existing, although it passes before our eyes without a Carbon Footprint, figuring logical mathematics by sponsoring its count more than a shadowy synthetic body, anticipating super-appraisal measures, averaging them in tiny theological portions, with varied and dissimilar levels of genetic habitats and alleles or heterozygous in the taxonomic functionality of reproductive and approving biological elements. The wealth and abundance of this item are delegated to Leiak, in all the revolutionary processes of the oak forests and the high mountains,

Within the gasifications of Cinnabar, there was Carbon in its Life cycle, being Zefián; the curator of the Duoverse, destined for a lifetime, under Universal and intergalactic effects. Claiming innocent beings with greater attributes of predation survival in the ecological chain, with the mix of Tsambika and Theoskepatis, granting multidirectional dynamic residual matter for green energy emissions. Feedback quantifies offset options in carbon circulation, offsetting multipurpose CO₂ inventory. Through the darkness Zefián and Vernarth traveled in the streets of Rhodes, and in Tsambika looking for the distilled portions of the carbon and sulfur emanated by the Cinnabar. In the same way Etréstles in Theoskepatis initiating with the Archpriest by virtue of the honors and the rubies of accumulations of water mass and of sulfur and carbonated air, which hung over the low sky of Rhodes and Kimolos. They were going to the Necropolis of Hellenika, when the gnostic rampages were glimpsed in the surrounding slab, minting half of the gold bars for the great goldsmith who erects the conventionality of having the physis imperturbably established, as a matter of patriarchal character. They entered Helleniká and the souls that wandered were ringed under crescent-encrusted rings, lavishing the independence of the night in the hands of Borker, which was reflected in the capitals of a mausoleum. Borker is consistent in saying that he is free in Helleniká, In the myth of the dustbin woodworm of the frieze where Etréstles perched next to Zefián's strap, who would manipulate the gold and alabaster chain, to pull its ascetic and rubies from it, approaching a final night in the astronomical autumn, in the last parapsychological regression of the god Vertumnus, which would embody the expiration of the Helleniká friezes by Kashmar branches decayed from vegetation and the tears of the Etruscan god Vertumnus. Making the branches of the Kashmar, the epithet of heraldry in the noble metals and woods of the autumn, and the mountainous temple of the one that follows the equinox in the meridian of seven days towards the southern and northern hemisphere. in the last parapsychological regression of the god Vertumnus, which would embody the expiration of the Helleniká friezes by Kashmar branches decayed from vegetation and the tears of the Etruscan god Vertumnus. Making the branches of the Kashmar, the epithet of heraldry in the noble metals and woods of the autumn. They enter the Necropolis of Helleniká, by upper and lower trays, cordoned off by obelisks in a series of petrified labels, in the square sections of the convergent ones and the linearity of the central pyramid, where they sponsored all the sectors of the stones of the prismatic geometric body, next to some piloneos that flanked the third of those that were in the figurative memory of funerary monuments of Vernarth. In harmony with the radiosities of the Cinnabar, they purged the carbon emanations in the intra-bodies of petrified breaths, expanding in the segments of frenetic life of the behavior of the inert matter, crushed by the organic, polishing the degrading character of the excavated prayers, under a superfluous shade. It was already dawn, Etréstles and the Archpriest broke the loaves to deposit them in the bowl of the Day, stretching in the arms of heaven under the gargle of the god Vertumnus who forged from the materiality of Jupiter. Vernarth nodded his head to the movement of the winds that cut the profile of a Citarista yawning on the frieze that raises all the crowns of the princes of the living-dead, making them part of the royal occasion, preparing petty spaces and tyrannies for devouring vassals in Helleniká, from the lair of his rib one, sees Diogenes of Sinope emerge, splitting with his doctrinal staff all the Isthmian paroxysms, which declared the cell of his life as Diogiversity.

"There were murmurs of astonishment at the surprising response of the wise man because no one dared to speak like that to the king. Alexander the Great asked: "Why do they call you Diogenes, the dog?", To which Diogenes replied: "Because I praise those who give me, I bark at those who don't give me, and the bad ones I bite." Again, more murmurs, but Alejandro was not moved by those answers and said: "Ask me what you want." So Diogenes, undeterred, replied: "Get away from where you are, you cover the sun for me"..., Vernarth replied: "Look for him in the bones of those who refused to die and fear beyond expiration who rejoices in the cold of the dean ossuary seed, without heat or memory here in Corinth and its Diogiversity ".

o)Reflection space length (π)

The hemispheres were out of proportion, one another was modified in the air, leaving the horizon exorbitant and the poles out of square. Coastal the lengths of the sun around areas that some Helleniká countrymen had never put on the crowns of their consciousness. Certain pressure changes dislocated other modules in the filaments that had rudimentary inaccuracies, creating reflection space failures in the installation of the Duoverso, due to the due calculation defect. The observations of Hyperdisis, generated superpositions of the Zigzag Universe, before the crescent moon, after the full moon, again de-calculating the sphere of Hyperdisis in relation to the ecstatic length of itself in the hands of a third of a second a day, to overflow in impositions that They revealed Dekas Cove in Kimonos(π).

The value of the opinion of reflections will be the originality of breaking of statics, of the motors of the verb and the conscience of the flushed being, and of erudition of the naive contrast when decanting the perceived morality. They concur with the moral value in every sub-mythology of an ambivalent being of supernatural human co-belonging, not dependent on gnoseological reflections, rather spontaneous under the embankment of reason. The latter being absent in the shadow of its shadow, no reflection can take hold of anti-values, self-valorized in contingencies under the effects of the drug of lies or truth, in a difficult equation to refer to in gnosis treatises, declaring the absence of consciousness to species without reflection or length of their molecular evolution, in evidence of mythological humans. The triangle Patmos, Rhodes, and Kímolos, make up a Venusian adonis, of stimuli in the nostrils of Aion, which sneezed on the integrity of the reflex arc at high speed superseded in the tremors of Athens until Hyperdisis, flashing anatomical and pejorative on the optic nerve of the Colossus Rodino, and the twisting of the multi-personal muscles..., but already depersonalized..., with little telluric reaction in the core of the symmetry of his legs, dodging as he thrashed on his frowned arms, behind the legs of the lycaons..., digging his jaws in reflex arches, for ages that only an immemorial one would enchant him, and be it the throbbing of the earth in the crust and seams of the calcined Colossus. Existing like this their reflection of attenuated light, they shook through the sea full of sinewy pieces of precise length. Frequently in the hydronium cations, undermining the temporality of Tsambika in random stones in the humid, and dark narrowness of the anthropic reflection, having lived in the heavenly paradise that formed them by the volcanic tube and its syngenetic, by the erosion of the subsoil of Rhodes. In Helleniká, everything that is expected, flows with the Meltemi tubularly, so that they are polyps of fluctuating desolation or placed above all zephyr or anti-wind, in ammonoids or ammonites; reviving from the seas it flows with the Meltemi tubularly, so that they are polyps of fluctuating desolation or placed above all zephyr or anti-wind, in ammonoids or ammonites; reviving from the seas from Devonian to Cretaceous, escaping from the ferocities of the Etesios and these same escaping from the roars of Vernarth.

p) One-Dimensional Beams II

When their ears fell in love with the Orthoptera or Grylloideas before Joshua, the night became restless, abandoning them from their shelters, they brushed the seeds of the thistle that trembled with the new millennium of the Duoverse. Levitating their ailerons in the tenors of their birth and dilettante sounds, before an ovipositing candor of the remains of the abdomen that remained in their jaws, always being from one of the Beams, for the largest Enciphers that hung from their antennas in search of Joshua's telepathic messages in the manger. Sappho of Mytilene, also known as Sappho of ****** or simply Sappho, pretended to be a marigold proliferating in the twenty corridors of the Greek poet, and also as the tenth poet in the other ten that was reflected with transparent wings of the dew that stuck, phenomenal of physique -Saphonic and in the recent rain of wind and condensed air, in the form of drops due to the sudden decrease in temperature in contact with cold surfaces. Sappho's dew was talked about in Kafersesuh, usually when it comes to condensation on a Poetic Grylloidae surface, naturally on the ground cover or artificially in a dull cloudy crystalline, in the amount of supernatural tradition, heroes, superheroes, and anti-heroes conspiring with the territorialities of hexagonality.

The Aramaic message comes forward with vigor from the orthopterans and birds that piled up on the journey, going back and forth. The Beams shone from the celestial kingdom holding on to the Cherubim and the Archangels, through the paths of conversion and the support of the bizarre Christian time, in implacable hegemony for the propaedeutic of phylogeny, but more than perfumers chemistry and the same creation. carrying Lepidoptera winged tetra and Sand Crickets, on the interlocking and obfuscated pheromones from a nascent-elemental child, in his own evangelical philosophy, from a winged dimensionality and in the gloom of Manger shouted and aligned, before the compendiums of double pyramidal landmarks and of inflection, of his word in the Grylloids and panaceas created in the affinities of the world and Animalia, stylizing muleteers carriers, phrasing acronyms and parabolizing the polygonic nomenclature of the child made a territorial man on the wings of a Cricket, already being it !, but representing himself as a lifeless man in the entirety of an advantageous canon child, from a sudden bi-dimensionality of Grylloideos. A great Zohar light gathered all towards a whole in those vantage points of terrestrial columns and orthopterans that Joshua felt in advance in his resined ears, like irreversible entropy giving back his wise existence to prepare them for the day of his holocaust. Pre Existing in catharsis and busilis substance of divinity connected with the Grylloid phylogenetic species, classifying until the Aramaic crackle, pontifying pheromones settled in the lithosphere site of Gethsemane, coincidence in the wading of a Libraco period, or in the phenomenological simultaneity of Eukaryota and Glaucophyta until late Animalia, giving relation parental in the characters of the vibrational timbre of the Beams and the atavistic pedestal, readapting in the evolutionary ellipticals of tetra-winged species, allowing to change the ancestral linguistic accouterments in processes of redesigning the genetic historical tree..., divine and increasing.

Inter-Duoverse, in space demography, has been frequented since today in a nuptiality between the Sun and Earth, wrapping the inter-generational homes that have prostrated themselves to the One-dimensional Beams, evolving millions of years between links of angels from the north and the south., for each year between half years and decades that the ancestors are passionate about, unleashing in what they aged in their youthful lives and eternal ideals, as an atom not guaranteed in families that did not get to know their Duoverse. When they walk through the urbanized farm of their parents they go in their shoes and in the paternal and inter-parental sun barefoot, the children travel far from the monographic patriarchy, declaring themselves between psychic families and unstable plots of core conformity and procreation.

The line of supra healthy cerebral is born from the Beams of deforested family trees and treasured in the Trunk of the seventh ascending generation, towards a nefarious tribal of industrious and vegetating regressive parapsychology, bringing zombie societies, to great lethargy that disorganizes the parallel emotion of the Being descended from a Messiah, with the prophetic organization. There in the Koumeterium of Messolonghi, in past generations, the "IO" was omitted to limit them from the spellings like Ghost Cemetery lost in other lost sacramental ancestors. The inappropriate location of our ancestral duties has guided us in the axis of the pabulum, before the second coming of Messiah Parousia, to continue the re-sprouting foliage of the Universal theological tree. The children of the seven intergeneration generations, will be from the endearing of a patriarchal family, and those of Exo family lineage will be from outside the non-generational family, where everything flourishes according to the requiems of ******-domestic economies, and in the new chimera from new shocks and reprimands, already being spouses the Sun and the Earth after being divorced from a deluge of immolations and inter-millennia and rotations, further than those of any prophet wandering without advancing or rotating, enlisting and expiring in succumbed and pre-historicized generations of other prehistoric ones. Pre and post Flood; not presenting itself as the object of linking a thousand decades where not even a holy chirp from the Thrush, praises on the windows of the world bringing us babies that are born without past or future quantum generations. Ready to the hint of Duality and its nuptiality with the Sun and the Earth, They will make us magical creditors of the increase in demography and of unions that will marry in inter generations, not seeing passions in exhaustion, under the grass of the allegory of defeated love. Giving ourselves conjugal virtuosity, but of immanent dogma for the purposes of multi-figurative coexistence, under the Yoke of an individualized Faith, in the passing of millennia, we continue to crawl on the floor of the nebulae, and we do not rise to establish ourselves as masters of ecstasy, and the pendulum of the stars, creating us more in the orthogonal egalitarian of the cosmos and its Vernarthian architecture, of poly productivity, of Sun-Earth and its post-genetics, of high-grade clay, expanding with halberds on the self-insolated Suns, and highly calorific inherited towards a rupture of Solar freedom leaving us in the horizontal, not having ascendants of sin enriching their illicit chromosome. Made a beast, from the inertia of a paradise full of hidden public and private exchanges, but not secular, for those who pay tributes of ecstasy in a reborn and weakened state. This is how Diogiversality is verticalized (Diogenes's anthological action), concluding the variants that weaken the nexus of the denatured society of its atavistic social nuclear concomitant, extending eco-life gaps, but eco-unstructured and crucial inter-generational nature, being of arbitrary passion and of seismological doctrines, of haughty morality and of sociology fabrics without body or motor, with frail of castes and generations evolved age in a retrograde and elemental psychic sense, but biologically and reversibly to their boomerang lineage.

q)Amphibology Cosmogonic, Sub-Mythological root

The threshold, as a minimum rubric, must be in force from the Constellation of Orion, with barely a hundred millionths under the same eye of Orion and his psychophysical space, sensitive to the falcado charioteers and the water vessels on the backs of the probable Barnard Loop., and its nebula presence. The icy impulsiveness brought her under her right shoulder and the lean hollow under her arm unraveling from a staircase, at the entrance point of Betelgeuse coming from the cosmogony of Eridanus and in tune with Ptolemaic astrology. In the Sibyl and with a hint of a metric brilliant mass triplet, Betelgeuse Orionis, is the scale of the Aulos and piccolos expelling hydrogen as an Ace in 240 scales of harmonies and in sounds of light, for cycles and years of Light. The binary of Orion, is pre-born of the sub-mythological root, with binaries of Poetic Parapsychology, or Para-poetical; which is the trapezoid and the kinetics of the hunter Orion arrowing the Pleiades and its nebulous plains, with diametrical diarthrosis in his synovial joints, with the third militarizing joints already formed by the hyaline cartilage, which joins the two bones with the synovial fluid, before reaching the deltoid of Hunter Aurion, to awaken the Asleep world.

