Cannot believe that it came from your lips
When we have survived so many hardships
Weathered together such crazy life storms
Now comes in anger, that word that deforms.

In heated battles, we've cussed all we could
Every word used that we knew never should
But that word, that word, you screamed it at me -
The one whose lover till death you would be?

Burnt skin by hot coals in fires on dunes -
Nothing compared to the burn of these wounds.
Wish you had rather thrown at me a dish
Or used a gun to say "I will end this!"

Did you really? Is that what you said, love?
Did you scream that while the knife you did shove?
How could you? How would you? Yeah, perfect I'm not.
Feeling the slice, seeing drip the red blots.

Sobbing and puking as my ribs you part
To reach in my chest and tear out my heart.
Ten years of marriage, together fifteen,
Fights, we've had many, but this - what a scene!

You hate me? You HATE me? Oh sh*t! It's true.
Without you I won't know how to make do.
Oh dearest light of my life what's this pain?
Your love the rare thing I could count as gain.

That word we had sworn we never would use;
You used as the sword my soul to abuse.
It is a cut that you cannot undue.
I love you! I LOVE you! Please know that's true.

Perhaps now you do know my love is true,
Holding my heart in your hands, as you do?
****** mess made ripping it from my chest;
Sending me off to an untimely rest.

Now dead, I can see. I know it's not hate.
My pooled blood now given your tears as playmate
Long crimson pink lines now your face striate
Soon you will join me, in death I await.

Sept. 5th, 2020, 6:35am (wondrous palette)

the sun risen, but a solid foothold as of yet unestablished;
the new day’s skies borrow coloration from nearby sources,
no unique identity bright enough as of yet to call its own;
thin cumulus streaks, striate against an unidentifiable blue
paleness, more to contrast than to claim,  “here we are!

the bay is in labor: multi hues of blue intermingle, as the
light illuminates each part differentially; soon enough,
one hue will come to dominate, just like you, soon enough,
a single hue will dominate, and this day will be distinct,
and who knows? perhaps even distinctive enough to be
memorialized.

minute to minute is the ever changing interplay; unlike a
human, this rapidity maturation is unafraid to experiment
with new combinations but-based on prior recalled self-
examination; something on the water, a small boat low and
close flat to the surficial; a skiff, a rowboat with no oars,
drifting, languishing on the fishing spot, unmoving unhurried
humans aboard, thinking, this is the good way to start living

last comment; tiny hinting shades of violet, pink and orange
exist, hard to discern so well blended are they with the norm
of broader blue and vanilla white and then all readily apparent!
this is the new days message, we are what we appear to be,
one earth, one sky, indivisible but born from a wondrous palette;
and so yet another first poem of the day is created, a verbal
prélude, étude, unique but a product of its many ancestral
predecessors, just like, we the people.

The clouds striate      
and stratify
into the gray.
In the divide
a candle bloom
consumes the night
as shadows stray,
and shadows stray,
to coalesce
and incarnate.
As shadows stray,
and shadows stray,
like travelers
of the arcane.

And thunder rolls
down a stale sky
into the fray
of a twilight.
A candle bloom
consumes the night
as shadows stray,
and shadows stray,
to coalesce
and incarnate.
As shadows stray,
and shadows stray,
like travelers
of the arcane.

23 August 2021

Days of summer heated, change to a darkening crisper fall.
Life hardens, coils, preparing for the resting-rusting, of winter.
Uncertain. a chick-a-dee flutters nearby, astride berry-laden branches.
Winter snows, will soon burden it's call.

One lone black squirrel, stands squatting on it's edge.
Nose buried in an oddly brown fur tail, it's own.
Remnants of scaled snake skin, hold drops of this morning's rain.
A few old dry brown twigs, hang broken, thorny-brown leafed hedges.

Hints of dampness twist in the mild winds from the south,
Truth of illusion marks a yellow, uneven, fading, distant, horizon.
Somewhere, a tenor beagle howls, mournfully, to emptiness.
Young girls, moving together, striate their celebrations of youth.

There is an ache in my hips and neck this morning.
Heart wane filled, wistful.
Melancholy of dog days on unhealed roads twisting,
Memory of times, long past, fistfuls,
I never can restart, mourning.

I stand beside that long open road, neverland of lost dreams.
Fruit-bare search for meaning. Nature's transitions and streams.

