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Nina Messina Oct 2013
Outwardly I am a titanium barrier, inwardly, a net of strings hold me together within confining my true self to my mind. The metaphoric needle posed between thumb and forefinger, sewing patch after patch across my ruined skin, holding in the things that threaten to burst. The thread is my self value, thin and dissolving.
Watching in the shattering mirror, who I am, as tears and blood slip past trembling fingers.  Reaching upwards towards light, but I drown in the darkness. I am swallowed by hopeless misery.
Floundering and toiling in the shadows of my own faith and nearly forgotten beliefs.
Sorrow floods me, consuming in a cold fire that doesn’t burn, but freezes to the core.
Refracting shards of light that escape like a song. They fall like a melody from my lips.
While the heat of the world swirls around me in shades of blue and black. I am bruised and ask "why do I hate myself?"
I never have an answer. Only the memories of a life so beyond dysfunctional that I have to resort to story writing to make believe a happy ending, never truly believing in it.

What were these whispered words that squirmed and infiltrated my mind, what are those lost secrets and memories left to fade away. Tormented, still I remain silent. Suffering quietly. Wondering if I'll go down without a fight, or would I take my own life. It is the loss of my humanity. I transcend in definition, no longer resembling who I was.  Silver tears, dripping from the eyes of the moon, as if such a cold distant satellite mourns for and with me.

Fear remains, as it always does, clutching my heart in an iron grasp. Despite the freedom of a new life, my knees are buckling, I’m poised to run, as if there were a place to escape to. Walls arise on all sides. I am locked in a box, where I hide away from the world, and I become, cold and distant as the moon. Fighting myself endlessly.
Hide everything I am from the world, and put it out of sight of myself, I don't dare to confront it.
I ask myself again. "Why do I hate?" I know a vague answer to it this time. I have allowed the evil and cruelty of a despondent life before this one to shape me, even after my resurrection, despite my belief and faith. I had let it consume me.
My heart, a thousand splinters of ice, would once break, even if it was looked at, or touched, cracked and shatter repeatedly. I only watch, making no attempt to heal myself. Content with viewing my own nails clashing with soft flesh that gives way to pain and agony. Slicing into cold abysmal depths, bleeding a metaphoric spectrum of ****** colors into my veins that then spill down the drain of my heart.

I wonder if there is any capacity within me, for the remnants of a shimmering soul to return to hope?   I'd abandoned love and hope for so long, had they dissipated completely. Do I dare to uncover such a startling miserable revelation?
My voice catches in my chest, as I sing halfheartedly for my freedom. To be released from my anguish. My voice not carrying past my lips, stolen by the wind of despair circulating around me.
I had changed, believed myself worthless and ugly. Melancholy, a kaleidoscope of emotions contrasting with one another. Dripping together to create the painting of my life. Magnificent, yet lonely and sad. Like forlorn splatter-paint tears down the side of eroding walls.

I was told once that I was shiny on the outside, and dull on the inside. Gilded. I want to change that. I cannot hide the scars I have been dealt, nor can I conceal the ones I've inflicted to my own body. I remember each slice to the skin with shame. That I had knowingly marred perfect flesh.
"What value could I possibly have if I'm constantly looked down upon?"  I pose questions like this to myself.
Everything they say makes me feel worthless, like I'm not supposed to be here.
Maybe I'm not, I wasn’t supposed to live was I?
“Worthless. Freak. Stupid.”
Do these words define me?
Are they who I am?
I am a shadow, As I sink into the depths of my own insignificance I stare speculatively, emptily up at the opalescent translucence far above me. I’ve always been worthless,  but now I am nameless. I’ve never been to solid in my own emotions, right now I don’t know what to feel anymore. Where and what is joy? What happened to the light?
I dissolve into toxicity and an almost chemical stasis of depression, seeping into my heart with the thickness of sick black tar, dragging me farther than I’ve ever been beneath the surface.

I become nothing, for that is what I presume I always was, nothing. Only a mirage burning holes into the fabric of lonely hearts longing, a haunting memory left to torment into seclusion and sorrow.
An empty shell of what once was a girl with dreams, is all that remains to decay in the dark. While the shudder of sobs dies down into a tempest of self loathing.
An incandescent nightmare, flares out like the petals of a blossoming flower, they unfurl and cover the dystopia of eloquently disfigured words that curl and uncoil, only to surround the wounds of me that pour from a inky black liquid that has replaced the blood in my veins.
The push and pull of the sorrow and hope mixing into the discordant symphony of life. The sound that is the melody of me.
Cody Haag Dec 2015
Earlier today,
I laid outside atop the snow,
A feat that I haven't tried
Since life's true colors showed.

The frost numbed my body,
I'm sure red flushed into my cheeks;
I stared speculatively at the sky,
My eyes searched and seeked.

I wanted to understand the beauty,
That nature offers so readily, the solace,
That it blankets us in even on cold days;
I wanted to understand beauty that is flawless.

My tired eyes embraced small, soaring figures
That coursed through the air with grace;
Content to go their own paths,
Not engaged in a petty race.

The figures were falcons,
That spiraled and sailed on wind above me,
Probably heading south,
For warmth to set them free.

But in that moment I compared them
To man-produced ashes;
Gray soot that courses through the air
Dashes, in varying directions,
As fire burns.

In that moment, the birds drifted through the air
So aimlessly, like the ashes do,
Landing faraway,
Wherever they flew.

Nature itself could be ashes,
If people continue on this path;
This destruction ought to incur
Some sort-of wrath.
The rainbow’s bright colors gazed out of their prism, speculatively, cautiously, almost contrarily, with no wall to paint their patterned pictures on, fading into irrelevance as they vanished into the void .

Time ; torturous and tyrannical, toyed with the torrential turbulence, as it’s transitive tenaciousness thoughtlessly, tactlessly, tooled through the torrid tempest .

The starry-eyed girl gazed glassily across the expanse as if in a quandary over the night sky .

A half human silhouette in a sky filled with thunder heads and birds of prey rooted in a tapestry of alien galaxies and blazing stars playing a melodian .

Water glistened on the skin of the naked woman and rainbows danced in the air before her as the waves crashed against the rocks .

A young man with a pony tail in the center of the back side of his head played his drum while he danced on the grass .
Paul M Chafer Dec 2013
Lips gently brush
against each other.
Their fresh moist
softness hot, yielding.
Tongues touch, executing
deft tantalising flicks.
A sensuous tease
before delving deeper.
Searching, probing, lips
pressing, passion flaring.
Hearts melting, spirits
soaring, rushing away.
Then suddenly, it's over
More than physical contact.
A more subtle, mental kiss.
Our fingers connect
briefly on parting.
Lingering slightly, and
I speculatively wonder.
Were our minds
in perfect synchronicity?
Or is there truly,
only one mind?
Such uncertainies arise,
with mental kissing.