Vernarth in one of his adventures in Pella, scapula with his arms the force of the friction discs of the Olympics and corrected his hands and shoulders, for this purpose of Aurion and his dilettante Astro Betelgeuse, with giant arrows against matters towards the sky of its Constellation, embedded in beaten Odyssey and turpentine in the sullen Hellenistic, being for May its amber trapeze of trunk and arm, in each hand a Xifos and Dorus, always in right-handed hemispheric pathologies of their shrewd hands in Kopis swords, and in the memories of the wind that throws pain to the whistle of the combatant, when the meteorites decay in the Tyrrhenian Sea. With his brass-bronze club and Vernarth's corrosive breath, he proceeded to file odyssey on Eos's ******* and peduncles; Goddess of the Dawn, in Dionysian beauty in bulk, Mintaka, Alnitak, Alnilam, (The Three Mariah), For the twelfth lunation of the Celestial Vault, together with Pleione, in its bolometric Oceanid matrix; against borderline stellar magnitude in the major and minor dogs, and in there a priori waves of misdeeds lending measurements in the eyes of Aurion, always henchmen on their Pleiades.

From this intricacy, Cosmo-is born the Vernarth Duoverso incited towards the Horcondising, so that it is mythical co-property at the origin of the universality of the Duoverse in the Vernarth scapulae, bleeding towards the cosmos that was born from his stellar blood, conjuring chaos and uncertainty in messenger Gonies, facilitating community life free of ethnocentric, psychic, intersubjective life, the metaphor of myth and dogmatic, by the imaginary struggle that leads its bleeding back over the Cosmos, and its demiurgic brilliance over the atmosphere of the earth like bronzes that twist in the necks of oxen, that urinate on the officers of the Barnard Loop, and its polyphonic magnetic exciter, on it the ***** of Orion falling on the poles, like flagrant Amphibology.

The Kanti Steed and the Aurion nebula, to the beat of a waltz ionize, lavish chemical ions free of electrons, on the neutral molecules of Betelgeuse, to proclaim in the nerves of the shoulders and its bronze club, as musical praxis and harmony net, giving way to the nebula and the art of the Duoverso, which shows the pristine astral days, how his alchemical arm sprouting in chemo-astralities of the pectoral, and his armpit that joined in its maximum stick, cutting down roots of Olive Bernar, behind Barnard's Loops, in the midst of runaway stars that are systematized in their ionized bleeding esplanade, such as Stellae Novae, who retrograded the astronomical ritual into cosmogony, and in her escape by going at night to sleep near her father Poseidon and Euryale, who cheered him near the grassy fields to paste explosive clay on the sheet of his drunken smiley face with Ionic wine, in advance of spreading the nascent Duoverso throughout the new world.

r) Hyperdisis

Sitting on the edge of Andromeda, in his planetary chamber Zefián; The Duoverso computer separated the parasitic inter-chamber from the Duoverso, which would be born from the Auriga, which in his buggy would unleash the senses of structures and luminosity between this colossal interplanetary chamber. Being between points that venture through the axon of time infinitesimal and longitudinally for light-years, which even so, will intervene from the Duoverse, for thermal purposes and other changes of the remnants, when especially the luminosity will speak of the destruction of the darkness inherent in the eyes of the universe, which can only stabilize areas that have not been fused in the discs of the Universe-Duoverse spatiality, long before the initial explosive between the Constellation of Orion and Andromeda. Globular clusters that will make up the perfect delay of transfusing the blood and no other, which makes the character Hyper naming and hyper-pectoral blood, which flows from this tri-astral polynomial, compromising the method of area, shape, and refinement of the sagittal profile of Hyperdisis in the Duoverse in the reversible intergalactic plane. Going from lenticular to irregular over the keystone of the trapezoid, towards the right arm of Orion, where its radius becomes hypocentral sequentially, but it takes advantage of interstellar matter, to generate its own light. Some explicit explosive arms of Andromeda were expelled from their center towards the right arm of Orion, for the purpose of implosions in the effect of the clubs or snails, as a sublime effusion on other stars, which lost essential stellar mass, to differ from one another.

Radio-Patmos, or galactic energies of Andromedian origin, would arrive as devout prayers at the border of Skalá, such astro-omegas and Invisible Universes, which inhabit the flaccidity of the Universe of Consciousness of the pole contact with the Xifos or Kopis, when Andromeda contacts the spur of the clubs or snails, inciting the capos of Astro-Omegas spaces, which would begin to take the front and front, after having been the atrium of invisible stars, only visible in the spurs of the swords, which were only moistened with the viscous blood draining from Orion, towards Hellenic lands as Omega age, for Vernarth early when he carries the keys of the Omega World, towards the shadowy proto galaxies, knowing that the Milky Way and Andromeda come so close in their stellar mass, being able to collide in a few million of light years, in advance, since the Duoverse of Hyperdisis will be formed as a Galaxy of change, to interact with each other, dismembering, but re-transforming into the new speculative nucleus of the Duoverse as a great Black Hole, embedded in the Kardiá of Patmos.

Hyperdisis, navigates from the most ancient confines, from the origin of nothingness itself on the threshold of the Universe, but now it is already converted into the Duoverse, re-implanting itself in helical polarity, and in bifurcations of luminosity, of colorful reincarnations or astral, to consent to the cessation of darkness and valuing luminance, possessing colorimetry and chromatic steps of childish tales in infant galaxies, which in all the lives of Greece and Vernarth delivered for their ancestors, articulating the iconology of Orion, in candlesticks per square meter, in vigils of:

LV is the luminance, measured in Nits or candela per square meter (cd / m²).

• F is the luminous flux, in lumens for the Andromeda triad, Milky Way e Hyperdisis in conjunction with Orion.
• dS is the surface element considered in the triad of Kímolos, Rhodes, and Patmos.
• dΩ is the solid angle element, from Vernarth Omega and the origin of the Duoverse.
• θ is the angle between the diameter of Andromeda and the Milky Way (2.5 million light-years)

The luminance can be defined from the radiometric magnitude and the radiance without more than weighting each wavelength 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 the Vernath's eye of the Betelgeuse area below, dumping plasma and bruises on the galaxies and the Orion Eyes.

s) Zigzag Universe

The Zig Zag Universe was and will be excluded between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are driven within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zig Zag Universe, being born on a stellar night when Our life searched the earth, being able to see how cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the Bing Bang, emerging from another type of self-observation, seeing ourselves in the face of Horcondising anti-material and Universal Biomass. We preexist under science that models the system of energy and matter in causes of ancestors, with whom their vital and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made great paternity in the Vernarth Biomass, being in the Dodecanese, being cosmos in its arcuate curvature, which makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings, and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising and also time2-space2, which has not been troubled by the origin or abscess of the stars that move irregularly in zigzag, for the fractality of its component, which is clearly Aramaic blue light, in circuits of clusters and movements brushing the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso that is the Universe shaken and young of its gratitude's ".The distribution of nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macro waves, which are percentages of spaces in the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach of Gethsemane phylogeny, now tending to a stagnant decomposed future, towards a specific frozen present. Its final station is to bet the Zig Zag Universe on the re-expanding temporal Medieval chrestomathy, in gregarious qualities of Sub-mythology, already conformed here in Archangelos. The implosion of gravity has created worlds of visibility in great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light-years, as an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not, acquiring the hexagonality of the birthright in the passage, Here the Mashiach emerged and died in its abstraction in the One-dimensional Beams and in the foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortal and do not see with divine eyes in the self-resemblance, of our hypochondria and of the failed plan to amplify the size of the unknown analytic, of this new dimension in the implosive movement of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailed in their nature and in the natural infinity, here the privileged new world was envisioned, for self-similarity in the speculative and cosmogonic functions of Vertnarth, at intervals in each space of the shadowy walls, bringing accelerated courier bombs from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees to other humans. "Its correlation is an infinite fractal with reversible observable time.

Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the grove of the Duo-Universe as an alternative of energy Zig Zag and Duoverso, which triggers our subconscious observable world, which is a great reflecting lantern eye, which ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had, before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse and in Orion. Change from arduous colors to the gradient in Avant-Garde, for the confines of perspectives and verbality, in amendments of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macro waves, are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in reaction disturbances and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian cosmic. The double expression of macro waves and the equation of them over the axial of the universe turned into the universe Duoverse, in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion energy with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography in hyper diction will correct errors of the current universe, losing itself 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 all electro-matter " The double examination of the macro waves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography in hyper diction will correct errors of the current universe, losing itself in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all of them being more than time... !, remaining at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter. The sub-mythology having already been constituted, Hestia appears, having slept a great slumber. When he appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, he was seen changing in size, when he was six meters away he looked dwarf and when he was already two meters from him he looked monumentally huge, but in a versatile physiognomy, therefore he was already appreciated in his last steps, with her domestic Goddess figure that emanated light-years from the chimneys of the habitable galaxies. The critical immanence will happen, pre-existing of the perfectible plan for the Universe Zig Zag and Hyperdisis, as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of Vas Auric, which was in the great ratio of the proscenium in the vicinity of Tsambika, between Mind / Meditation for constant mechanisms of Wisdom / Meditate, according to the cosmological constant, taking them perhaps to the beginning of a decade and the third universe called Traverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated, and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which moves backward. among the dizzying lights of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units of millions of years of light compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, from the prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the Kardiá on fire and the passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", the omphalos stone, marking the navel of the world with the boast of wandering towards the island of Delos, in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils on her face, always walking to and from her virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only maybe there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterward. that his father swallowed it, and then it was expelled from himself, regurgitated in flames of love candles in a blessed house and full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with never contained angles, sliding vibratory between the distances that discount minutes of the Hestian space, for such a corollary by approaching its finitude, and inaugurating the sub-finite, that it will never be the source of the end of a disconcerting end of time, neither equationally consummated nor physical. "This consolidates the Duoverse into Duo-Universe, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-infinity)

t) Vernarth Omega (Ω) - Preface

before facing the Achaemenides. Being Omega and Micron in the warlike primer of their cause, within the prophetic in all necropolises of tiny omega (ω), towards an Omega that reaffirmed the good hand in Saint John the Apostle by rewriting the Apocalypse twice, coexisting the same but with the voice of Vernarth commanding the ten thousand Falangists, who made up inter-generational gaps, of camouflaged alien ancestors. For this purpose, he opened the windows with their pillars sheathed with tetrachloride of chlorine, at solid angles of Ω, in what was Virgo institutionum / Aurion-entity that interfered by projections and leaks, which converged on the strut of the omphalos of his heavenly father dealing frequently and bled his immortality, constituting from a helper being to the planes of subconscious reprogramming and perspective. With his arms raised, in each hand a raised sword to pierce the vanishing point, between the spaces that were ascribed, under the solid projection, from an observer that inhibits ad limits the biomass in all the masses of aqueous filter and lumen flow, towards the throne of the angelic guardian of Avant-guard by the stereotype and sclerosis of Zeus in his dissociated physicality, even though he is an amorphous entity with pulverized magnitudes, between Pi and Golden numbers, fading away without area or volume. Vernarth in the humanoid apocalypse was transfigured from a solid point in Hyperdisis, as a direct escape settlement to Aurion, towards a surface of conical vestige in three-dimensionality towards Andromeda, the Milky Way, and the shoulder of Betelgeuse,

Vernarth distracted the emeritus stars in the corner of his room and in the convex the points of his celestial patriarchs in the conical spheres of perenniality, leaving only solid angles in each of the two parts of space-delimited by two semi-planes that start from their common edge, under the ideal geometric concept and that it is only possible to partially represent it as duplication in parallelograms with a common side, symbolizing two half-planes, making from all distances seclusion of visions in the culmination of imagination and apparent angles, seen from any point of the Celestial Vault in invisible counterpoint.

