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P Jan 2017
The heart of one sublimates,
The solid love of youth,
It turns to air - thin and gone.
Reckless to refute.

All those years - turned away,
As if it never was.
The wasteful love, sublimates.
Gone as air but there.
I made this short poem during my chemistry class. We were discussing about sublimation and I got bored; so I made a poem to pass time. Hope you guys like it.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
11:00 PM July 7th 2011
Outside Delacorte Theater,
Home of Shakespeare in the Park
Central Park, New York
~~
What wretched wags
we have become,
sold rhyme and couplet
into slavery and meter sacrificed,
upon the altar of expediency.

LOL and BRB, the hallmarks
of our
insincerity,
forgetting that civility
is resurrected when
we employ the poetry of speech
in our plain and
simple communiques,
most especially in the simple,
please let beauty hold sway.

Brutalize our tongues,
thus our lives,
compression of our language
into single words that celebrate
the mundane, as fashionable.

yeah, yeah, yeah...

Our speech, its fragrance lost,
sublimates but does not sublime,
one liners demean our humanity,  
grunts of yeah and cool,
are awesome not,
our future hope is in
the details of our expression,
whereby we inject
into our verbal demeanor
a grace that sets human
above the existence animal.

So touch this screen and
let us begin,
to take our measure
by our measure
of the care we demonstrate
when we communicate.

These words have transversed
from weekday to weekday,
soon at morning prayers
to the gods inside of me,
David's hymns and poems
I'll recite,
a slow eloquence will infuse
my hallelujah eyesight.

Plain truths will be spoke,
in rhyme with
diction apace,
transfuse my soul
elevate us
severally and jointly
above the confused noises of
the prison of nondescript lives,
leaving me a believer that
all's well that begins well.
Digging out the old ones, when all I got is perspiration sans inspiration. See new companion piece, an ordinary word...
Good Morn New Delhi,
Good afternoon, Auckland!
Jeannette Chin Jun 2011
You were thirsty.
So I said I will meet you in a dream
and pour you a glass of sparkling pink
lemonade over dry
ice. As it sublimates
a shroud of frothy mist
will form and travel past
the brim into the air
between us.

And you will
trace silvery incantations
onto the glass with your
fingertip. The mist will linger, but then
it will thin,
eventually it will evaporate so
all that is left at the bottom
of the cup is a shallow pool
of sparkling lemonade.
Your etchings, dissolved.

At this point in the dream, I will leave
for a few years. When I come back
the cup will still be in the same place
you left it and I will breathe close to it
the fog of my breath will cling
to the glass and like a ghost
it will reappear: All that
disappeared; All that
you wrote, years ago.

Then I will wake up
and forget this dream.
Years are only seconds
combined. The evidence
will remain, my tongue
quaking from the burn
of dry ice. My head
wavering with confusion,
as though what it contains
is not opaque, but foggy,
pink and citrus. From
this point on, I can't say
what will happen to you.
Jack P May 2018
Alex is dead.
Alex is indistinguishable from the soil.
Alex is the dissemination of bad ideas, the confusing of such schools of thought.

Ben feels like Alex is.
Ben is lost in a crowd.
Ben is a poor choice of words, on the wrong end of a loaded barrel.

Alex feels nothing.
Alex feels the twitching of an index finger on the trigger.
Alex does not see her target, but catches the vague outline of a thing lost in translation.

Ben misspoke.
Ben makes a sand angel on a beach of excuses.
Ben is the bottom of a wine barrel, sublimates a clenched fist into an outstretched palm.

Alex is the opposite of sublimation.
Alex is subsumed by id.
Alex is locked in the cast iron *** of what she thinks her friend did.

Ben sits down at the table.
Ben places the gun in her hand.  
Ben cannot do this himself; Alex is shaking, shaking, shaken.