© Paul Chafer 2014
From an actual meeting.
Neobotanist Aug 2021
eating figs
eating ***
eating flesh

i swim through my mother's veins
and peel back layers,
distinctly feminine.

i see me.
i feel me.
i taste me.

we hold delicate
yet strong and vibrant lovers
in our mouths,
inflated candy eggs—cosmic nectar.

foolishly gazing at our sordid massacres:
flesh upon flesh
seed upon fleshy seed

visions of nightquests
sing-songing liquidly

i vanish into wormholes,
fiery transformations,
and bitter leaves,
which weep through silver pores.

feverishly, we pick apart the stems,
dropping them away.
hurry, hurry!
we're so impatient to get these figs
into our mouths.

heads crane forward
and tongues ****** first.
hands follow, fingers last.
crush down once, thrice
on earth maternal—
it's not juice, it's cream.

siddhis speculatively come forward
and burn triangle patterns behind our eyelids.
she is freed again from past recollections,
elegantly fighting off disease—cellularly—while drumming solos,
gnashing figs,
and caressing twigs with toes.

i invite you to breathe me in—
soft, solid air,
stale with anticipation
but honey-lemon sweet,
and empty besides.

we pour sweet broths into banana-leaf cups
and drink beetles out of sugarcones,
traces of ectoplasm dribbling down our chins,
violetly forgetting the echoes of
peppermint vapors,
and nourishing our bellies
with heavy, pregnant plant mothers.

i long for excess,
and i can never get enough.
besides,
it is the summer of figs,
and we cry openly
at the beads of sweat
forever forming on glassy surfaces.

i taste-touch with my fingers
and feel-taste with my tongue,
and still i feel that we aren't close enough,
so i invite it to enter me and become me,
and now
i am fig.

it's as if the cilia-seeds
and tender pink spots
expect the pressure.

it's true:
we expect this solid, gravitational pressure
and they rip off wings,
just to bathe in our nectar.

she hadn't known true ecstasy
until this violation of figs,
until her madness imploded secretly
like their demure insides,
and all she could think about
was jelly pulp and pale achenes.

so saccharine, you say,
wiping your mouth with a sticky hand,
and wiping your hand on stiff denim,
but really there's even more sweet to come later.

green-plump
violet-plump
pink-pulp
swallow

i hear it before my ears do.
i see it before my eyes do.

i swimmingly tesselate
and wade through the liquid air,
particles dissolving around me.

there's some give,
and i'm able, you see,
to be here in this palace of
pent-up pleasures and lastly,
comes stillness.

she weeps hatred from her body
so it doesn't seep
into her half-digested fig:
the fig of all figs.

caked with dried mud and chocolate,
we emerge
and fall off effortlessly
into angles of light.

dust rises like a prism
along pre-choreographed
provocations of smoke—
steps cascading for spirits of anjeer
to patter down
into our realm.

feed me, they say.
and so we do.

we break open the figs
with childish fingers,
tasting before offering
on little plates carved out of spoons,
melting coconut lashes and spidermilk
in the process.

the oven creaks quietly,
and raindrops lift gauzy veils
from drowsy eyelids
on sleepy mornings.

pulling waterwords
from unification,
fiery feelings die down
until they're just a glimmer—
a glimmer of softness,
with wet embers tantalizingly
dripping fireworks,
like childhood.

waves murmur something secret,
and the whispers only take 5,000 years
before they reach your ears,
yet you still startle and awaken,
sweat on the brow,
and glisten your way through,
splashing sloppily through
paper screens
to deliver messages.

iron tea kettles sit in dying ashes for far too long.

in my visions,
i saw ripe, bursting figs
hurtling across starlit skies,
blossoming beautifully
before dropping heavily and with sound.

and suddenly it was summer—
radiant, glowing summer—
with our skin dissolving upwards
in the golden heat,
sparkling dramatically
in the decaying light.

i wanted to pull something out of me
but the strings were tied to my organs.

slippery insides meant less danger,
so we tiptoed on grains of sand
and grains of rice,
and black beads,
and black beans,
and pearls,
and magnets.

we tripped through hours,
while minutes crawled to a close,
and sifted fine blue watersilk
until it exploded with mollusks.

i am a clam
and you are a gallon of fir tree sap,
delivered every wednesday,
to embellish our
fried and crispy things.

almond-shaped plumes and
majestic, purple heliochromes
blaze saturn rings coldly,
while the fruit falls apart—
first at the center—
and our gaze lingers on mother:
she is
dancing,
and dancing.
wordvango Apr 2017
In a principled mind,
which formed speculatively at best,
on cognition and dreams,
desires and subliminal manifestations
of life's energies,
I stumbled upon
and repetively focused on the unpleasant
aspect my mind seemed to be,
of somehow this
other me, like a curtain over a window to
my entirety. I was mostly here on this side of
the thick veil, or was I? There was more , I was certain.
More to me.
I found art the desire to create
at odds with my desires to self destruct.
I ran around the mural slashing
as I colored the sky the most
appealing blues.
I spoke of peace while killing a lamb for dinner.
I slid under death one way or another
one day and caught the other me
saying , I meet you again-
At Last.
Jerry Joseph Apr 2013
Drawing lines and dying somewhere with our
      legs between them,
I can hardly remember you
With your anxious subtle reasoning.

It was the other day I caught a glimpse of
      someone I knew,
And she reminded me of you.

Speculatively, I thought she was what you
      would be...a little of the past, a little new
And even now that I'm closest to the truth.
The politics after the remnants in the ragged serpents of Aerse flowed through the Cefiso, by way of a section of linking of clear and effulgence before an evident flash that enveloped him of being a cardinal priest of bucolic policies of all the nearby Athenian regions, towards vertiginous regressive parapsychology, like flashback Elusino or Anadromí sto Parelthón Eleusia, where the visualizations between Aerse and Lochnith, happen by omniscient geopolitical induction of biofeedback that re-agency the inclinations of both, for the purpose of their geomorphological foundation and for the purpose of instituting them as evocation backbones of millennia, providing feedback and settling on prophecies from the 8th century bC, stop of the ends and interprocess of eternality of the incognito mystery that began to be clarified with the reinvented personality of Aerse in amendment of Life and Expiration experienced with Lochnith in the month of Boedromión, fleeing from a federated Re-Polis that would unify dimensionality of substance and sacred space Eleusinian with Lochnith nascent warmongering for the purpose of recruiting in the Hexagonal Primogeniture, for assistance and indissoluble ephemeris of edification and hegemony of the Megaron in Patmos. This thanks to the ragged serpents, but nesting hopes of gold in the nests that give priority to the dimensionalities of peers, which will be consolidated as a reality of rite and E-cloud flashback space, for the convenience of retro-future parapsychological memory, In economy of two blocks of resignation of the Sacred Space repealed, but in geomorphological consensus, for Military command jambs towards Vernarth, as a forged pulsing ***** of the sacred cult, in the mysterious nature and territorial domesticity to come from Aerse, for the purposes of the Agoras re-nucleating the metaphysical messengers that reinstitute the re-polis; but in a field of worship of E-Cloud, in civic and cyber-organic action, for those who virtually recognize the Ablution in the multidimensional of hands calling the unknown, but with ardent passion to receive him even while guarding against further vibrational mutations with the Faskéloma or exasperation of hands that move the indigo in occasional sub-vibrations, in the tendency of a parity of the Sacred Space of Gethsemane, in disaster of passing the aqueous levels of the Cephysus, in ordinal of presumptive of unreal and sub-unreal worlds.