The decalcified cells of Vernarth solfying together with Sophocles in orpheons after the victory of Salamis. Already being a tragedy in the next act of the prologue and their friendship bordering on his tragedy, he continues to exist in energetic arms to write, and Vernarth to dispute the characters from a regular prologue writing with his own blood hematology verses, which traveled meters and that they shrunk from the anti-verses scarring their declaimed intra-breath, in corals that only the wind clarifies of what precedes and happens towards the suffering, in the metrics of the Areimos chorus that were lectured anti-verses, and that they tried to ****** him from the hands to Sophocles, in immortality that refined him by abandoning him in sub-units. With masks and mythical cycles, he mixed the metaphorical facsimile of momentum and the separation of friendship with him, seeing him in an episode of his works, and instead of Vernarth's transcript sheltering him in the origins of the volatilizations of his orpheons, converted into physical waves of a dramatic-oracular order. Gods re-transformed into divination and futuristic germination, they were hidden dormant and forgotten in times of subconsciousness in the Selenite collection, felt in the Colossi signs of parliamentary, where the oracle leans on the lines of vibrational words and how they cough their " páthis "in the place where the language dissociated from the heart nucleus speaks. In misguided divination, the oracular mantic brought the cold of loneliness and the fiery heat that guesses in the laurel forests in oracular daphnomancy, Vernarth omega self-erects as a versatile column that temporalizes the threads of his organic brain, creating synaptic logos in Pashkein or the alert regret of abandoning the arm that rewrites his heroic Sophoclean and tragediographic biography, in ancients transiting in disintegrated emotionality and ****** Hellenic neurotransmission, "Two omega men or omega speedometers, carrying neurons from ankylosed and frustrated herd of pleasure, for tripartite meson form of routine grinding in Alzheimer's lost, lost in sympathetic and para-sympathetic routines, with probability of Hellenic gray matter; That is to say, of all memory that does not sin of ignorance in the ancient world, in more than nineteen hours of vehemence, the dangers will brighten when reliving nth times in the twilight of omega, Vernarth, was already narrowing on the tracontero Eurydice, to save his pains, deposed in terms that would renew anti-economies by supplying unsustainable in liquefactions and in synaptic melts, extra energetic vesicle of pure natural law of the eyebrows, of lunation that rests in the inter millennium, beating with ecstasy in the Buddhist suttas, and in the adaptation of the flesh of the hypersonic fissures of the Meltemi, and attachments that still beat over the dermis of pain. Vernarth draws his sword Xifos of phenomenal structure and he cuts on the Sutta or sermon that mimicked him at the time of the lunation, doing sabotage of redemption of the anti-verse from the court of Sophocles, as a myth-saboteur and anti-value, overvaluing the wiles of the same utilitarian tragedy, conquering in the curtain of mourning and sadness, unguarded and overcome by the stoic duel of jubilation. From here Vernarth, opens the gates of hell, eight hundred times going mad with omega value, by reiterating omeganymy, creates the numbering of the anti-verse and the suffering that does not even sleep further from the departure of a soul and a body only asleep of concave omega, overlapping in golden transfinite chests, which reorder the natural numerals with the ordinal transfinite omega, but on frictionless wheels of other omegas that break in recirculation rules on alpha, in supra omega levels such as parades, stamens, episodes, and Vernarth-omega paradigmatic exodus.

Omega I Prologue: "Once upon a time, amidst a rain of clouds full of drama, in a time that was oriented regime of the armpit of Betelgeuse and Aurion, 334 BC, it was the penultimate breeze of Tsambika, in the spiritual devotion that hovered over the unison voice in the magnanimous Zeusian chorus, as an alternate event of imprisoning past and next in an episode of the present act. The expectant was curious about the retouched makeup of the drama's superlative consonant, in a disembodied place, but with a good narrative source when it came to fruition. Here the myth is plausible, among everything mythical, more than all the super sums of expectations of the Ismo "

Parod I: "For the submissive words on the stage of the trident fire, where I have to warm my hands with ashes of eternal fire"
(Directing the scenes through the coripheum, there is the master lord who, in flames and by unequal numbers, pawned in the Aulos and piccolos, whose bare feet bordered the risk of the bellies of the Maenad damsels united in processions, between princes, powers and Dionysian dances holding on to the Pufios; in Baquian and ceremonial liturgy near Vernarth, taking a glass every seven minutes in animosity, in cages of his stuck little finger, whistling from organic pimping, next to dancers raising an arm and directing the palm towards the heaven, while the other remained down with the palm towards the earth; in this position, since he was like Vernarth buried by the tides of Patmos wandering him in times that marked the entrance from Mars to Jupiter, and from autumn to winter in fifteen times agreed with Sophocles, hanging from the penultimate to the entrance with his trembling voice desalted..., tolerating himself in his own tragedy)

This is I: "Through the right hemi-body, Vernarth intoned his laterality exposed in harsh penumbras, while Hera brandished over his existentialism clouds of oatmeal and candies in a liturgy, a homily that personified the Stasis, in the choral intermission resisting his angry hands in tragic passion and frenzy, unleashing oratory of self-blame, unraveling drama-tragic, and in each pause the emotion that was accompanied in new episodes when it was stoked "

(Vernarth says: "submitted in parts that are not its parts, my pain has blinded me, where it has embittered the conflict of ethical interest if the stars as a public cheer are anointed, sentencing the opposition of other lesser stars who cheer what that does not shine. The principle of the voice violates the normal parenthesis, which is governed by itself in the omega voice, mocking the modal in four magistrates, in martyrdoms of an ideal of the procession, each one being with his super-private toga, before me It must not be who recognizes if I will be who I am, on the seventh judgment of my surviving ethics)

Episode I: "Vernarth extrapolates the values of his judgment, which override the first, the coryphaeus directs his promenade from the countryside on his Horse Alikantus"

(Vernarth says: "I have instantiated the steps that my chestnut crossed with you in the future if I am to sing with a sorrowful voice, no choir will be able to follow me when you are gone. However, I have to define what personifies who, more than a thousand miles away, carries with him the lamp that opens the light of your roguish contemplation... "
Alikantus wailing says: "From the luster of your heartbeat, I obfuscated the jailer from your ribs, for the preference of the one who takes you even further in tempestuous pro-hedonistic prose "

Exodus I: "Sometimes the endings smell like fields of lavender, where the call of the almighty is heard, to take him over his loaded plantations, which are emerging from the dialogues in the afternoon with its twilight, as well as stanzas that smell of lavender anointing, separated in syllables and tonic that flex my charm, not to say that I was anointed with Lavender when I was prepubescent "

(In fifteen times, in syllables and rakes, the sentences of its paragraphs are sterilized, leaving the audience speechless, without a gesture or word that emanates from a sacred paradise, rather from the Stasis that never purged the omission of the syllable that is not of proscenium nor trident, but it is umlauts on Omega, between syllables of fire that burn from its proscenium)

With few and precise changes of consciousness, Vernarth approaches his Omega Point, as the end of his self is identical to his consciousness. He was leaving Tsambika and Kímolos, diligent towards Theoskepatis, warning Etréstles for defiance goods in the aftermath of the Eschaton. His spiritual cerebellum faded identically when he wandered through the distances of the entities that competed and are prominent, transforming his Hetairoi reliquary, here his tendentious impulse begins and dehumanizes him by becoming a Celestial entity, but with Noosphere endowment. The tendencies are established hyper-connected, with him Tsambika, Theoskepatis, and Patmos were triangulated for consummations and finality from the rudiment of Universal deity, reprogramming the end of restricted humanity to a mere boundary of dogmatic morality declared existential.

Within the Omega points, his unfolding acted as a disembodied statue and redemption of similarity and humanity, leading him to a self-conspiracy, by abandoning himself to his own equal, for the duration of the final sulfurous sublimation of the Cinnabar's margin of abstraction, after joining in all the quantum, physical and biological lines, making the Duoverse an inter chamber of the prior Master in a process of change, to sensitize his image of physical-chemical Man, but of God in his rigid powers. Cataloged as hommo sapiens who expresses himself in fallen beings under the arms of his sword in a limpid target, rather than in his own pointed tongue, and steely towards the point of unification in the hyper-dimensional of good achieve spatiality and volume, only contacted by his devoid of a Xifos hand. Consciousness rarely loomed in its compendium in nth bytes and data, much more than those recirculated in astrobiological quantum, creating blind exclusive and patrimonial universes, on the basis of nth bytes, which kept reorganizing itself in the personality of the unknown, fewer than four bridges of consciousness united in their own gregarious universe. The transcendence of the basic data of consciousness will lie in the Maenads, and their deliberate acre magic, extending through the limbs of the Nymphs, to re-possess it and take them to the confines of mystical paranoia, perhaps towards the embodied Vestal Virgins, purging their paths that they notice a variant of licentious departure in the stanzas when seeking final swings, which are not for the sake of shedding everything before the Universe rescinds its intellectual limitations, contracted in an orgiastic Imaginary Universe, and the precariousness of the concept transporting us to the origins of the species and its behavioral rapture of loss of sensation, and reason, for this reason, Vernarth takes them with him for his ******* and alienated perceiving of inherent reality and its opposite sunset. The ministry of the sacramental mystery is the consciousness of the Dionysian being in gestation, wanting to be the paroxysm of its equivalent, in an eternal Omega effect, for the purposes of omeganymy of conscious chaos, being the same portion of omega ad limit of its secondary reluctant personality of being, to found the hermit solitude on his revived empty ego, residing in his being by bilocating with two idiosyncrasies for a Venarthian Thiasoi, succumbing to weightlessness over all the Maenads and the intoxication of community in its opacity,

The madness was a transcript of reasons lost by the Vernarthian Omeganymy, sometimes the disproportionate of his steps by more than what should be generated was objected to in the circles of the Tsambika monastery. The unification of blood was confused by the viscous wine of the mysterious foliage of the Diospyros tree that led them through the enigmatic unaware, in primary practices that tore apart some somatized ones of the order of a third body, which still transmitted the last organic matter, refusing to spread at the omeganimic points. The consciousness of replicated beings of themselves challenged themselves towards the perfect copy of their transcendent alter ego, in an understanding of the present-future elucidating for whom or those who demystify the visions of an arbitrary creation, allied to the evolutionary myth-truth, in the face of any real and human maturity gap, the conclave of the near pious Christ, bequeathed in us and in the venerated hominization, at his sole and directional will. Now we are all in the aqueducts of Christian Science, for specimens of eternal categorization and frontally in view of a God-Mashiach, as ordinal inclusion and in greater ecumenical diversity, with variables of independence range, for staggering motor skills, retaining the attention of all the powers of the Christian world at an Omega point that seemed to be Alpha. The sense of the Duoverse in Vernarth Omega makes us rethink the central phenomenon of thought and frustrations, by the socialization of distant species from prudent dogmatic ostracism, towards refractory empathic and ultra-rational reasoning.

The supra intelligence has to become in them and those, the pre-existing point of duality, to reunify them in Patmos, as the only spirited meaning, and biomass evolving on the super-dimensioned materiality, in a greater radius where it will have to be delivered to whoever speaks with words. of living energy, and not complex towards all processes of emancipatory concord of personal authorship, on levels of relative lust in the absolution of medium integrity, and towards an elemental unitary totality of animal instinct guarded by the instinct of Being, that from its similar awakened rebirth of the sleeping mass matter, and in the animal purifying multiplicity. The man stands in his memorandum bend, like a haughty memorial, evolving in the cosmic expiration of the molecular transverse, admitting us in its vestige of complex extinction, but not in human slip, nor in acid and self-instituting scenery, on the real creation of its DNA, which reverts from the formality of helical reiterative rings, by heights of whoever oscillates in their coupled pairings, and their silent probable associations, in the nature of real origin and their structural perfection. The acceptability scenarios derive from the feasible concretion, and the approval of their tendencies and mobilizations of the structure of life, and codes greater than those that limit them to reside, to more than one body, residing from an incorporeal body, capable of its quantitative life and the extension of existence, super existing in the heights of the helical rings, which may vary more than they are, and which could be, without being seen under a scientific gaze. "Becoming a mechanics of maturation and prayer, which the energy from the material world to the spiritual, as a moving particle of inert matter in parasitized free radicals, which are re-energized by the mystery of the helical trans-threshold of the Aramaic mystery of the Olives Bern. "Vernarth disintegrates in omeganymy in laxity towards Aurion, descending pro-tenebrosity towards the profanity of Patmos, engulfed by Love in a dark summer, brushing the silos of DNA in the will of the automated world"
DUOVERSE
Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mount Crumpit,

He rode to the tiptop to dump it!

"Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" he was grinch-ish-ly humming.

"They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming!

"They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!

"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two

"All the Whos down in Who-ville will all cry BOO-HOO!"...



At the top of the mountain he untied his dog

From the sleigh. And the valley was filling with fog

As thick as the Who Hash he'd grinched just before.

He chuckled with glee at what was in store.

Now the Grinch grabbed the sacks from the top of the sleigh,

And with a mighty "HEAVE **!" he shoved them away.

The bags filled with toys well they weaved and they shook

With the weight of the things he so sneakily took.

Until finally momentum made things far less slow.

They fell 3000 feet to the jagged rocks below.

A sickening crunch and several sharp cries

At first startled the Grinch but caused him to realize

When he stole from the Whos down in Whoville his pride

Had gotten the best of him; he'd thrown some children inside.

He giggled maliciously, grabbed his dog Max

And got back in the sleigh, for he couldn't relax.

He had to go back, for his job wasn't done.

All the Whos down in Whoville, every last one

Every man, every woman, every daughter and son

Would be dead in their beds by the dawn of the sun.

The trip down Mount Crumpit was faster than up

As he growled to himself, "where's that ***** with the cup?"

He jumped off the sleigh, machete in hand

And marched straight into Whoville, whose gates could not stand

For the rage made him strong. How he hated the Whos

With their **** cheesy smiles, and their dumb pointy shoes,

Turned up noses and pigtails and hideous songs,

THE SONGS, THE SONGS, HOW HE HATED THE SONGS.

And now he'd make sure that the Whos sang no more...

At Cindy Lou Who's house he kicked down the door

And strode into the bedroom of Cindy Lou Who.

She woke with a start, murmured "Santa? That you?"

The Grinch, with a sneer, grabbed Lou Who by the hair,

****** her out of bed seven feet in the air,

And with two sharp knives pinned her arms to the wall.

Her screams roused her parents just down the hall.

They ran to their child to save her from harm.

The mistake that they made cost them each their right arm.

Writhing on the floor in their own ****** mess,

They looked at the Grinch in a state of distress.

"Why would you do this?" they managed to hurl,

"Please, you can **** us, just not our little girl!"

He listened to their pleas with a wry little smile,

He patiently heard them, then after a while,

He cut out their tongues with another sharp knife,

First of the husband, and then of the wife.

Then he turned to young Cindy with glee,

And hissed in her ear, "you'll do something for me..."

Cindy shook her head violently, but to no avail,

For the Grinch had the tongues on a rusty old nail.

He shoved them down her gullet. She started to choke,

Then she finally died, for the rusty nail broke.

He stepped over the body of mother Lou Who,

And the Grinch slithered over to house #2.

With this house he made quick work of the Whos.

He set them on fire to cure them of the "blues."

The blaze that resulted would spread down the street,

Drawing Whos from their houses like flies to dead meat.

A grenade waited for them in center of town.

A click, then a boom mowed, like, half of them down.

The other half attempted a weak attack.

With a Type-67 the Grinch kept them back.

The little Who children could do nothing but stare

In open-mouthed horror as the Grinch, without care,

Shot them down one by one till the snow was stained red,

And he would not stop firing till they were all dead.



And as the sun rose oe'r the grisly scene,

The Grinch drenched in blood of adult, child, and teen,

With a pentagram smack in the center of town,

And the tree in the middle would slowly burn down.

With the scalps of the Whos down in Whoville in hand,

The Grinch called his dog Max, who could barely stand

Because he was violently shaking in shock.

He could not even whimper, let alone walk.

Not a Who was left standing, not a song to be heard,

Save for that of a single Who bird

Which was quickly snuffed out by a single pistol round.

And after that there was not a sound.

The Grinch, his work finished, got back in the sleigh,

Cracked the whip over Max, and slithered away.

The last thing the poor town of Whoville would hear:

"If there's anyone left, well, I'll come back next year!"
Zigzag Universe says: "I am the space of Devananda" Way of God "and meditation. We know how a great inherited noun “de meditatio” has reflected on the ideas that are reconciled. My numen comes from the Greek Peltast mercenaries, creating survival in the contemplation of standing on those who are not in the fords of the breath of blood. We focus the mind so that the sheep that graze in the meadows fall upon us when we reconcile ourselves to somehow standing, waiting for them lectured here in Archangelos and in placebos of the bread-making gifts of the grasses. Obviously, stability allows us to get colossally on our feet and meditate where we have to sow hopes of meditation and work them with the pleasure of experience, which transports us on spirituality on the lips that are pronounced by the horses that graze, filling their bellies with the idiomatic hopes that transport us to the intellect and the conclusive horse. On the other hand, in contemplation there is more spiritual than intellectual character since it carries an experience and not a conclusion. Philo of Alexandria; Philo Judaeus, being a Hellenized Jew, is our mentor and philosopher star, born in the year 20 BC. He is contemporary to the era of our Mashiach, maker of everything and the neo-universe of Vernarth "Duoverso". The new universe of Vernarth being apologetic, Jewish and also Hellenistic therefore makes of our creator and all the theological creative thinking of all his creation. Divine providence and grace are and will be your superiors to have universal kinship with the Zig Zag Universe that migrated to Duoverso Zig Zag, for the providence of divine powers, who are in this range mercifully allowing and forbidding the splendid power of the royalty of Christian meditation manifested. Those of us who bear his goodness transformed into passion, we are the ones who create his theocratic rise, doing sovereign service, courage, joy and caution of human ethical satisfaction. We surround ourselves with our philosopher Philo for the diaspora, for the benefit and virtuosity of laws that emanate from the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem. The stoicism of democracies weakens the ungovernable powers of self-wisdom, they decay before those who ignore who they are and will be, under the symbolization of the supposed Jewish leadership of offering their children to the sacrificial altar ambivalently. The warmth of the afternoons in Tsambika increases the macro radius of our zigzag, binding the biblical pages with Platonic Greek philosophy and anti-material stoicism, with goods re-delegated to the natural good where it comes from. Our writings are the inspiration of the demiurge of the embodiment of a bakery recipe in the idea of the lowing of Zeus's stomach, with the solid dissatisfied discourse of not creating more bakery hectares for Stoics and demiurges. Although the thought of Philo permeated the fathers of the ecclesiastical epic, as in its origins in Alexandria, they will be Ambrose of Milan and Augustine of Hippo, with weak influence on the Jewish tradition, particularly in the rabbinic tradition that was born in one or two centuries after his death. Part of this is due to his use of the Septuagint (the Bible translated into Greek) instead of the Hebrew Bible and his allegorical interpretation of the Torah. His work also gives references to religious movements that have disappeared today, such as the Alexandrian therapists. Zig Zag was and will be moved away between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are propelled within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zigzag Universe, being born on a stellar night when it touched our life the earth, being able to see how the cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making of it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the bing bang, emerging from the other side of the car, observing us and seeing ourselves in the Horcondising face anti-material. We are science that models the energy and matter system in causes of the ancestors, with whom their life and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made us great paternity in Vernarth, being in the Dodecanese, being a cosmos in the curvature that makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the oaks of the Horcondising of Vernarth and also the time-space that has not been troubled by the origin or the inflammation of the stars that move irregularly in zigzag , for the fractality of its component, which is clearly Aramaic blue light, in circuits of cumulus movements skimming the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the sleeping universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso  that is the universe awakened and young of thanks "

Duoverso says: “My distribution of nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macrowaves, which are the percentage of the spaces of the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach phylogeny in Gethsemane, now lying in a stagnant decomposed future, in a specific frozen present. My final station is to place the Zigzag Universe on the re-expanding medieval chrestomathy, in qualities of Sub Mythology, already settling here in Archangelos. The implosion of my gravity has created worlds of visibility of great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light-years, like an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being science or not, acquiring from the hexagonality, the primogeniture of the passage that from Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism, in whose Original is attributed a fractal of the two-dimensional shape of a line of the Mediterranean fractal coast, resembling the gems of the crown of King David to that of the Messiah, seeming to be similes, but of irregular geometric formats. To build gems in landscape spines, basically subdividing themselves into equal conical funnels and then being randomly displaced towards their central point shared with King David's crown, recursively repeating it in each square until the desired level of detail is reached, in the curve that joins the landscape to Bethlehem and then to the Church of the shepherds in its fractured hexagonal base, simulating to be snow falling on the top of the roofs, wherein the Kafersuseh manger, the Mashiach was born and died in the abstraction of the Beams One-dimensional in foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortals and do not see you with divine eyes in self-likeness of our hysteria of the failed plan to increase the size in the unknown geometry of this new dimension in the implosive movement of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailed in their nature and in natural infinity. Here the new privileged world for self-similarity in the mental and cosmogonic functions of Vertnarth was envisioned, at intervals in each space of gloomy clouds, bringing accelerated bombs of messaging from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees towards other humans. My correlation is an infinite fractal with the reversible observable time and with the pattern belonging to mobile echoes of a space, which is occupied by Vernarth as multi-study and integers between fractional integers”

Hyperdisis: “Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the jungle of the Duo Universe as an alternative of energy Zigzag and Duoverse, which triggers our observable world what a great eye is, which ignores and knows extreme distant and focal parts of the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by my form of Hyperdisis escorting him. I go in arduous colors in gradient for its limits of positions of verbality, and solutions of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macrowaves are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in the fears of reaction and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian cosmic. Examining the double of the macrowaves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, already in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography of hyperdiction, is the correction of the error of the current universe, losing itself, in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time ... !, we are left at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter "

The sub-mythology having already been constituted, Hestia appears, having taken a great nap. When she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, she was seen changing in size, when she was six meters away she looked dwarf and when she was two meters from him she looked monumentally giant, but with a versatile countenance, therefore she was already appreciated in the last steps, with the domestic figure of a Goddess who emanated light-years from the chimneys of her habitable galaxies. The critical immanence that would happen would be the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and the Hyperdisis, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of Vas Auric, which was in a great proscenium ratio in the vicinity of Tsambika, between the Mind / Meditation for a constant mechanism of Wisdom / Meditant, according to the cosmological constant, leading perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called Triverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which goes backward advancing between the rapid lights of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units millions of years of lightly compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, in its Prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the heart of fire and of the passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", paved by the light of the clarity of faith of the owners of the hamlets that were founded when they arrived in Tsambika, in search of Vas Auric, cheering with the omphalos stone, which marks the navel of the world with the challenge of wandering towards the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils on her face, always walking to and from her virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only perhaps there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterward. to be swallowed by her father, and then expelled from himself, regurgitated in candle flames, of love in a blessed house full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with angles never contained, sliding vibratory between distances that deduct minutes from Hestian space, for the purpose of approaching its finiteness, and inaugurating the sub- finite, which will never be a source of termination in a puzzling end of equationally physical unfinished time. This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-finite)

Saint John the Apostle says: "Not even death recognizes the dimension of the universe when it detaches itself from the capsule of the body ..., less from the Duouniverse ..., making at night what is day and what is a day at night"

Vernarth says: “I am being reborn, the variety of times between myself and myself, are you. In my new creation and Duo-universality, with rules that angle my thoughts where my muscles did not reach. Today we are plagued by invasive objects of new creation, and in particular, I feel them bustling with the wrinkling of the strings of the balalaikas that I had in Moscow, with flat thoughts and now with flat atonements that I do not know, but my courage climbs where they fear me. be poor of feared value. Rather greater fear on a larger scale and related limits where infinite dramatic areas fade away almost make me an atheist in atheism. The ribs of time, gropingly, are oversized, in the ribs of the five-fold dimension of the Duoverse that imagines my curved, over-curved world, not knowing how to reach the line that allows me to know it head-on and full, on the coast of light that If now I see the Mashiach in Gethsemane, in the Olives Bern, walking straight ahead towards me, with another starting point going back, but I being in the creation that for God the light of himself towards the stars that are reconverted into stars, in all addresses calling each other. "
Zigzag Universe
Wearing comfortable clothing is what I desire

And if that is a purple g-string with a pair of high rise low cut shorts
You best say "good morning"

And if that is a pair of bell bottom jeans that do not press tight
against my hips with a long sleeve pink sweater
You ought to say “good afternoon”

If I please sugar in my coffee or no
coffee but instead a warm swif of chamomile
tea you best hand me the cup and show
brotherly love to your sister

If in my womb a child grows or I decide
It does not grow
You ought to stand by me but you best
leave that choice to me
Roe vs. Wade making its way back into the court matters. It would mean a lessening of womxn’s rights in the U.S.