This:    
The vacant lot of 2AM - did she hear him correctly?
Not much of a distance for a voice to travel
Meek and fractured though it may be
So surely she heard what he said; the words "pull the trigger".
But what is the f()king point of an epilogue
If it contradicts the book? And what's the f()king point of a moral compass, if the needle is broken? No more can she read and she doesn't know the difference between North and South, she holds a tooth from The Always Open Mouth.

There are three types of people in this world: those who are rocks, those who are hard places, and those are pinned between the first two. Ben is a rock, and Alex isn't sure whether the only way to help both of them is to stay trapped, or to push him down this hill. Alex feels nothing now. And Ben is indistinguishable from the soil.
instant regret under quilt
Akemi Jan 2017
They keep the air cold to slow the spread. A pale light draws you into existence, a bloom of city smoke and glass. I watch the shadow of your wrist thin as the sun dies. You turn your head away.

Everything thins. Houses shrink. Streetlamps burst. Organs wither. I walk for hours along the wharf. Rain trickles through broken windows and falls into the black harbour. Dust clots the waterways. Skin sheds.

The problem is you were born human. Turned away, you obliterate.

A woman swears at her crying child. She pulls his arm violently. Existence floods the air. A miasma of confusion, fear and hatred. The mirror turns outwards.

You rise with your bed. A fold in a sea of whiteness. It was your spine, they said. The thing holding you together. It was disintegrating, flattening to infinity.

There is nothingness. A flood of it. A pitiless swell that never ends and threatens to crush the world with every breath. Bated wait in a heart white as bone.

Years pass. The loop breaks and I reform it. You lie in a bed of stone. You sink beneath the nothingness of reality. Years pass. The loop breaks and I reform it. You lie in a bed of stone. You sink beneath the nothingness of reality. Years pass. The loop breaks and I reform it. You lie in a bed of stone. You sink beneath the nothingness of—

The IV fluid is imaginary. So is the taste of cold water beneath your tongue. It is a fractal world. A reality formed from a fragmented possi—haven’t I written this before?

There is a traffic accident. I am not there and neither are you. They pull you out of the wreckage, smoke rising from your chest, breast alight with hatred. You gaze at me, a stranger, and I break into shards, each one capturing you like a memento, a death drive.

Ash falls from the sky. I gaze up until I am blind. I reach my hand out and find the neck pulse of the earth. I find you.

I sit in the common room. I shuffle through pieces of myself. There is nothing here but you. Where am I? Where the **** am I? Where is the nothingness between you and I? Someone addresses me. I look up and find myself incapable of speech. I reach out but my arm fails to follow. I listen but cannot catch a word. The bell rings but you aren’t here. I look down. The pieces reflect nothing.

Reality collapses. Hypodermic crash to the libidinal economy. Desire and lack the same. Anticathexis sublimates into worthless ******* words on a document. Wren bursts black particles across the pavement, like cancerous soma running fingers through a spinal column. You smile. I sink. I sink.

The mind is sick with existence. Ganglia, myelin, dendritic sprawls. It all functions. It all works too well. Purpose, connection, reaction. I envy you. I *******—

Winter is here, bright, empty winter, almond grey and silent.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2021
oh i'm pretty sure the anglo-sphere doesn't care much for other tongues... or what happens in them: how they arrived to where they are now... but... sometimes... it comes about by the most curious of circumstances when, the natives & / or their extended family of trans-Atlantic cousins (etc.) start to... mishandle their: zunge... then... something wakes up, that should have been sleeping... in a person who treats this tONG in the confines of: acquisition, rather than something... passed down with: accent... idiosyncrasy... "whereabouts": local "allegiance"...