The parapsychology of the Space of quadrilateral teas of absorption and of erratic emotional meditation lies here enshrined in Aerse molecules, which were still received by the substances intra-exposed and extra-gates of the body, experiencing an absolutely unprecedented phenomenon, towards an immune-spiritual transit, preserving eccentric radii of concentration of refurbished chromatic rays, in a field of mental daring towards another of unprecedented and electrogenic mental force that dissipated between Aerse and Eurydice, who came near the Coasts of Patmos, coming from theoretical planes between both metaphysically flowed for unions and restraint. The ebbs of their statics jumped, for simultaneity and bilocation, endo electro-Eleusines who went exorbitant to other rollers uncrossing in body margins that concelebrated the quantum crankshaft and fiber kindness in arresting inter-women, such as teleportation and rescue of rituals in scheduling and seasonal astrological forecasts.

Lochnith says: “in the proximity of mortuary reality, there will be no repair outside of our body of geography and of our losses and harvests or of lives in sub or supra quantum transit, blinding the eyes of unknown erudition, while our contraption is self- it obstructs in our interactions and electromagnetic sensory ones, paraphrasing itself in the remote-near wired of residuals and related electros-metaphysical, which becomes the nothingness of a post-ritual pre-sense whole "

The ligation of the arteries of the Cephysus, carried the emanations of Lochnith, to love him in a medicinal act, for beings devoid of physicality, on the way to spectra of healing, in a reparative pain of extra-corporal and bi-localized pain, among which they conform polarity in androecium and gynoecium as a unit of superior physical mental gender, towards an ectoplasmic regulated nervous world, by means of Vernarth's regression, lowering their blood pressure and increasing stationary red blood cells, and with secondary effects intertwining with Eurydice and Aerse, for outcomes in Vernarth, who came in the prow of the super wet ship, and with some fabrics from the stowage of the ship directing the relaxed but autonomous cerebral advance, which already dispersed dead cells from the right pectoral, for the military and syncretic affair with Lochnith, reinstalling targets globules that arose when it was dawn on the shores of Skalá in independent, peaceful and surrounded cohorts of phalanxes that accompanied him in minutes that seemed millennia, all succumbed to mind-body pessimism and telepathic prayer, which took place by glistening in trances of self-healing parapsychology that descended on them, in pure membrane novels in acts of merciful that made them thick in the flashes of falling weightless ultraviolet rays, separating between body and opinion, joining in psychosomatic networks, as chemical messengers in undefined subsequent receptor bodies of the bachkoi chemicals, which were already deficient for a compensatory universe of genres emerging in a disintegrated emotional quantum world, with a body increasingly reintegrated into a body made of unknown subjective material, but of physical material linked in the network to each other as a real whole, transforming into the greatest passionate refectory of flashes between the their own reinstalling themselves in their Super Egos.

In the Latest Minute Dogmate according to the rictus Mortis thesis, the globules would move like a big explosion, interacting with everything, as starting everything from the beginning of nothing to the indivisible, in numbers of coincidence options for a whole, as a phenomenon of domesticity to align times, but with the probability of finding them in the vestige of real anomalous presences that occurred millions of light-years ago.

Aerse replies: "My admired one, the flash has a measure of the astral body, in the consciousness of spirit that underlies purgation in repeated souls measurable in the perfection of semblance and providential ****** questioned, re-transforming, distant and with disaffection, but contiguous healing. The smallest coherence in the fabulous Griffins that joined my imaginative component and in the ballast of his final departure, not aware of another unique being that can measure and augur him for an undivided trans-personal being. But I am already here, and I am your creation and I no longer know of other illusions of separating myself from this life, of what Eleusis is from a cosmic material that is and was in all time that speculatively passes, for the flash that you reflect if you it pales visible and not, but compact on our intertwined hearts"

As living organisms, various methods of life were postulated as an option in the right hand of Bing Bang, for the goods of those who are really close to real neuroscience puzzles, by way of resonant daring that will influence consanguinity, for volumes of blood releases, carriers of experiences and trans-evolutionary life of the emitter on the outskirts of a Parthenon, as well as in the genre of the world that associates ambiguities from anode to cathode, positive and negative for Hellenic parallelism and life adorned with roots and forage of everlasting vernacular inheritances. All electro-dermal from the Lochnith conglomerate was in total congruence with regressive Eleusian parapsychology propagating from the Vernarth portal, which was vaguely teleported by the river Cephysus, into living organisms that asserted Vernarth's native species originality and currents super life in the euphemistic underworld of mysterious protocols.

As a reaction of mind-matter, the reluctance and support of entrainment in all perceptions, precognitions, telepathies, and forebodings, between this intrepid parapsychological adventure as cloister perpetuity in sensory interferences of the reality of the body and the reality of the omnipotent world, as menthe-matter explosive. Lochnith, was already the possessor of the hypnotic mental reincarnation formula, in the form of a neuroscience ship close to the apparitions of death using the later shoes in life purely in the baggage of sleepy ethereal meats and oracular meditation.
The more we learn about the laws that explain parapsychological phenomena, the more our vision of reality and fiction of something that begins to be the laurel of a psychokinetic true world will grow. Within the curvature and scarce light that already remained in the places of the Lochtian day, normality returned to them after this long journey of the parapsychological biosphere and intriguing contemplation, and even of tenuity and the frisky idea that can die suddenly, after self incubate in the invisible passage of coexistence and rupture of mystery in the medication of art lived with alien beings, for a prototype of a character who only knows that harvesting is consuming capital from the upheaval of a loss and non-profit of the incontrovertible paranormal-normal. What is paranormal and parapsychological in the plane of the posterity of life, is an act of calm coexistence in playful spirits compensating in the seclusion in the vaults of the dramatic and involutionary psychological past, if the material or cute (spiritual) is not dissected the train cosmic perception of duality and the concept of purging the spirit of living…, he lives in his seventh heaven.