You may hold different opinion on this matter and on abortion. However, everyone’s life is different there is no one way life unfolds just look around you. The world and someone’s life does not follow a linear or predictable narrative. I believe with all my being that if we seek to control and choose what a woman can and cannot do with her body (something we do not do federally for men) we take away her choice, we lean away from neutrality, but in a deeper sense we in act violence upon those whose lives and thinking are unlike our own. So then the question becomes do we want to continue to treat one another this way? Do we really want peace and compassion? Even when it hits home and is uncomfortable and may push you to think beyond your own experience make room for it. Look at this world for what it is and open your heart with compassion for every human being who lives a life unlike yours.

I stand behind women having a choice to choose.. I stand behind Roe v. Wade.
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
The happy medium tea astrologer
Her tea leaves Google her anytime
Tea leaves of her poems

Another divine tea party just ask
Her lady of the Queen-dom
The fee for fun I'm in with
the mad crowd tea on the run
The tea party is getting loud
Eating those bonbons dreams
start to steep and stir he had his
overflow the house of Bel Air
Meet the Prince passionate
purple rain

Your cake and tea lips became a pain
You couldn't get a wink of the full
body flavor sleep

She’s the Subrosa tea worshipper

TEA TOUCH HER
TEACUP 1/2 TEARS
Her power not to push her moving
away from all the fears and years
Did the cat get your tongue?

He watches her in her sleep
He sees her tea eyes awake
All women stalk and tea talk
So much to write with tea poem

In France dark roast coffee
the secret competition was
my tea blend the winner raffle
It is au fond to be gratefully
Please don’t bottle Snapple
Remember you have the potential all
green money
but your eyes doorway he walks out
with your money? ahh

“Alltheformores” Tea tree lady calories
O-MY-God!

Mr.Tea toucher agent man
He keeps his right-hand
driving and the other hands Mmm…
Eyes ahead and hands on my tea
The green Emmy with poison ivy
She is the cherry pie of the black
cherry tea lie

How sneakily she buttered our cups that
butterscotch
How the seducer reducer tea she ******
up to him.

That secret’s its written in junk
buy one exotic hot-shot blend of
tea has her wits and
character and *****
So you don't stink like a rat pack
Eyes like an old tea bag
On a plane getting jet lag
smelling like a skunk

The green bull-eyes  army combat
trained always complains when
tea attention no baby blues
the green envy eyes
twice a week
tantalizing tea flavor vanilla
Godiva
On the Orient Express
Her tough exterior like a boss
not to cross
get involved with her assistant

She never brings the secret
flavor coffee on time and my tea is
Like a fortune cookie in rhymes
what tea business show business
homes ((Madhouse Paparazzi))
Eating hot sauce Ronzoni  half- Gothic
Sensual tea blend **** Bill ******
wouldn’t want to be anywhere
close to her dreams twice
Like a flower the subject Rosa
a petal of her tea

How can anyone see
through her spectrum
of colors scaring her face?
  That Madonna rebel heart of teas
Papa starts to
preach our teas
confessions
How did we touch tea leaf nerve?

Heres exactly what you deserve

Don’t we have an hour?
Tea demonstration of women's
hot boiling teas how the men
go down on their knees
When she wiped the steam off
she could see his face tea leaves

MADLY TEA PARTY OF SECRETS

Like those Rebel of Robin bird hearts
teacup of more tears
Going to the Spa that sauna
really drenched her
she was thinking of him.

How many secrets can we reveal?
Let’s not worry how we see through
peoples face as they stir their spicy tea
We all get a chance to take our last sip
of your lover’s tea

Tea Victorian could flower petal anyone's
thoughts hot-headed or over
Her iced ways or flaming her name
Ginger honey bear deeper the love affair
Her spiritual awakening transformation
Teavana or tea mint just another secret

TEA TOUCH HER TEACUP

1/2 hearts new start
She got mad but kept her cool to blush
her moving away from all the fears
who cares when we have the tea
forming to tears
it shows how we really are

She loved the shades of Japanese garden
So green suited her tree-lined block
Her pink sofa with such greenery
as her visions came strong he was there
All the time in her musical blend song

Whats in my drink, see her face
anxiously, what awaits, see her
through an ****** painting,
how it drips in a
Native-land Naples Italy
Those teacup puppies and French skirt
She narrow's anyone street you cannot
get anyone
To taste her tea for the couple beat
The museum addictions like an art
Colesium  the built for speed of teas
/Medium Astrologers/**** sipping
Watching the beauty of the statue's
Micheal Angelo, the musician playing
his Cello at least her teas weren't that
wiggly green jello

So Iced Queen tea spice
Romeo
Hello-Poetry
The exotic tiger Bengal teas
she roars in her jungle
poet clean mint tea
healthy gals
antioxidant
Green planet rocker leather
how his pants spread to the tip of
the shining armor book
she kept tight-lipped on you

She felt dragged how you were tied
secretly fit into her teacup
engraved ankle

Lips got damped tea flavors all limited
needed to give him
my special pampering all tramps
and tea thieves green shimmering
blend her best teas
Chai teas cinnamon girly

And the others Green 50+++ shades
deeper body vibe
Became mermaid blowfish tribe
Where like the Italian made
leash warriors
Roman empire ordered
a death wish

Tea secrets now or present
too smitten kitten tea gloves
and he was saying
I must have an heir,

Could fool anyone’s millionaire *** plan
became the butler’s on the deep-end
Madly tea taking the bad stick
such a plea
another scorching Porshe wrong coffee
tongue those mermaids turned the darkness
Grunge black side of their tea

Madly have eyes for you wilderness of
hearts deliciously
exposed
The pinball got caught too many sticky buns
they bit into___?

Those butler quarters was he going
to improve
all her secret’s wave of tiredness,
too much nickel and dime tea shops
She tried to subdue her situation
Barhops tea sips and she had away
by stirring her lips
Would she pay for her sins later?

Surfing the computer emailed or tea for two
mailed in a compromising tea imported love
what about tomorrow tea tears of sorrow

Let’s not focus too much on secrets
of forgotten yesterday

All her troubles so far away from Ireland
Or Liverpool London every tea bag
went nowhere
Yesterday song went everywhere imported
like her foreign exchange trade of teas
a mad tea party
no Alice Odd Moms invited


Tea Toucher ruling the world with magic

What’s really ringing, on the surface,
those terrible two teenagers? Something they
lost became tragic
Sage Tea-lady of Mount Fiji spice
Those greener then life mountain
tops to climb

How she opened his horizon to fan him on

over the media tea seduction escorted

Impression’s of intoxicating herbs imported
mermaids too many tails to slam
Strawberry field black tea forever with Beatles
Robin Bird of “ROOBUS, she was red devil blend
let’s trade  or swap some ****** teas for a tease

That madly kind of seduction
She has it all in her, patch sachet smells,
of ****** pleasure spices up words.
What is the reason for all this?
We never beg they gave
her a poem with a tea hug
Madly for anything but when we fink of tea does it relax you or feel like a tranquilizer or looking out of your bay window to see the sunrise well this is a tea blend story poem like no other relax let your tea kettle whistle Robin tea-bird is on your sill
requiEM Feb 2017
Sapphic sapphires glisten in the moon
These ladies say that Hades makes them as dry as a sand dune
Maleficent and Cruella mark their spells on their heads
And quietly they tiptoe and sneakily their treads-
Move with a rhythm only grace can create
Enchanting are these women, seeing them is fate
To be an audience member to their auras and their moves
Is an opportunity that is divine, spiritually proved
Indigo in color, L words leave their lips
Straight and curvy bones and fat   vibrate from their hips
They mesmerize, they enchant, they let their inhibitions soar
Until they dance away, unhinged, and you can't see them anymore
Remember this encounter, it is one that will inspire
It will make you feel a type of way, it will ignite a fire
I read the word 'sapphic' and it alone inspired this entire poem
Pagan Paul Jan 2019
.
Morfine and Choklut were trapped,
searching for a sword,
they somehow hit a dead end
and were being attacked by fear.
The fear of being Lost.
But Choklut had an escape plan
“Quick!” he said “head for stanza 4,
we have some friends waiting there”.

Kelm was a difficult child.
“Ten green woggles round ten boy-scouts necks,
ten green woggles round ten boy-scouts necks,
and if one green woggle should accidentally
be ripped from the throat by a giant killer wolf,
there'll be nine green woggles round nine boy-scouts necks”.
He sang,
as he pulled the legs off a centipede.
He wanted a worm to go fishing,
but couldn't be bothered to dig.

Jerrica also sought a sword.
She was a Princess!
But she had a point to prove.
A very deliberate point about girl power.
Girls can go adventuring too!
She championed Girlyism.
'Herb up your life!'
Her favourite slogan.
Why was it always a sword?
It was just so … fallick.
Why not a magick singing cup?

They waited. And waited.
Then they lurked about a bit.
They waited and lurked for ages.
Then they went down the Tavern.

The words ******* and sheep
crept into his little mind.
Though not necessarily in that order.
It happened when he met Bruce.
Bruce was on Walkabout.
Kelm was fishing by the river
and was thinking his luck would change
if he fished in the river.
That must be where the fish were hiding.
Bruce had walked straight passed Kelm
as he was watering a tree.
He zipped up and slapped the tree.
Bruce had an accident.
“Geez mate, I thought you was a croc”.
Kelm suddenly felt intellectually superior
“Its salt water, so I'm an alligator”
he paused “or a camen”.

Morfine and Choklut missed stanza 4,
had slid right through 5,
and slapped 6 right in the face.
It got in a huff and walked away …

Jerrica put out her herbal cigarette,
she took her slogan seriously,
today's herb was marjoram.
Now she was hungry
so she wrote the word 'lunch'
on  a piece of paper.
And swallowed it.
Completely veggie and only 3 calories.
Jerrica flinched when she saw the males.
The first – late teens, silly shorts,
carrying an Abbey Winters catalogue.
The second – pre-teen boy with a big stick.
She sneakily approached, circuitously,
she could hear them talking.
“Maybe I'll turn you into a pair of shoes”
“I think a clutch bag would suit you more mister”
“My name is Bruce” said Bruce.
“Bruce? Kinda boring name
for a fantasy farce poem isn't it?”
“Oh yeah. I suppose you got given a better one?”
“I” stated the boy “am Kelm the Barbarian”
Bruce felt sobriquetiously inadequate.
Jerrica watched.
And asked herself girl questions.
About boys.

It seemed there was a lack of interest,
nobody wanted to know their story.
Morfine and Choklut couldn't find
a welcoming stanza anywhere.
Its seems they were all full.
Dejected they trudged to a Tavern.

As she withdrew she wondered
'What is the ****** point of boys?'
It was during her retreat, circuitously,
that she found a Poet.
He was underneath a rock,
so she put him in her breast pocket,
for safe keeping.
Boys were useless, but Poets were useful.
They knew all about love and romance.
And for some reason
feather pens excited Jerrica.

After a long day waiting and lurking
Shadow Boxer had got drunk,
tipped a serving girl a wink,
and retired to bed.
Slim Grainy was drinking alone.
He was rather miffed.
All that waiting and lurking in stanza 4
and his mates hadn't shown up.
Maybe Shad had had the right idea.
Drink and bed.
The door of the Tavern opened,
his friends walked in.
Morfine saw him and smiled
and greeted him with a hiya.
Slim fixed him with a baleful look and spoke
“Of all the stanza's in all the poems,
you had to walk into mine”.

Somewhere under a bridge too far
an anxious troll shook and shivered.
He wouldn't make it. He would never recover.
Why had he agreed to hear their story?
3 ****** days to tell 3 ****** segments
of a quest that could have been summarised
in 3 ****** phrases.
Went there. Found it. Came home.
Over egging the pudding.
Spinning a pointlessly long yarn.
A thought struck him,
in the head.
A rare occurrence for a troll.
He was going to devour
Morfine and Choklut.




© Pagan Paul (11/01/19)
.
2nd poem in my 'Strange World' collection.