Northwest of Athens, once lost in the polis of religiosity and pagan worship, Lochnith followed the shoulder to find her on the cliffs of the Acropolis, where they had lost each other, after two thousand years since Theodosius would repeal by decree the Eleusinian rituals. Of rejection and unprecedented glimpse, Aerse was reclusive in her excessive desire to eliminate herself, being for both an unreality because he had possessed her by the neck devoid of the omphalos, causing the avalanche of their bodies and souls towards where they would supposedly perch on him. divine and Dionysian eschatological path leading to the Diokitís of Vernarth, supposedly going to the derivation of a catastrophe in existential decline but immortal Vernarthian, being a rhythmic hemlock with his Aquenio, who carried him from his right chest, for any pretense of being triggered to the encounter of Persephone, without her or he knowing why Eleusinus festering with Lochnith and Aerse as a single concentric whole in quantum beings of the dodecahedron and octagonal by straight or transversal line, which slipped away in the hypotenuse where the serpents were implicitly conceived, leading to relapses when they went to Aerse and wound up in his Hypomorphic spelling and Magna Mater conclave Mistérica, under the organizational power of his ministerial redemptive slogan and bordering on the intricacies that arose in sub-genres of himself procreating exultation in Vernarth's analogues, which were prolonged in eschatological purges and disagreements of the cult objective that must twist from the gender womb, but in magnetism of positive polarization and in a plethora of tendency that would eternalize after the cessation of assets decreed by Theodosius.

Aerse eminently half-dead with Vernarth, was after the compromise of repolarizing what was semi-human splendid into semi-gods from a bi-gender, which coalesced in a retrograde regenerative cult, to achieve reflorals in all the springs of the world, where they could be seen with Persephone in a Finnis that distanced himself from the ultra-earthly towards a dowry of profusion and disproportionate wealth, but not categorized as a mystery, rather as an unknown of a super method when poking the lanterns where no luminescent reflection of Aerse could be found by Lochnith, after getting lost in the polychrome figures of the acrotera, lying in the watery nitrosities of their rift and steepness of the acro cliff.

Biotics will influence Systematic Eleusis, of supernaturalness for all hydrogenated active elements, as prebiotics of the unknown remnants of the great sepulcher of humanity, where the true hecatomb of July has to be raised and a hundred oxen arranged in the new beings of the transitional oasis. The meager will of the annals will multiply in millennia of obscurantism, leading Lochnith towards a late, but exciting management of harassing in the search for Aerse, in a clear exo-mystery, already in the jaws of a night shouted by the reefs of Demeter for those who know about Persephone...?, even though it is an inventive fallacy of the addicted spirit in the correlation of rite and lineage. Every night that he convalesces, he will look insomniac in the servile promise of divinity in a visage that is undressed in his winepress and the festival of Boedromion, towards the born corporal position of a hierophant who dies from this mold and in which he does not renew Boedromion himself.

The iconography of Aerse was reflected in majolica transfused in the Eleusinian streams when Aerse was seen walking from afar floating in the meadows of the knoll, where he set himself up as cryptography of the lost cycle of the cliff when he separated from Lochnith, being able to expose his treachery mythologically and truly transcending epic, relating to the treaty between Zeus, Hades, and Demeter, for the rescue of Persephone, and after being dented on the beginning of the arcane that arose from that amorphous symptomatology. Aerse carried the stripped-down serpents still on her body as if a divine wind had to seek her out so that they would come out by themselves and unguarded, through lost eyes and secret testimonies resting from anarchy from where there is and will not be an Archon or governor, who in rapt trouble improvise a second after the third parties that cause amazement to see you in a process that could not have it of cursed detection.

Aerse, beginning as a Canephore intruder, came to meet her Adonis Lochnith, after the excesses of the self-inferred hypotheses by following him at the command of the gnosis consciousness in her detailing the Kikeon that made her psychotropic ally pale, from the closure of mineral light that was devoured by the numinous portent of the Mashiach, in the presence of herself on dominical or relative to the numen manifesting in eternal powers, before the numinous presence in the hieratic, from a man who looked at her fatherly or in the crass profile of Damien Hessiano, plotting in colossal and fascinating stealth. Here she surrounds him but does not come close and falls out of love, as a dilemma and granting herself an initiation towards a portal of twelve lunar months in Eleusis, for cyclical years and births where they bounce back to meet in the childhood of pre-pubescent that made them known as Aerse and Lochnitt. Here in the greatest trance of life in both beginning, it surpassed all the twists of the gestated penumbra that separated them by shaking of pain and confusion, still being divergent remains of leftover and uncooked serpents of the escarpment of the acropolis, until a meeting of the astonishing divine fire, and libertarian in two martyrs' tenderness that is purely re-propelling them back towards a new end, and muddy shine in a found paradise where the sea unfolds by masculine conscience, and pious is ratified in each flash of a striate, and of rediscovered calculometry in pairs of loves divided by the pendulum of the one who will only unmask the one who drives him away in his dominant ******, and in the misguided space of hieratic seducing in molecules of celestial structures, and urban public and private lawsuits that have never been crude, nor in ablution of simile sacraments of pagan gods, nor everywhere or whatever their dismembered remains parading I know through the creeks of Cefiso.