The hypnosis of death and purgation for those who require a convoy of conscience continues to be a tiny space that physically transports and reverts to minimums that are neutralized in foreign bodies and foundlings as well, from a corporal depositary aedicule that is not his or the owner that He claims it (Vg aedicule of Joseph of Arimathea). The voices of people officiating the Eleusinian ritual were heard far beyond those who could merely hear them in memorable spaced therapies and recorded in interspersed layers of electro-acoustic sounds of the complex frequency serial of alarming regenerative life, in a moving celestial body. Continuous. Everything is transfused in the meditation of curves that revive in those who promote the perfection of marigolds, like buttercups that dress the clothes of Canephore like Aerse, but of psychic and ephemeral latent of the psychoactive psychic and ******-spiritual alchemical in ethereal entities that become more alchemical in unknown molecules.
Gleam  of Lochnith  III
Graff1980 Jan 2016
Why do I seek truth? I must be careful to not retroactively define the reasons behind my seeking of the truth. If I list the best reasons for seeking the truth as I understand them now. I might define my previous attempts by my current understanding. This is dangerous to the truth because are memories are an ever evolving things adapting to the input of new information all the time. I actually understood this before I ever listened to the audio book on memory. Which was a couple months ago. I wrote a poem describing the process.
Why should one seek the truth? To build a better brain
The constant pursuit of new truths creates new neural pathways not only does this prevent the disintegration of old neural pathways by reinforcing them and rewiring them into other pathways it also increases (speculatively) the density of neural pathway. This should help prevent or postpone things like Alzheimer’s or dementia which seems to be something that might run in my family. Although, I wish I had such foresight when I was younger, I cannot honestly ascribe that to my reasons.

The truth empowers us. Our options are limited by our current understanding of reality. If we do not know that there is way we cannot pursue that way. If we think we cannot, we never will. Understanding there are almost infinite paths to any giving destination allows us the fortitude and freedom to push through obstacles, from any situation. This has not always been my reasoning but it to is a good one.

Fear is a good reason to seek the truth, and one that is probably much closer to my original intentions. Fear stems from uncertainty. If you know something bad is going to happen you can learn to accept it or by referencing the previous paragraph you can find a way to change it. As young man I was afraid of myself more than anything. I was curious about the cruelty of humans because of my mom’s behavior, and those around me. As much as I would like to believe otherwise I was very reactionary and I still am. My pursuits where a matter of whims. Educational reading did not really start until after I developed a taste for fiction. Even now I am a lazy self-educator. Well, lazy by the standards of what I know I am capable of. It has been my understanding that many people do not engage in much introspection and self-education. It is not their fault they are constantly bombarded by the pressures of life which sap their time and willpower.
Now I am getting bored with this process of self-discovery so I am going to go back to engaging in mindless dvd entertainment.
Graff1980 Jan 2017
Why do I seek truth? I must be careful to not retroactively define the reasons behind my seeking of the truth. If I list the best reasons for seeking the truth as I understand them now. I might define my previous attempts by my current understanding. This is dangerous to the truth because our memories are an ever evolving things adapting to the input of new information all the time. I actually understood this before I ever listened to the audio book on memory. Which was a couple months ago. I wrote a poem describing the process.
Why should one seek the truth? To build a better brain
The constant pursuit of new truths creates new neural pathways not only does this prevent the disintegration of old neural pathways by reinforcing them and rewiring them into other pathways it also increases (speculatively) the density of neural pathway. This should help prevent or postpone things like Alzheimer’s or dementia which seems to be something that might run in my family. Although, I wish I had such foresight when I was younger, I cannot honestly ascribe that to my reasons.
The truth empowers us. Our options are limited by our current understanding of reality. If we do not know that there is way we cannot pursue that way. If we think we cannot we never will. Understanding there are almost infinite paths to any giving destination allows us the fortitude and freedom to push through obstacles, for any situation. This has not always been my reasoning but it to is a good one.
Fear is a good reason to seek the truth, and one that is probably much closer to my original intentions. Fear stems from uncertainty. If you know something bad is going to happen you can learn to accept it or by referencing the previous paragraph you can find a way to change it. As young man I was afraid of myself more than anything. I was curious about the cruelty of humans because of my mom’s behavior, and those around me. As much as I would like to believe otherwise I was very reactionary and I still am. My pursuits where a matter of whims. Educational reading did not really start until after I developed a taste for fiction. Even now I am a lazy self-educator. Well, lazy by the standards of what I know I am capable of. It has been my understanding that many people do not engage in much introspection and self-education. It is not their fault they are constantly bombarded by the pressures of life which sap their time and willpower.
Now I am getting bored with this process of self-discovery so I am going to go back to engaging in mindless dvd entertainment.
In a lost paradise where the sea shrinks with feminine conscience, compassionate flashes are ratified in each groove and I calculate footage, this previous present attracts the magnanimous representation of the lightning emission of its speech representing itself where the queen judges the king Consummatum Est, with little difference from culinary art and its very dense genre. Here is the carious aspect of the bluish faskéloma or exasperating of the paws that move the occasional ones in sub-vibrations softening in the shiny mark of the sessile columns in consistency of its weak receptive propagation and masculine science, lacking what prospers with moist regulars of flashes that are cooling from their imbibition. With thousandths of his enchanted parasitizing and prior ego I wonder afterwards not far from a Para-Celestial and sacrilegious lore of Lochnith; Who, what and where would have been able to support such or such, rising on the beams and girders that make a whole for an inaccurate Menthe, going to the arcane of the seventh external love with clear magenta lights, on rounded ultraviolet reliefs, here is where everything lulls from the adverb Eleusis, seething with a consonant flight that suffocates in spite of a Pseudo Vernarthian, where it will go without any exception disrupting the courses of hesitation, leaving no more the divine portent and going back to the loaded Cibatus or barley in northwests that flatten ultra winter, mowed down to its glacial bluish water discharge in unequal thickening of fast secrets with thirds of vox with bordering called in pair of trios, and symbolic of a reborn flashed subsoil of a lifetime swollen in its low course and ministerial occultation that isolates itself on Patmos. The skies were beaten where nothing germinates from dreams waiting for thousands of those like me with acute senses of the Anthesterion, or of March taking me towards an enigma not posed even if it is not clarified yet not resigning from love or smelling in the singular uni-lunar desolate with venerable fulminations and inquinas of the branch of the bakchoi, which was whistled by an Aulós that was remade generic when restarting fasting from a day rebuked and repaid in the emaciated Cibatus. Such light grasses were polarizing prohijadas when recovering from resounding beginnings of the rhizomatous aromatic nuance, and from super life machined from the metallic oscillation of the fires and rites ruined in the aromatic arthrophagous of Lochnith, nauseating at night in flowing enigma and gramineous rictus, intermingling while he longed for the ritual and his graceful plumes in feasts that honored his Canephores transferring mead towards the bakchoi psychic adept revealing himself from the masculine to the feminine in aqueous positive bed and supra negative redemption, which was fading into sharp matter attended while the world was created that they would live with more than forty stratagems, seeing themselves praised before their eminent Truth. Myself…being its own tyranny…, which erects whoever classifies it sacramental, and notices the squalid lack of control of its barbarism flash when I still pursue the darkness of my purge that is falling even without finding where to do it, falling however from its end and of guilty thunderous glances..., what more public decree do I wish, for more rituals that you have close to you when feeling sharp minorities of its aftertaste although in double life and night your memory continues to spy on whoever denatures you from the paganism of Lochnith, more than a proselyte , plus that a lien conceived in dethroned galleys of homeland and fusca haze. Meanwhile, quantities of Omphalos from the ego micro center are distancing themselves from mine, my faded lost throne hallucinates lost knowing that it is a probable sculpted flash subject to the gleaning of the Cibatus in fraction of the cereal ritual, and of sanctified illumination with tableares that have to dwell all the times that they revive from the vivid purple red, and from the debtor clairvoyant mystery sky that is reviving in the revealed luminescence that throws it in ornate nickels and acidic rattles at midnight falling on a positive particle devoid of yours returning to mine, and preparing for the flashing praise that pigeonholes him from his crippled fallacious and previous theory suggested after favors by not being reconverted. Lochnith capitulate capitulation suffers from glare towards her beloved, placing his phalanges on circular and angular waves on the virtual milky river of Eleusis caressing her face and glare from her. “I, Lochnith, was on the cliff with my Canephor Aerse, near his Athenian paternal landlord, I was going to say goodbye to myself and carelessness, not being able to see myself in the reflection of the water separated from my ego, knowing that Aerse would not choose me, much less to my abandoned superior.