Part 2 out soon!
.
Julia Betancourt May 2017
you don't understand how much faith i have in you, maybe how much faith i have just in people in general.
it's a whole ******* lot, and all they seem to have done is prove me wrong; that i should not have trusted them that much, that i should not have believed them that much, that i shouldn't have had that much faith.
i shouldn't have faith.

almost all of the time now i can think only about the people who have left me, and not because i'm not over them, but because they aren't bad people. they're just not. so what if they decided they did not want me in their life? that’s their decision to make, not mine. never mine.
i cannot judge anyone for walking out when there is always a door in the first place, isn't that what they're used for anyway?
everyone has the right to leave me whenever they want, and i simply cannot complain.
maybe i can criticize them on the way they do it, how abruptly, or quietly, or suddenly, sneakily, if they lock it on their way out or not, i don't know.
but i can’t blame, condescend towards them just because i may not agree with what they want for themselves. it really doesn't matter who i am, it doesn't matter what i do for anyone. i can give them the world, or i can give them nothing but a night’s worth of affection only because i care to make myself feel pleasurable, either way, they have every reason to get the hell away from me.
then i start to think, well, what about me?
does it really even matter anymore to make my way up in the world and try to give off love just as much as i’m never granted it? well, i don't know the answer to that, either.
i know it isn't my fault. but that's exactly the thing; it's nobody’s fault. no one can be held accountable. no one can be blamed. so sure enough i just ask myself where the hell all my tears fell down to. you know, like, what was the point of crying in the first place?
and it's scary to think, people shape your views on love, even though i always tell my friends “don't let anyone ruin your outlook”, they shape it anyway. maybe they don't ruin it, but they determine how you determine it for yourself. not through control, but through the experiences they now pass onto you. you can't erase a memory. they become a part of your life, i don't care what anybody says. they're still there, always, because they're the one who made you feel differently about a certain color or the way the sky looks or why people **** themselves or why this answer is that answer and how that answer gets you this answer, and so on. they change the way you see some things, and those “some things” somehow change everything else, change you.
people say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, well where does love lay? in the hands of humans who have utterly destroyed just about every single little thing they've touched with their fingers?
what did we create, or, recreate?
we made a monster out of love, a death sentence, a punishment, a curse, a drug, a killer.
what the **** did we do? and why?

there is one person left, one person who can prove me wrong for believing everyone will always continue to prove me wrong. i want them to prove me wrong. show me that not everyone is going to take away my faith.
that fate, maybe, i don't know, exists?
are some things just a word in the dictionary?
i want them to prove to me what everyone keeps on telling me when yet another soul walks another hundred miles away from me, that i “give good energy” so one day i must get it back.
prove to me that, my love, is maybe not just worth something temporary? is that possible?
does anything really last forever?
again, i don't know. i don't know much of anything.
will you just show me?
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
I am pure subjectivity
I am objectivity contained by a brain
I am an entity
Inside a body
I control my limbs
And my organs control me
The apparatus for my entity

I am a being that seeks understanding
While remembering who I stand under
Those who sneakily seek to plunder
The developing enigmatic wonder
In my mind's torturous tundra

My mind uses my body as a slave
But is also a slave to the shame
Of my body's interactions
Within marginalized factions
There is a fight between the two
Like the fights between me and you
My body won't quit when my mind is through
And my mind stays conscious while my body is blue
So I'm stuck in a deadlock
With a mentality of bedrock

Once I cease to be human
I can be the perfect judge
When my emotions won't budge
I'll see things the way most organisms do
Inside this zoo
Animals have the flu
And give it to each other
When we communicate through pain
The flu actually seems tame
Compared to your game
Of taking humanity
And leaving an entity
After you entered me
My somber soul left
Because of personality theft

My mind moves my arms
To block the pain
My mind moves my feet
To do the same
Yet I lost these advantages
When I had to walk too far
My life only got more hard
After experiencing your entropy
I became a disembodied entity
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
https://www.amazon.com/Icy-Andrew-Rueter-ebook/dp/B07VDLZT9Y/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Icy+Andrew+Rueter&qid=1572980151&sr=8-1
The Zig Zag Universe was and will be excluded between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are driven within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zig Zag Universe, being born on a stellar night when the earth touched our life, being able to see how the cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the Bing Bang, emerging from the other taste of self-observing and seeing ourselves in the face of the Horcondising anti material And Universal Biomass. We preexist under science that models the energy and matter system in causes of the ancestors, with which their life and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made us a great paternity in Vernarth Biomass, being in the Dodecanese, being the cosmos in the arcuate curvature that makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising and also the time2-space2 that has not been afflicted at the origin or in the abscess of the stars that move irregularly in zig zag, for the fractality of its component, which is clearly aramaic blue light, in circuits of cumulus movements brushing the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso that is the Universe shaken and young with gratitude’s "

The distribution of the nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macrowaves, which are percentages of the spaces of the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach phylogeny in Gethsemane, now lying in a stagnant decomposed future, in a frozen present specific. Its final station is to stake the Zig Zag Universe on the re-expanding medieval crestomatia, in qualities of gregarious Sub-mythology, already settling here in Archangelos. The implosion of my gravity, has created worlds of visibility of great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light years, as an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not, acquiring from the hexagonality the primogeniture of the passage, which from Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism, of whose Original fractal is attributed in the two-dimensional shape of a line of the Mediterranean fractal flap, resembling the gems of the crown of the King David to that of the Messiah, appearing to be similes, but of irregular geometric formats, to build gems in landscape spines, basically sub dividing into equal conical funnels, and then being randomly displaced towards its central point shared with King David's crown, recursively repeating it in each square until the desired level of detail is reached, in the curve that joins the landscape to B ethlehem and then to the Church of the Shepherds in its fractured hexagonal base, figuring to be snow falling on the cusp of the roofs, where in the Kafersuseh manger, the Mashiach emerged and died in the abstraction of the One-dimensional Beams in the foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortal and do not see it with divine eyes in the self-likeness of our hypochondria and the failed plan to increase the size in the unknown analytic of this new implosive moving dimension of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailing in their nature and in the natural infinity, here the new privileged world was envisioned for self-similarity in the speculative and cosmogony functions of Vertnarth, at intervals in each space of shadowy walls , bringing accelerated bombs of messaging from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees to other humans. "Its correlation is infinite fractal with reversible observable time, and with the patronal belonging of mobile echoes of a space, which is occupied by Vernarth as multi monograph and integers between the fractional integers”

Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the grove of the Duouniverse as an alternative of energy Zig Zag and Duoverso, which triggers our subconscious observable world, what is a great reflecting lantern eye, which ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the Beams One-dimensional of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse and in Orion. Change of arduous colors in gradient in Avant Garde, for its confines of perspectives of verbality, and of amendments of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macrowaves are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in the reaction disturbances and recreation of multiform plasmas of Christian cosmic savior. Examining the double of the macrowaves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, already in millions of light years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography of hyperdiction, is the correction of error of the current universe losing itself, in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe,but all of them being more than time ...!, remaining at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter "

The sub-mythology having already been established, Hestia appears, after having taken a great nap. When she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, she was seen changing in size, when she was six meters away she looked dwarf and when she was already two meters away from him she looked monumentally huge, but with a versatile physiognomy, therefore it was already appreciated in recent years. Footsteps, with her domestic Goddess figure emanating light years from the chimneys of her habitable galaxies. The critical immanence that would happen would preexist 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 Vas Auric, which was in a great ratio of proscenium in the vicinity to Tsambika, between Mind / Meditation for Wisdom / Meditant constant mechanism, according to the cosmological constant, taking them perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called Triverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range; therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which goes backwards advancing between the dizzying lights of creation. Immediately afterwards, the Universe is torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units of millions of years of light compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, in her prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the heart of fire and of the passion of consanguineous love, “Prytaneum”, smoothing the light in the clarity of the faith of the owners of the hamlets that were founded when they arrived at Tsambika, in search of Vas Auric, cheering with the omphalos stone, that marks the navel of the world with the challenge of wandering towards 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 virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only maybe there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterwards. that his father swallowed it, and then it was expelled from himself, regurgitated in flames of love candles in a blessed house full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with never contained angles, sliding vibratory between distances that discount minutes of the Hestian space, for such a corollary of approaching its finitude, and inaugurating the sub-finite, which will never be the source of a term in a disconcerting end of time that is not equationally physical. "This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-finite)"
Zig Zag Universe / Part 19
Poetic T Jul 2016
She gave me a daisy with a smile, so much care
to not let these frail peteals fall.

"Daddy dearest I give you this as a token of
what I see in you,


"In me my little petal, what do you mean so,

She smiled and ran off into the garden a chain
of daisies was her creation on the table little hands
did do there magic and after what was a long time
two little hands and a curious mind created magic
in her eyes.

"Daddy you have the daisy still,

She smiles seeing that her daddy had kept the little
flower safe from harm not crushed or lost.
No it was in pride of place in her daddies shirt pocket
pocking gently out of the tiny button hole.

"Of course you gave it me my little daisy,

Her father picks her up and gently rocks her back and
forth. Her eyes wonder around the surrounding till
they close like curtains on the world. Hours pass and
she awakens to see her daddy cuddling her fast asleep.

"Daddy wakey wakey, rise and shine sleepy head,

He slowly awakens to rising arms and a almighty
yawn, She sneakily tickles his underarm and he lets
out a half yawn half giggling laugh.

"Cheeky little madam,

Laughter ensues while her dad chases her around the room.

"Petal what did you mean when you said you see me
in the daisy every day?


She smiles and holds her daddies hand placing another
daisy in his hand, composing herself she explains.

"Daddy each petal is a the amount of times you make me
smile each day, and the centre is the love I see in your
heart everyday,


"So this one is the all the smiles I have made you see?

Looking at her daddy she smiles.

"See daddy that's another petal you have given me,

"This one daisy is just the smiles that have blossomed
today since we woke up and laughter made more,


She jumps off her daddies lap and runs off into the
garden, daddy sits there a tear slowly falls down his
face she had made him happy with tears.

Calling him into the garden, telling him to close his
eyes as she steers him where she needs him to be.

"Sit down daddy please,

He sits down slowly so not to embarrass himself by
falling off the chair before he had even sat down.
Sitting she says  "No peeking daddy its a surprise.

Eyes tightly shut hand over so no peeking can spoil
a little petals surprise that awaits her daddies eyes.

"Open up daddy this is what I made for you,

He opens his eyes and see a daisy chain that she worked
so ******* before. "What's this my petal,
She smiles from ear to ear as she ever so gently puts this
piece of work over her daddies head, it hangs so delicately
on his shoulders and then she tells him what it means.

"Daddy everyday I give you a daisy,
"This chain represents all the smiles and love that you have
given me every moment of ever day and this is just a symbol
of how many times you have done that this week,


He smiles and starts to cry,  "Its ok daddy boys can cry too,
Hugging her he tells her that he is so happy and cant believe
what a beautiful little petal he has got in his life.

"Today petal gave me a daisy with a smile, and I cried,

She is my the little lady in my life, my daughter makes me
proud to be a father each and every day my petal..
Slur pee May 2016
What happened to our avocado tree?
I remember when it was vibrant and lively
When lizards would sneakily climb up the trunk
And birds would blend with leaves,
Blissfully chirping, wanting love to be sung
To the world in which we would run
Encapsulated in our backyard
That we thought would stretch as far
As our imaginations.
But it was really just a prison
And that tree...
That beautiful, wondrous tree
Was our sign that we were free
Wanting to climb up as far as we could reach.
It seemed to scrape the moon
And the nights were always gone too soon,
Losing all of our wishes to the sun
When the morning would come.
Evaporating into reality,
We grew up and it started withering.

In our teens, killing flower buds
Smoking all the weeds,
Not getting enough hugs.
We'd find comfort in its leaves.
Hiding from the devil in smoke and memories
Of our avocado tree.

Then we had to leave,
Ripped apart from all we loved
My childhood home, all the feelings that have grown
Like vines, like veins branching out against the walls.
Remember the old days when we thought that there was hope?
We didn't know that we were so dysfunctional
Everything good is gone,
And we've ended up all alone.
Down to three withered leaves clinging to a dying tree.

My avocado tree,
Remember me?
In my mind eternally.

-SLuR
So there was this boy
He somehow kinda managed to steal my heart
Without even trying
He intrigued me
I began observing and seeing more than he let on
And slowly but surely, the compassion grew
Along with the lust, desire and craving of all things him.
It's been a couple of months now
And I lay here in bed thinking about how dumb I am to have let it get this bad
How could you let someone control you
So sneakily
Without even needing the puppet strings
All it took was the touch of his skin against mine, the smiles, the glances
That's all it took for my chest to burn a fire so bright
Melting my heart
And I was a goner.
Now the chase is over
You know how I feel
And you're waiting for me to beg for more
Act needy?
I think not
I see how this will end.
Though the clouds are still grey
The rain spitting
And the storm rumbling
There is
ALWAYS
A rainbow
And a sunny day that awaits
So keep your chin up, little girl
And wear your pride on your chest
Bc this bullshitting *******
Is no different from the rest
Nick Jan 2019
There is a kingdom that resides in the sky,
Whose cool demeanor hold all upon high,
There be darkness within these walls,
Shadows to cause all to fall,
King makes his decrees,
Assasins plan sneakily,
Bell of thunder,
Of loud dismay,
Upon this altar,
Demons will rise,
To waylay all plights,
With great surprise,
Silence,
Then screams,
Innocence screams,
Terribly so,
But here comes the hero,
Bobbing to and fro,
Slash right then left,
Block left then right,
Sword clangs ring out,
Complete silence all about,
The darkness is dead,
Laid upon the battlefield,
Bled,
All will mourn the lost,
Was it worth the cost,
Peace throughout the land,
The king rewarded the merry man,
With fire,
And a wooden stand,
Burned at the stake,
A heroic man
Let me know what you think.
Eight years old or so
I'm condemned to a joke
but I never understand the punchline
I just figure it's all a hoax.
Padded cells and restrained holds.
Perspex acrylic windows
render my spit useless.
My captors are fully grown
but I've seen the breadth of their moral compass
They will fold on it shortly now, I know they will.
Though they never do.

I'm fifteen years old give or take
when I lose my first child.
It was never born, but I know I wanted it.
I pretend I am not sure because
there's a lot of heat and pressure
cooking my heart, engulfing my head.

Crying over the phone to my girlfriend
a painful necessity, something my soul needs.
We are too young, careless, reckless,
confused and surrounded by ogling eyes.
I haven't had a lump of hot coal in my throat before
but it sure feels like I have when I try to speak.
Especially with my parents.

Pause, rewind
I'm six years old,
my younger sister is four,
my youngest is two.
My dad enters my play room.
Proceeds to tell me he's leaving home.
He won't be living with us anymore
but he'll always be my dad and
I'll always be his favourite and only son.

Dry my eyes and fast forward, please.
A little bit past devastation,
we'll stop somewhere around reckoning.
It's right after desperation.
I am fifteen years old again, some time has passed
since my unborn child left its mother
as nothing more than matter and blood.
The mother has left me.
Probably because
she was in even more pain than I
and wanted to confide and find comfort
anywhere else but in me.
I never could heal the wounds I helped to create.

It's time for work experience, I'm sixteen soon.
That's practically an adult in the UK
I get to work Queens' College May ball.
Maybe this time everything will be okay.
Shadowing sound technicians.
Sneakily drink the free *****,
since I always look much older.
Sun rises, I'm drunk and my mouth is dry.
I think I'll walk home.

Mum picks me up, I don't even remember why.
My hometown is only five miles across
I've travelled the best of it and then some.
Yet my gaze never left the sky.
I want to escape myself so badly I leap from the moving car.
I'm crying in the car one minute,
I'm crying on a roundabout of a dual carriageway the next.
The police arrive and mum's crying now.
Begging never worked before but this time it does.
The police officer says something about section one three six
and I am taken.

Whilst I wish I could have realised sooner,
I think I get the message now.
Perhaps I was never meant to achieve great things.
Or ever meant to find happiness in my life.
It could be that I was never meant to be anything
other than what I am and what I am
is the embodiment of sadness.
Unhappiness is tangible around me.
You can feel it, touch it and see it.
I can taste it and smell it, I breathe it.

It's me.
Me and me alone, surrounded by faces but alone.
The thought of loneliness is lonely indeed.
When thoughts are just emotions' greed
and it's our own expectations of life
that make it harder to succeed.
I've travelled cold, a road with no milestones.
Only icy tipped hurdles that are mountains
and I can't catch my sadness,
and I can't catch my breath.
So there was this boy
He somehow kinda managed to steal my heart
Without even trying
He intrigued me
I began observing and seeing more than he let on
And slowly but surely, the compassion grew
Along with the lust, desire and craving of all things him.
It's been a couple of months now
And I lay here in bed thinking about how dumb I am to have let it get this bad
How could you let someone control you
So sneakily
Without even needing the puppet strings
All it took was the touch of his skin against mine, the smiles, the glances
That's all it took for my chest to burn a fire so bright
Melting my heart
And I was a goner.
Now the chase is over
You know how I feel
And you're waiting for me to beg for more
Act needy?
I think not
I see how this will end.
Though the clouds are still grey
The rain spitting
And the storm rumbling
There is
ALWAYS
A rainbow
And a sunny day that awaits
So keep your chin up, little girl
And wear your pride on your chest
Bc this bullshitting *******
Is no different from the rest
--- Aug 2013
The shadows move slowly
Sneakily
So you don't notice them.
The shadows move quietly
Leaking into your subconscious
And eating you from the inside.
They leak into your thoughts
Poisoning your mind with dreams of pain
Hate
They slowly move to cover your face
They slowly move to cover your mind
They silently strike
And poison your soul.
A shadow creeps into your mind even now
Seeding the painful thoughts and actions
Which will drive you to hurt yourself and others.
Ruining a day for no reason at all
Forcing a night into sleepless torment
Always next to you
Always surrounding you
Hiding from the light
Owning the night.
Fight these shadows
Drive them away with joy
Love
Light
Happiness
Compliments
Laughs
Lazy days in the sun
Kisses
Fight these shadows
And rid the world as best you can.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2015
Listen my children
And you shall hear
How the USA
Went suddenly queer.
Not the kind of
Gays making love
But the kind the where hate
Rained down from above.

First there was Tricky ****
A special kind of an ***
Who robbed our fine country
Of any appearance of class.
Carter tried as hard as he could
In one term to put it all back
But all too soon started smoothly
Reagan lied him off the track.

With our economy in ruin
Reagan slunk off in fame
With voters with half a mind
Blindly, they fell for his game.
Eight long years later, then,
And we were nearly broke
With stupid citizens old and young
Still falling for the joke.

So, Clinton showed up and made
The Great Prevaricator look sick.
After seven years of fixing things
The GOP went after his ****.
Since they couldn’t fault his success
They really had no quarrel,
They made a manufactured stink
About Big Billy’s morals.

The Great Republican Lie Machine
Hyped up on twisted success
Decided things would be better
If their pet monkey made a mess.
So, they bought him an election
And the Middle East rebelled
So much that a few insane terrorists
Sent us a day of hell.

The second Bush, the monkey
A semi-literate hack,
To legitimize his father, chose
The wrong country to attack.
He decided Sadam Hussein
Would be his choice of foil.
We were not meant to notice
It was all about cheap oil.

Dubya started a war,
The Great Instigator
That is still going on today
And it’s fourteen years later.
Hiding behind blind patriotism
His band of merry crooks
Robbed and pillaged us all
And threw out all the books.

The Constitution meant nothing
In the Second Bush’s D.C.
He and his accomplices
Made short work of liberty.
The attitude was we deserved
The ******* that we all got
Because GOP were statesmen
And the rest of them were not.

As ridiculous as that sounds
The public ate it all up.
They happily drank and swallowed
The hemlock in the cup.
Not content with Dubya’s brand
Of sedition and of ruin,
GOP sewed seeds of greed
And knew what they were doing.

Hand-elected judges
Dubya left in the smoking wreck
Of a country that had become
An albatross on its own neck.
Suddenly the laws of the land
That gave us a meager say
Were sneakily nullified
Behind chants of USA, USA!
.


Right now in the USA
Only money is king.
Right, wrong, good, bad
They don’t mean a thing.
As long as bucks and lobbyists
Are left in the picture
America will choke to death
On the toxic mixture.

Barack Obama got elected
With promises that we can
Fix what had been stolen
Of freedom in this land.
For six long years he tried
With Republicreeps on his back
To get our ailing economy
Back on a healthy track.

And when he had done it,
GOP lies weren’t quite enough,
They shut down the government
And made conditions rough.
The Supreme Court decided
Rich Corporations were due
The advantages of human beings
And tax deductions too.

And then the Supremes removed
All chance of a reprieve
Five ninths voted that people
Could discriminate if they believed
In their heart that someone else
Deserved their rights to be ignored.
Suddenly the Supreme Court
Was where bigotry was stored.

So, tens of millions of dollars
And hatred right in our faces
The outrages began to rise
Like strife between the races
So bad that Obama had to
Do what Dubya did so badly.
He made some Presidential edicts
And he did so quite gladly.

Suddenly we had health insurance
Gays could finally get married.
Even the Supremes back that up
A vote for equality was carried.
The GOP decided then
Led by a lunatic fringe,
To take the Congress on a spree
A drunk with power binge.

They voted to shut the country down
They wanted charge of our bodies.
It’s almost like they wanted the right
To put cameras in the potties.
They hid behind the Cross of Christ
Quoting things he did not say
And that is where things are
To this sad embarrassing day.

We aren’t out of the Middle East,
That’s part of the horse trading
That goes on in the public swap
Of D.C we are all wading.
We have felt the boot of power
Bring down its mindless stomp.
We’re up to our *** in alligators
And the GOP drained the swamp!
Kayla Chappell Apr 2021
Depression

My old friend

Oh my, oh my

Where have you been

You creep back into me

Ever so sneakily.

How i wish, we can make amends

After all this time spent

My old friend,

You cut me open

Then stitch me closed.

My tears flow and flow

Scars open

Bleeding out into the unknown.

Then,

Just like that

You shut me off.

Disassociated,

Now I am numb

To the bone.

My old friend,

It is either all or nothing with you.

Well I am sick

Of having to come up with reasons

Of why I am not feeling well.

I’m through with you.

Out, Out,

Gone be.

You are not me.

I will not be defined by the lies you shout and whisper to me.

My old friend, you will not take me with you

I have worked too hard,

Towards light,

To stay on my own path.

My mind has blossomed and my heart has been watered

You will not **** me dry.

Leave me, Leave me

Let me be.

-k.c
Naeem May 2022
"it was a long time ago" he says
as he hides his tears with a grin
she asks, "Are you okay?"
he grins, he lets out a failed laugh, he lies
she sees straight through his act
she asks, "Are you okay?"
tears swelling in the corners of his eyes, he lies
she waits for them to be wiped away sneakily
she asks, "Are you okay?"
he looks her in the eye, using all his strength he lies
she says she believes him, she breaks eye contact
she asks, "Are you sure? It's okay if you aren't"
he shakes his head, he falls towards her embrace,
"I'm sorry for being so difficult" he says
vulnerably

she says, "When are you going to move on"
and turns her back to him and leaves
as he cries alone in the dark
by N/***
mk Jun 2013
one thousand and one percent of the time
i'm tapped out of rhythm and straining to rhyme
i make up impossible stories and wish they were mine
and since they aren't, sometimes, i think i'd rather die
than live in a world where second class citizens are people who
are more connected to their emotions than me and you
who can't love who they love and instead have to lie
to get a good job or a role in society

we act like being who you are is actually a crime, you see,
you must be the norm for your family to be proud
there isn't a place here for people who're loud
you've got to jump on the bandwagon and be part of the crowd
there are no OPINIONS if you're not rich, male or white
called bossy or cruel when you have a bit of a bite

it's wrong apologizing for our daughters when on the playground they rule
beg pardon for her inherited superior leadership tool
because we may not realize that this is a good thing,
we've become ignorant of stereotypes, they've been ingrained into our brains
and the sad part is, no matter how much time passes,
they are almost sure to remain,
for our sakes and our childrens', society needs to CHANGE.

OKAY HERE'S PART TWO BUT IT'S NOT DONE SO.... optional (i would write more of this but i gave up, never going to be finished basically and it's really bad and I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT)

thank god the media is finally beginning to see our ways as strange
yet we still indirectly promote [anorexia, bulimia], shove it down each other's throats
advertising is a thing we cannot afford to misquote,
we may see the greedy product givers but our children do not,
our girls and our boys, they are sneakily taught
that you cannot be content, cannot be happy on your own,
they need to do what others do, you must buy this to be good,
there is no way in this world that you ever could,
be empowered, successful and handsome at once, you must have perfect skin
and a nice weave to match,
your own hair is _, in public it falls flat
part one of spoken word rap thing that i wrote for my friend
Broken lines dangle between
Vital voices at Waterloo.

Slick Rick on one end,
Skips and laughs-
Parading his mangled heart
On his crookedly stolen stick-

Draws circles with it
Around a blinking fire
That has risen,
Around some bush.

Olive sits firmly,
Scissors in hand,
Eyes shut, palms to the skies,
Though,
She skips and laughs sneakily,
Crying out, please, oh Popeye,
Save me!
Having slipped out of the bind,
Rick put her in.

6 Silver bunnies,
With empty pockets,
Sit, twitching
On gold mine expenses,
Looking for those who will come
With precious carrots,
Once word spreads of their
Glinting furs.
© 2011 Elephants & Coyotes
sanch kay Oct 2015
there are too many hours of the day that I am awake for;
twenty-four is a number I have come to dread.
I hate that I'm rolling around for hours and hours,
watching the colours shift across the sky
from one agonising hour to the other
when I'm trapped in this body, this brain, this mind,
this me.

i hate the fact that an empty echoing house
is all that I have to come back to
and that my worst nightmares
are my every day realities;
just me, awake, all day, all night,
all alone in this ******* world.

i hate that the warm body and warmer soul I want to make love to
in whose arms I want to spend every night -
wants nothing but return to the comfort of his own bed,
leaving me to battle another ****** night
with the demons that devour my brain.

i hate that for every twenty seconds of sleep I sneakily ******,
i'm made to pay through weeks of wakefullness
that settles heavily into my muscles and my bones
leaving me aching and restless, making survival
a struggle and not a goal.
I hate this.
there are too many hours of the day that I am awake for -
**i want to be awake for none at all.
Insomniac, too many sunrises seen, too **** fed up.
Kam Yuks Mar 2013
Shed light beam - scattered amidst shadowing December and shallow compliment of gathered mass.