In Keri on the Island of Zakynthos, I synchronized the fall of Aeschylus in Leucas, which perhaps without my local would offend me by reputation and snoop on cliffside suicides that only see nascent effigies of the bakchoi as a potion for serials of life and cities of the incongruous dramatic space , where its tragedy and antithesis do not fit in the basket carried by my priestess Aerse. I am flying over the structures of the acropolis, not yielding as a deity who prophesies where there is no room for the world in which she and I can inhabit. Lochnith, jumped after her as she was falling down the frontispiece of the cape..., She watched him as he fell..., forbidding to skew him from his gestures and get close to her so as not to fall where the wind is more docile and free, intervening with pashkein inclination or entangling them of the vipers and rims of the heroic hair in a condition of evanescent reckless touch against her suitor, trapping her from the Omphalus that she had tied to her neck transferred from brilliant didactics before a puerile boxing of vicissitudes, and spring flower shops next to the flayed serpents of Persephone and Kashmar floating on the Lilies of Aerse. Prey to the escarpments and cliffs, she remained possessed among the sedimentary dolomites that emanated near her veins before plunging down the steep side in over cascading prayers for her, always knowing that he would love her on a singular base of enchantments while he looked smiling before fall yielded In the end, forty-one seconds she was thrown off the cliff..., Lochnith passes from one end to the other the Omphalus of her neck by a lofty plume ready for love, imagining herself in the midlands of a ruthless positive affection of the mysterious flashing Eleusino, and by the divided ***** that took them as they fell into a splendid world with serials and images of Aerse, tied to the prehensile sacrifice and the cold hand of Lochnith, together as they fell between their subconscious selves, becoming heaped and vivid as something plunged towards them fleetingly, knowing that he I was going to survive him.

Lochnith's gleam was northwest of Athens once lost in the scrupulousness of a pagan polis and cult that kept docked in the sands to find her on the cliffs of the acropolis, where they had lost each other after two thousand years since they Theodosius abolished by decree the rituals of Eleusis. With revulsion and unprecedented insight, Aerse remained a recluse with excessive eagerness to self-eliminate, possessing for both the due imagination that he had possessed of the devoid neckline of the omphallus causing the inclination of the avalanche and their bodies towards where they supposedly would land on the divine and Dionysian path which leads to the eschatological of Vernarth's Diokitis. Apparently they were leaving as a result of an immortal Vernarthian existential catastrophe or decline, at the same time of a rhythmic alkaloid hemlock with its Achene that carried them for any pretense by being triggered towards the meeting with Persephone without her or he knowing why to fester at Eleusinos as Lochnith and Aerse in a single concentric whole, and quantum beings of the octagonal by the straight or transversal line that slipped into the hypotenuse at the instant that they were conceived implicitly as they took him from relapses when he went towards Aerse, after winding up from his conclave Hypomorphic writing and Magna Mater Misterica. Under the established power of his ministerial, the redemption that went in adjoining the ins and outs was consigned to resurface from the subgenre, and from himself procreating exultation with the analogs of Vernarth that were prolonged in excremental purges and disagreements of the cult of what should be twisted in the ****** of the magnetic genre and of positive tendency that would be eternalized after the cessation of the active decrees by Theodosius. Eminently Aerse suffered on some semi-dead watery slabs next to Vernarth, she remained after the agreement to centralize what irradiated her humanly as semi-Itheoi from a reinforced gender that was cohesive in retrograde worship to achieve pre-flowering in all the springs of the world, where they could be seen together with Persephone in the finnis that was distanced ultra terrestrial towards a dowry of profusion and disproportionate wealth, not being categorized as a mystery rather as an unknown of a super method of rummaging in the lanterns where no reflection of Aerse could to be found by Lochnith after getting lost in the polychrome figures of the acrotera, lying in watery nitrosities on the escarpment of the cliff. Physiology will influence Eleusis with systematic naturalness for the active hydrogenated elements, and of such unknown prebiotics or phyto-estrogens where remnants of the great sepulcher of humanity are manifested, as it is found to rise from the true hecatomb of July with a hundred halters arranged with foreign beings towards the oasis of transition. The little will of the annals will multiply in millennia of obscurantism, taking him in transit to a more exciting late management by harassing the search for Aerse in a clear mystery already in the jaws of a clamoring night by the reefs of Demeter for those who know about Persephone! even being with the inventive fallacy of a addicted spirit in correlation to the rite and its lineage. Every night that he convalesces, he will look sleepless with the servile promise of divinity from a vision that fades from the winepress and the Boedromion party, moving from the born ****** position of a hierophant towards the mold that dies and that does not renew itself from Boedromia itself. The representation of Aerse was reflected with transfused majolica and Eleusinian threads when she was seen walking from the beginning floating remotely in the meadows of the knoll, from which the cyclical anagram of the lost cliff rises when it separates from its Adonis being able to expose them in mythological treachery and transcended from epic truth to be related to the treaty between Zeus, Hades and Demeter for the rescue of Persephone after being dented from the beginning of the arcana that sprouted from a distorted symptomatology. She aerse carried the flayed serpents even on her body as if she should look for them in an omnipotent volatile gray so that it would come out by itself and be unguarded by her gone eyes, witnessing secrets and resting in anarchy from where there is not and will not be. Archon or governor What a mesmerizing problem is improvised from second after third that provoke astonishment to see him in the course that he could not have of his cursed detection! Aerse was beginning as a curious Canephore, he came to meet his ephebes Lochnith after excessive self-inferred hypotheses by following him at her command detailing the Kykeon that paled her psychotropically from a discarded and mineral exhibition, of which she would be devoured by the numinous portent of the Mashiach with his Sunday appearance or concerning the numen manifested with the eternal powers in front of the hieratic presence of the man who looked at her paternally, with a crass profile like a Damian Hessian drawing them in, plotting in a colossal fascinating stealth. Here she wraps him up but does not approach him and falls, lost in love, such a Faustus dilemma, granting herself at the initiation of the portal of the twelve lunar months in Eleusis, with immutable years and origins where they will bounce to meet in childhood that made them known as Aerse and Lochnith . Here in the greatest trance of life, both would begin to overcome all the twists and turns of the gestated gloom that separated them due to the shaken annoyance and confusion still divergent in sediments of runoff and bark oscillations that emerged from the unevenness of the acropolis, until a meeting in the amazing light and divine libertarian of two tendernesses, and martyrdoms that purely push them back towards a new end of the muddy gleam in a found paradise where the sea unfolds by male consciousness and is ratified mercifully in each flash of the striated. They will meet again in similar attachments divided by the fluctuating one who unmasks the one who drives him away with his dominant ******, and ill-advised caudal space seducing the contiguous public and private astral bodies that have never been coarse or dissimilar in ablution or sacraments of gods the pagans, everywhere nor whatever its fragmented remains by the gullies and ravines of the Kêphisos. After the remnants in politics, the desolate serpents of Aerse flowed down the river, as a link section that declared itself from an initial that was an evident flash that enveloped them as a cardinal canon with bucolic politics in all the nearby regions. Athenians, after the vertiginous regressive parapsychology like an Eleusino flahsback or Anadromí sto Parelthón Eleusia, with the visualizations of Aerse and Lochnith when they follow each other through the learned induction of feedback that was arranged in the inclinations of both, refining their morphological bastimento for the purpose of instituting them as articulators of the evocation of the millennia. Prophecies were reported from the 8th century BC. with ends, and interprocesses of the eternal in the unknown mystery that began to be clarified with the reinvented personality of the amendment of Life and Expiration experienced with Lochnith of the month of Boedromia, fleeing from a federated Polis that would be unified to a substantial dimension and of sacred Eleusinian space with brand new warmongering for the culminations of being incorporated into the Hexagonal Primogeniture integrated in this way in the indissoluble ephemeris of foundation and hegemony of the Megaron or Opisthodomos of Patmos. This is thanks to the beaten serpents that were nesting the reanimates of the question with subterfuges that make the widths of inter-pairs prevail, which are consolidated as a reality of session and space, agreeing on the defeated parapsychological memory or future in the economy of two resignation blocks of the repealed Sacred Space, in consensus of the beams of the Vernarth Military Command forging from the beating sacralized ***** that cultly intensified from its mysterious nature and territorial domesticity to come from the attracted Agoras that were repositioning themselves with the metaphysical agents that they will be restored in the polis with the scope of furrowing in a civic action induced towards someone who virtually recognizes him in the purge of the exclaimed strangers. More ardent passion was added to receive them even being wary of further mutations vibrated with the Faskéloma, or exasperating that moves the tint of the occasional vibrations, similar to the tendencies of the Sacred Space of Gethsemane, with the disastrous passing of the aqueous levels of the Kêphisos, which it would mean the presumptive ordinal of unreal historical worlds. The parapsychology of space was absorbed with torched quadrilaterals that were hanging from the invoked meditation, they were lying on futile folders and anodyne Aerse molecules, which were still welcomed by the magical exposed extra-corporeal substances that were deduced as they were experiencing unprecedented transit preserved of the eccentric deconcentrated radio of the refurbished of the spectral chromatic. The precipitated mental field dared to invade boldly towards another unheard-of generator that dissipated between Aerse and Eurydice coming near the Coasts of Patmos, coming from hypothetical planes that flow for their definitive moderated unions. The static refluxes bounced in simultaneity of bilocation of the Eleusinian exordia that were exorbitating each other with the rollers that were uncrossing the corporeal margins that concelebrated the quantum crankshaft, and the fibrous distinction that was teleporting the rescue rituals unforeseen astrological