Bright moonlight stills the whispering vapors where you once left beaten sneakers, football cards, and smelly socks.

This view from there where you once played your guitar; the hole in the screen remains where filtered smoke poured out the window from the bubbling drag of natures antiquity.

Science was only existent in an ancient alchemy.

Laughter came easiest while dreams remained bountiful and attainably tucked in the future projects folder before collecting thick layers of dust beneath well wishing and inaction; just feed now for the annoying perpetual adolescence that holds me down with regret.

Weighty concerns finally crept up slow and sneakily like a strong dose  of LSD on a
school night.

Laughter becomes tears. This weight is mine and can only be carried by me. Why do those that I sought for direction seem so lost? Who am I if not the one who walked in the room?

No one but me. Only I can answer that. The answer comes and goes. Heartbreak can shatter an ego like nothing else.
I still love you all.
Thank you.
Forgive me.
Emily Tyler Apr 2013
LS
Once upon a time
At a middle school
They decided
That we didn't need
48 minutes
Of lunch

(Even
Though
We
Do)

And now we have
LS

(Which stands for
Learning Seminar)

((Even
Though
We
Never
Learn
anything))

And they
Sneakily
Subtracted
Eighteen
Minutes
From
Teen
Wolves
Shovel­ing
Food into
Their mouths

To sit
Quietly
In a room
And read.
Mazen Edlibi Oct 2016
I closed my eyes and I saw her face!
A face that left a trace in lost soul!
I closed my eyes and I saw her black hair sliding on the side!
A face I thought I would be able of keeping away from my soul!
Sneakily... I'm watching her hands reaching sky!
Eagerly ... I'm thinking when I would have that time with her!
Jealously... I'm seeing her talking with others!
She came from nowhere! Yet she placed that trembling in corners of my silence!
I counted minutes…….to see her face!
I folded scenes to hear her voice!
I held my pen to write… and I kept my ink silent!
I can’t say her name!
I can’t move towards her asking who are you!
I couldn’t look at her eyes!
I couldn’t dare and ask her what do you want to say!
I just hugged her and moved away!
Turning pages into rest!

And….

The Chapter not yet closed!
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
Glimpsing her bathing on the roof,
He averted his eyes and looked away.

Wondering if his eyes remembered her beauty correctly,
He sneakily took a short glance to see clearly.

And that was all it took for King David,
Who gazed upon the wife of his own soldier.

Lured by a glimpse,
Hooked by a glance,
Swallowed by a gaze,
He didn't know the steep cost to be paid.
A poem about King David from the Bible with Bathsheba
My mama’s shoes,
Fit my feet too snug, now,
For me to look cute, still, slippin’ them on.
I’ve no need of her lipstick, nor her raspberry rouge,
To make my face look, more, like hers does.

I’m a big, daddy’s girl, who has known the world,
But, not quite enough to really fit in.

--

I still heart,
Sunshine and rosies,
And, playin’ with mah toesies -
Eatin’ froot loops and pokin’ at roly poly’s,
Makin’ colourful cupcakes, covered in sweet gummies,
To eat inside forts filled with last winter’s lights,

Too,

Eatin’ Caramel Delights, sneakily,
Stolen, in spite - of the weight,
I was fightin’ so easily.

--

Perhaps,

When the adults are all done - playin’ house, for fun,
I’ll bring my cookies from the fort, to the table.
We’ll have coffee and speak of the stats,
For the week and laugh about,
Hart's becoming unstable.

And, I shall wear loafers,
That pinch at my,
Toesies that fidget,
Crazily,
Beneath my seat.
WIP
© 2011 Elephants & Coyotes
13 May 2013
I am a waste of life
life is wasted on me
they called me friend
yet I would see them bend
break their rules and heads
for someone who wets the bed
in the midst of chaos I lose their grip
this hand from left excuses me a slip
oh sweet pain! you return at last

I like to bleed
the sear of a wound
dripping crimson ink
lightens the burden
absolves my guilt
or so I feel it drain
my sins silently, along with memories
under showers where no one will see
I lie still, remembering why
it makes perfect sense in the moment
the incision will be subtle, but deep
enough to hurt and spill from

I will disguise my face
so no one can know
the obvious truth that lurks
beneath this skin of glee
I should have been accustomed
to losing what I love and care about
even if they mean nothing, I'd still want them around
It's harder than it looks to let go
wound around my fingers, the strings, cutting into them
and I pull, I still pull, till the bleeding is a norm
but eventually they'll take my fingers along
and I will fall, not from pride, or high
but gall, against myself
into pity and apathy
sneakily creeping through the silences
I'll look for resolve in darker things
and wither in the light of regret
until the next string breaks
and the cycle begins again.
3 of my friends have broken all relations with me in the past 15 hours. one of which i was in love with. this SO had to come out.
bobby burns Nov 2012
some mornings
even my hair
seems to behave,
when i don't need
it to -- like weather
or feelings.
                         after
today, i was content.
i finally got my bed
just the way i like it,
settled in, surrounded
by cush, and plush and
(dead insects)
                            despite
    a growing discomfort
in my belly, i'm still fine;
saltine remedy, mint tea
                              potion.
a lovely girl asked                
me to catch dreams for her.
of course i will, in jars like
fireflies, natural lanterns
to light up your
imagination.
                             but the
          aching in my belly
    seems intent on staying
until addressed appropriately--
sneakily
                creeping up on me
like adolescent shenanigans--
acknowledgement is
reminiscence, the kind you
don't fancy at 1:00 am.
so i mulled it over,
going home; like
a kick in the shins,
it made me realize
that the little place
in me, maybe a vein
or vesicle, is still
missing.
               it used to
be an *****, a limb;
in months it shrank to
an extremity, a digit,
finally infinitesimal--
but still
missing.
     (now) i'm having trouble
                making my peace
with the fact that you'll have
that artery, or capillary,
or soul atom for awhile
or forever, maybe.
but i think, i posit
in fact, perhaps
by march, a few
months more,
i'll forget and
be able to say
*"it's yours."
old summer loves.
Anton Michael Feb 2011
Covering, smothering your land like a shroud;
sneakily, silently, making not a sound.
Don't panic, don't hide, don't try to disappear,
don't even try to flee - it is of no use, my dear.
Ghostly, ethereal, otherworldly, unholy;
there can't be light without darkness - THIS was His folly.

So hearken! Ye holymen!
Hearken! Ye sinners!
Hearken! Ye losers!
Hearken! Ye winners!
Hark now here, beings of white, black and red:
where do you run to when Earth wants you dead. . .?
AP Apr 2015
suspend me underneath natural light that reflects from your soul
shower me with your promising words that flow blissfully like spring drizzle on an atoll
the time has come, as my bud is finally opening for sprout
ready to meet your eyes, for I have grown to trust, and have shed my doubt
but it is in this revealing moment that you burn my orchid petals
and watch the charcoal shriveling of my innocent vines
as they disintegrate to moonless black in your hands
and the fauna and flora cry with my pain as they question your senseless  crime
Injustice they yell! Love mustn't become lie, thou lack the universal testament of time?
now you bury my ash remains with the same deceitful hands
under the soil that must resurrect me with insidious plans
because as i blossom i must face this process again...
you were the match that danced so sneakily on my wick
as your love was guaranteed, but it blackened with my hope
nature waits despondently again for a true love
*tick, tick, tick
I'm out of the country so I haven't been able to write for a while, but the flowers here have inspired this
eileen mcgreevy Feb 2010
So, you're forced to allow them to analyse,And it came to this, before they heard your cries,The ones who love you, claim they did it for the best,But all they hold dear is opinions of the rest. So the pills increase, and the doseage grows,And soon you are not your true self,And before you can deal with it, they've ****** kicked in,And you've become this, someone, else. Your brain becomes numb, and your friends grow scarce,You cann sense it, the fence gets higher,The need to jump is buried deep inside,But you're a medicated liar. You nod, and smile, and jump through hoops,But your insides just keep screaming,You sneakily try to cut the intake,But it all feels like you are dreaming,You keep it quiet, you must tell no one,For back into you it creeps,The fence in sight, the dimming light,The blood begins to seep. Dilemma one, should you become a false interpretation?,Or should you let the real you show, but face NHS damnation?...
for those of us who are from the us, or elsewhere, the NHS, i the equivelent to the health care system . (c) eileenmcgreevy@ymail.com 2009
Arianna Anderson Jun 2012
No words can express my HATRED
So much rage boils in my soul
Violently shaking from fierce emotions
Anger devouring me whole

No words can express my IRRITATION
Silence or I will soon snap
Strapped down by my fierce emotions
The clock times my awaited attack

No words can express how much I DESPISE
You, and only you
Sneakily you slip away the only that mattered to me
That moment you soon will rue

No words can express how much I LOATHE
You, and myself too
For letting you get away with it
For letting myself hold in all this animosity that is new

No words can express
No black or white magic can take it back
What YOU did
You, and only you...
Diana Sep 2018
When you think of perfection
I hope my name
Breaths down your neck
And crawls it's way
Into your brain
Imprinting delicately against it
Leaving with it
A trail
Of blissful memories
In its wake

Because
When I think of heartache
Your name
Sneakily snakes its way around
My heart
Carrying with it
A heavily weighed metal chain
That sharply bites against
My fragile *****
Tightening and constricting it
With my every shallow breath
Leaving bruises
Not only ones visible to the naked eye
But ones that penetrate
Far beyond the surface
Of the newly broken and bruised tissue
Reminding me
Of all the
"Blissful memories"
We shared
Nomkhumbulwa Jan 2019
It wasn't the best birthday,
Not that 39 is exciting anyway,
But I wasn't quite prepared
For what my brain threw my way today

What is even the point?
In turning 39?
Next year Clare and I are going to Ethiopia
- to sneakily go back in time ;)

38 was old enough
But still not quite that bad
39 is a lot more daunting
For there are no more "30's" to be had

But a few days ago I met a friend
Who just turned 70 last week
What was even more shocking
- she is still much fitter than me!

Her grandson is now 17
I once taught him to bake cakes
Back when I shared her house
Duncan was at primary school for goodness sake!

I don't know if Clare feels the same
About this weird age to become
Or whether as some say its just a number
My 70yr old friends are forever young

I have so much admiration for Clare
With her determination to succeed,
She does make me feel younger
Although turning 39 is still **** - it must be agreed :/

But I was determined to make the best
Of the last year beginning with "3"
Although I dramatically failed
Got dressed, panicked, then ate grapes until tea...

I did let down Teresa
I admire her so much too
We were supposed to eat cake
And how I miss our conversations about poo..

But here I still am
Dressed for both Africa and the North Pole
Required a walking pole to get to the pub
With snow turned to ice - it wouldn't be pretty to fall...

But I finished my day with a whisky
A wee dram to still being 30 something
A single malt Aberlour came to my rescue
To compliment the huge amount of Diazepam

I shall try again tomorrow
Looking forward to seeing Carryn again
So I officially cancelled my birthday
And tomorrow I will try again

But my goodness how Im so grateful
To some very special friends
Here in Aberdeen,
Mary and Glyn are those friends

My brain tortures me frequently
And today we had so many plans
They all went down the toilet
Quite literally (!) but gladly from the right end..

So generous are my adopted family
I can never be grateful enough
For putting up with my panic
Understanding my brain says its "had enough"

It might have been a ****** birthday
But I don't know where i'd have been
If it were not for Glyn and Mary
And their endless compassion and understanding.

To all my friends - sorry for being "weird", and I really do appreciate all your kindness with all my heart.. ❤️
Well - it kind of says it all really :/ Wrote this as I come to the end of a difficult birthday which I shall attempt again tomorrow!   But also to show my deep appreciation for such good friends.
The wisdom of the world lies close,
in every ad and song;
Whispering  their coarse complaints
and their sweetly ****** sentiments,
that so hideously colored the very attitude
of the people once subjected
to its cheery caterwauling,
leering out from the nostalgic billboards.
The monstrous whining hum
of the spoiled cities
echoes loudly off the haunted bluffs
and peaks-
the abandoned parks
sit quietly,
simmering in discontent
and harboring flora
with a wicked unease;
seething with a desire,
a thirst for revenge,
that even in earth's creation
was never fully quenched;
The raging inferno dripping off the walls
in violent shades of fiery green and gold
strangles the life from this once bustling city-
creeping sneakily to reclaim
what humans thought to govern,
to control;
Turning the cities brown and vacant,
like the souls of the leaves scattered
on the naked cold ground.
Where once a city thrived,
and where Flora  takes her revenge;
purging the black polluted streets
with green oxygen and life;
Flora's revenge remains  
dedicated to this change-
In a city
of growing ruin.

— The End —