Lochnith says: “in the proximity of the mortuary reality there will be no hesitation outside of our body and geodesy of our lost zafral or of lives in transit sub or supra quantum, obsessing in the eyes of erudition and unknowns, while our contraption self-obstructs with our electromagnetic sensory interactions paraphrasing in the convoluted distance and residues of related-metaphysical electros that are reconverted into the appearance of a premonition” The ligation of the arteries of Cephisus carried the emanations of Lochnith to love him in a healing act suspended with beings devoid of physicality, on the way to specters and healings of a perverse, to repair his extra-corporeal suffering confined to those who condescend to the androecium and gynoecium as a unit of mental physical motor gender, at the instant of the exacerbated and ectoplasmic world regulated by means of the Vernarth regression that was going lowering your blood pressure, increasing your red blood cells side effect rivers intertwined with Eurydice and Aerse in the opening Othon, directed at Vernarth's outcomes that came in the bow of the super-aqueous ship with some fabrics from the ship's stowage directing the speculative and autonomous advance that was already dispersing in the waves. Dead cells of the right Lynothorax,  A savvy military mancomunal became syncretic with Lochnith, he was determined to continue reinstalling us in his white blood cells that rose when it was already dawn on the shores of independent Skalá, and in the circled cohorts of Phalanxes and Psiloi that accompanied him in minutes that seemed millennia, all succumbing to the physical dismay of the underlying necrosanct and telepathic prayer that took place at the dawn of parapsychology trances cysts of recovery that descended on them in pure novel regenerative membranes, persé of merciful acts that became thick in the flashes when freezing from the weightless rays of the ultraviolet, which was separating between Sóma and Gnómi or corporal opinion that was joining synthetic networks with indefinite emissaries and receptors, subsequent bodies of the Bachkoi chemist, already deficient for a compensatory universe and varieties that were taking shape in a disintegrated emotional quantum world. Each time the bodies were reinserting themselves into the full unknown and subjective material, the concrete material united in the network with each other as a single force was transforming into the greatest passion and sparkle among their own, reinstalling themselves in the Super Egos.

In the Latest Minute Dogmate according to the rictus mortis thesis, the globules would move like a big explosion interacting with everything, so starting everything from the beginning of nothing to the indivisible with optional digits of coincidence or inseparable digitized, such a phenomenon of meekness of aligning times were massified with the probability of finding them in the vestige of real anomalous presences that occurred millions of light years ago. Aerse replies: “My admiration, the sparkle has a measure of astral body in reason of the vigor that underlies reiterated expiation and measurable virtuosity in its perfection of semblance p and corporal providence, inquired of being transformed far from disaffection rather than a continuous healing . The smallest and most coherent in the fabulous Griffins will join my clairvoyant and component with the ballast of his final game, not reflective of another who can measure or predict him for an undivided being. But I am already here, and I am your infinite…, I no longer know of other bad illusions of trying to separate myself from this life of what Eleusis is, perhaps a cosmic coarse that is and was in all time that passes speculatively, for this flash that is reflects whether it pales visible or not, I hope it will be compact on our intertwined attachments”
As living organisms, various life methods will be postulated as an initiative in the announced Big Bang, for the profit of those who are real close and real logotypes of resonant neuroscience as a daring that will influence the progeny, for ****** volumes, exonerations of bearers experiences and evolutionary lives of the emitter outside of an ignored Parthenon, since the gender of the world is also associated with random ambiguities from anode to cathode, positive-negative towards a Hellenic parallelism of roots in life dressed with lasting vernacular inheritances. Much of Lochnith's electro-dermal conglomerate was in full congruence with retrograde Eleusian parapsychology propagating from Vernarth's Invisible Eclectic Portal, which was nebulously teleported down the Kêphisos River with saprophytic living organisms acknowledging it in indigenous originality. of the species of reborn Vernarth, and super regulation of the euphemism and mysterious underworld below their protocols.

Revelations of the mental-material, made reluctance and support of the estrangement of inviolate perceptions, precognitions, telepathies and premonition, which debuted in this intrepid adventure intuiting in perpetuity with the sensory corridors and interferences of a reality of body in an explosive world incontestable. Lochnith, was already in possession of a hypnotic mental reincarnation formula in the form of neuroscience vessels close to scarecrows of expiration, allocating the subsequent locks of an enlightened decency of the ethereal sleepy baggage and the oracular review. The more we experience the laws that explain his prodigies, the more our perspective of media and complete fiction will increase in something that begins to be typical of the laurel of a true slowed-down ******-kinetic process. Within the curvature and the dim light that remained in the Lochtian days, normality returned to them after this long epitome in the parapsychological biosphere, and the intriguing contemplation and even mischievous tenuity of idea that can die suddenly, after self-incubate in the intangible coexisting passage and medication rupture of lived art with alien morbid beings. For a character archetype, it is only known that reaping is consuming capital from the disruption of a non-profit loss and its incontrovertible paranormal, which is paranormal and parapsychological from the plane of posterity of life, which will be an act of peaceful coexistence in playful spirits, compensating for seclusion in the vaults of an involutionary dramatic past, if its material or monad (spiritual) is not dissected in the cosmic train of perception of unfolding, and of the concept of purging energy that goes out of its way in its seventh heaven. The hypnosis of death and purgation to whoever requires it in the convoy of their conscience continues to be a tiny unruly space that transports us physically, reverting to minimums that are neutralized in alien foundlings. From an aedicule depository to an empty body that is neither independent nor from the lord who claims it (V.g. aedicule of José de Arimatea). The impersonal voices that officiated at the ritual of Eleusis were heard far beyond those who could hear them merely with memorable spaced therapies, recording themselves in interspersed layers of sounds and imprecise electroacoustics in the serial of an alarming complex frequency of the regenerative stumble in an organism of Continuous movement. Everything spreads in bends of abstraction that revives those who promote the perfection of marigolds like buttercups that they wear in the clothing of the Canephores like Aerse, but soulful and latent ephemeral of the ethereal alchemical entitative of ignored molecules. Lochnith says: “My submission heals, it no longer maintains being far from who represents it and where it comes from, I know that its remains in me do not reason, clarifying more my journey towards the crown and vilifications of a nascent humanity that mourns me, and that does not recognizes by rebelling in my desires to attract him"
the sky closes in vermilion digression and you inquire that they should answer for the silence of confusion in the parapsychological aqueducts of Athens with Patmos. The organization of the Sacred Space starts with the bizarre totemic quantum by sacred paths, Megarons, fictitious hunting places, double surrounding lunar ring, curves of virtual walls, Propylaea to embrace the Vernarthian enigma and finally the Telesterion that received Vernarth with a naked torso that perched in front of Aerse and Lochnith, looking at them towards the futuristic survival with five digits in a quarter of the waning of his right hand containing the small coat of Betelgeuse and the Pleiades in inklings of the umpteenth apocalyptic Megaron of Patmos. Scrupulosity as an Electro-Eleusian placebo effect, went alone, dismissing itself in the singular of a Templar niche and towards a Megaró-Omega Telesterion for catechized who endowed themselves with super-resident halos and litters of priesthoods that fled in terror from the Aerse-Lochnith fusion, prior to each rudeness and their contours swearing eternal exaltation and idealism, to be reconverted into individuals saved and votive to love each other with third parties, escaping from small frames that still did not hold up from the ecumenical mess.
Lochnith Eleusis Quantum
(revamped, retooled, and reviewed for the mad council).

Admiration and kudos to quick as
greased lightening witted language
mongers gifted with means to deflect,
stave off, or thwart venemous, sacri
legious, pompous,et cetera lethal
impacts delivered chiefly to ***
*** in ate character, degrade, ex
Cory ate, where deliberate hefty
insult bruited viz zit head via bit
ting acrimonious gloating by some

trumpet ting twelfth knight, Mar-a-
Lago dwelling, Don Juan, Cassa
nova interloper ideally to be met
and taken rite off guard with cutting,
fitting, and incriminating scythe leant
taste of bitter pill as bad medicine
measure for measure, which earns
repartee deliverer at the least (cut
ting to, the quick principled litter
a chore thieving magpie klepto

maniac maven anyway) raising
the bar, per how can eye whip up
a creative reply to ward psychic
bruises as would be confirmed
by an x-ray evidencing sharp black
Amy Lloyd Barbs lobbed my way.  
Plight reiterated and described again re
phrased as mine good humor hum
dinger mew zing ct-scan reveals
(outsize funny bone) pinpointing

tiny thesaurus sim card firmly
permanently embedded, where temple
(my Mansfield) binds as the Great
Chaim Yonkle yiddish alt pun stir Perry
Como crooning se yammo, a friendly ****
mum exchange (minus jet lag) oye vay,
boot how novel, if I could wit
ness (or personally experience) quick
lightening rod quips would come to me
rescue (supercalifragilisticexpialidocious),

but generally, honestly and indubitably,
this flustering rhymster, who with bluster
brownian movement attests and accepts
slow moving cogs and wheels of his
aging noggin normally, notoriously
and nominally NEVER nsync with
nearly top notch national scrabbling
Facebooked bountiful brigands, this
will never happen to utter trail blaze
zing, nail biting, and hair raising awe

some adage, badinage, and/or  persiflage
more likely than not, mum hindlacks
proper cerebral mechanism to dream,
and get linkedin exactly at  prime time.
An absolute beauty of a doozy, flapping
like a ******, hypothetically intimated be
totally tubularly groovy, man and find
me a bit woozy with flickr ring shutterfly
twittering wii zing hacking, joyous, and
kindling euphoria asthma sign us would

go thru roof of mouth boot opportunities
foregone to daydreaming after serious
lapse of time, yet speculatively, and in
sum re: prime tete a tete would spring up
to parry, defang, and blunt puncture of
mine  psyche (imaginatively zinging red
zinger, would be one for the record books),
sans right on cue, rapier jabbing (yet art
fully crafted), an unusually timely resip
rick cal sparring touché (leading com

petition, by my itty, bitty ditty), witty
award winning smart riposte would a
rise supremely after incidents arose from
circumstance, yet twin next opportunity
passes, the critical moment will slip,
away suspecting sanctimonious sham
rock leprachaun spiritedly skewered
lucky charms finding me wishing the
means existed to conjure an instant replay
all to often when recipient of unkind word,
taken aback sans ideal return synaptic salvo.
The rainbow’s bright colors gazed out of their prism, speculatively, cautiously, almost contrarily, with no wall to paint their patterned pictures on, fading into irrelevance as they vanished into the void .

Time ; torturous and tyrannical, toyed with the torrential turbulence, as it’s transitive tenaciousness thoughtlessly, tactlessly, tooled through the torrid tempest .

The starry-eyed girl gazed glassily across the expanse as if in a quandary over the night sky .

A half human silhouette in a sky filled with thunder heads and birds of prey rooted in a tapestry of alien galaxies and blazing stars playing a melodian .

Water glistened on the skin of the naked woman and rainbows danced in the air before her as the waves crashed against the rocks .

A young man with a pony tail in the center of the back side of his head played his drum while he danced on the grass .
The Atlantean Conspiracy
by Eric Dubay

The class “Dinosauria” was originally defined by “Sir” Richard Owen of the Royal Society, and Superintendent of the British Museum Natural History Department in 1842.  In other words, the existence of dinosaurs was first speculatively hypothesized by a knighted museum-head “coincidentally” in the mid-19th century, during the heyday of evolutionism, before a single dinosaur fossil had ever been found.  The Masonic media and mainstream press worldwide got to work hyping stories of these supposed long-lost animals, and then lo and behold, 12 years later in 1854, Ferdinand Vandiveer Hayden  during his exploration of the upper Missouri River, found “proof” of Owen’s theory!  A few unidentified teeth he mailed to leading paleontologist Joseph Leidy, who several years later declared them to be from an ancient extinct “Trachodon,” dinosaur (which beyond ironically means “rough tooth”).
Wednesday, September 9, 2015


The Atlantean Conspiracy
by Eric Dubay

The class “Dinosauria” was originally defined by “Sir” Richard Owen of the Royal Society, and Superintendent of the British Museum Natural History Department in 1842.  In other words, the existence of dinosaurs was first speculatively hypothesized by a knighted museum-head “coincidentally” in the mid-19th century, during the heyday of evolutionism, before a single dinosaur fossil had ever been found.  The Masonic media and mainstream press worldwide got to work hyping stories of these supposed long-lost animals, and then lo and behold, 12 years later in 1854, Ferdinand Vandiveer Hayden  during his exploration of the upper Missouri River, found “proof” of Owen’s theory!  A few unidentified teeth he mailed to leading paleontologist Joseph Leidy, who several years later declared them to be from an ancient extinct “Trachodon,” dinosaur (which beyond ironically means “rough tooth”).
Yours truly (an amazingly,
gracefully, and markedly modest
passively aging baby boomer -
formerly introverted long haired
pencil necked geek),
prattling wordsmith doth behold
nostalgic memories regarding father
(Boyce Brandon Harris)
long ago lapsed decades

during papa's prime time
many years past when complacence
existed about joie de vivre,
and considerations about mortality irrelevant,
where soothsayers promised
our family staying alive for eternity
few and far between instances found me
acting, exhibiting, illustrating brazenly bold
behavior, said rare spontaneity
the exception versus the rule,

hence following poem crafted
an endearment to those who begat me,
resorted to discipline, but NO spanking
ever since mama did cherish her little boy
scores of years before she passed away
at her death hands went limp and cold
as a shy lad his maternal and paternal parents
their virtues he extolled
contrary, now healthy sexagenarian
born of sturdy genetic mettle

rumor claims I suckled magic potion,
cuz courtesy to preventative medicine
mother followed advice
of one Carlton Fredericks,
renown radio commentator
and writer on health and nutrition
ne'er did mine lovely bones buckle,
even when skinny body crushingly embraced
into loving maternal fold,
without doubt mama adored motherhood
and brood of three offspring

harmonized, memorialized, pampered...
the hardworking de facto breadwinner
late twenty something handsome groom fêted
born April 9th, nineteen twenty nine,
Brooklyn fortune teller travails foretold,
when the late Harriet Harris, not so gold
din as totally bewitched, she gamely evinced
controlling authoritarian versus
crooning, marveling, and warbling
regarding once "little monkey" - me,

which pet name no longer applied
shucked off brought to abrupt halt
as yours truly grew up,
and decried childhood's end
I experienced objection to thwart growing up,
and latched unto anorexia nervosa
countless moons ago,
when I biologically, emotionally,  
intellectually, and sexually transitioned
into socially withdrawn young man,
once indomitable omnipotent

mother/son bond ex post facto lost hold,
where once applicable theme
exemplifying Harris household
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
dramatically, markedly plummeting
formerly measurable appreciable tolerance,
similarly short tempered patriarch
( ~6'2” ~ 200 lbs at prime)
over any five members,
especially toward singular male offspring

timid, meek, and demure (effeminate) me,
essentially ruled the roost
regarding Harris household
sole son characterized vis a vis
presented passive resistant
outward nonestablishmentarian mold
worst case scenario
would hypothetically witness
Matthew Scott Harris
spending longevity old and feeble minded
at 324 Level Road

outliving parents, pets
(comprising inordinate
number of dust bunnies) and siblings,
both caring and concerned girls
(an older and younger sister),
the latter whose globetrotting exploits I envied,
nevertheless yours truly
speculatively imagined himself
to have outlived anyone polled
even Methuselah, where mein kampf
blissful, fanciful, nouveau poet
nearly long forgotten boyhood charade,
facade inlaid masquerade

analogously crumbled like broken scaffold
attaining centenarian years old -
faintly maintaining umbilical stronghold
considerably surpassing mommy dearest,
born November 13th, nineteen thirty five,
yet moments before her passing
she barely audibly apologized
for occasions she did reprimand and scold
retaliated against grim reaper,
he whisked her diseased riddled body away
after completing approximately
seventy plus orbits, all told.

I experienced interminable
relentlessly psyche burning acrid
tormenting, teasing, and talking funny
bullying vulnerability compounded amid
courtesy of split uvula set me apart
alien as a Druid livingsocial
during latter half of twentieth
and first two plus decades
of twenty first century
rather a speech pathologist
informed legal biological guardians

regarding Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic
minor congenital defect when
attending sixth grade at
Henry Kline Boyer Elementary
i.e., submucous cleft palate, aforesaid
whereby every day akin getting scorched
by some "NON FAKE" ironclad grid
me, this twangy nasal kid
my undersized and socially
withdrawn demeanor contributing
to existence tumultuous and turbid.

Extreme shyness demeanor
did heavily exhibit
as if burdened with a yoke
linkedin with anatomical diminutiveness
punctuated with aforementioned
pinched nose adenoidal sound,
quite obvious when I infrequently spoke
conveniently availed himself
as cannon fodder i.e. scapegoat to bullies
as a socially withdrawn pre/
post pubescent slowpoke.

— The End —