covert excess drinking:
i'm starting to love it more and more:
i get to play both actor,
a shadow... and fictional death...
all is well when you can
summon the... nerves(?)
to also make a distinction between
making strawberry gelato vs.
strawberry ice-cream...
no eggs more fruit pulp
less cream for the former...
plus... "displacing" things...
you wake up... it's... [there]...
half an hour later it's... "there"...
these spontaneous pockets
of amnesia:
these spontaneous bouts of...
AM... née: SHIA...
how else? Zee-E-E'Ah?
there's another name for this:
SKLEROZA...
it's not an English word...
but the symptoms are:
you get to walk a lot...
it doesn't hurt...
ah... memory... such a fickle faculty...
it's like we were engineered to:
forget in order to: push on
forward and... replicate... procreate...
alas... what if you...
don't want to?
   like an antithesis of
Frankenstein's monster...
who... if written by a man and not
a Mary Shelley would...
play the Sisyphus for a while
and then... do-himself-off...
hanging... stab to the heart
while working out the arithmetic
spacing of soft flesh to ribs...

cumin coriander, garlic ginger
cumin coriander, garlic ginger
cumin, coriander, asafoetida... ginger...

"apparently" it's offensive to call
a dish a curry...
it's more or less just: gravy:
gwavvy...
those blue Indians of Bengal
and elsewhere those Reds
and those Incas never really
drank or for that matter: minded
the concept of yeast...
flat as the platitudes of
Belgian mud or a *******
japati...

it's the middle of the day
i've pickled myself in some 70cl
of bourbon from the night
before and... right
now: with a swiggle and a hum...
i'm pickling...
irritably pickling... some sweet
notes to mind: but otherwise...
sour as a stash of lemons...

and that's fine... because i'm also
thinking about the self-help gurus
and the machinery of:
capitalising on everything:
even death and sickness...

my advice is? read the three musketeers...
my advice: have about 3 maxims handy...
categorical imperatives
or what not...
here are the two that i best behave
under:

Tao: the best way you can help
the world is... to forget the world
and allow the world to forget you...
non-verbatim...

Dumas: the best advice i ever gave was:
to no, under any circumstance:
give advice...
since... if people take it...
will probably regret it...
ergo... blame you for it...

- currently there are two words on my mind...
one borrowed from a list:
parsley sage, rosemary & thyme...
the last on the list... thyme...
not... F-I'm...
thyme... time... thyme... time...
such a delight i have with this tongue:
you can say the same set of syllables
but imply a completely different meaning:
esp. sharpened in writing...
perhaps i was born into a language
that is as clear-cut katakana as no
other European language:
apart from the necessary workaround
of consonant graphemes: just as well as
in English: SHould you CHoose to bother
yourself: with...

i'm still not quiet following the whole
pseudo-grammatical pronoun agenda...
*** is never associated: will never be associated
with nouns in this tongue...
a table is neither masculine nor feminine...
perhaps that's... why pronouns have
imploded?

i'm currently in the process of making
a distinction between strawberry gelato and
strawberry ice-cream...
obviously no eggs in the former...
a 2:1 ratio of full fat milk to double cream...
but the cream needs to be beaten...

slang terms:
LASKA - LAS - forest...
LASKA - a fit: most desirable female...
also a walking-stick...
LODY - ice-cream...
   robić lody - to make ice-cream...
also slang for... *******...
OSTRYGA - oyster...
K'WIAT - flower...
     well... something to counter making ice-cream:
lody... gobble down an oyster?

it's not even that any miniscule variation
of katakana would help...
no stand-alone consonants apart from N...
why N?
always clinging to:
vowel: woman...
consonant... man...
mind you: there is still no concept of ***
bound to nouns in English...
the moon is him
the sun is her...

i'm gently drinking: while also fasting...
the combination with immaculate sunlight...
why wouldn't the flowers be rejoicing?!

excuse me: hrabia: wal-do-dechy
     count: hit-to-the-plank (of wood)...
echoes of expressions of a dead man...
clearly i should know:
born into a language with clear:
Clear syllabic distinctions...
more! added to vowels:                     Ą!

oh... but beside the Italians & the Greeks...
just your European neighbours...
i too don't want to mind the pan-Slavic
movement... some called it communism...
i will never understand what
the Russians were up to...
ha ha... pan-Germanic is sort of happening
while everyone seems: coolly bothered
by something with: an alias...

terrible ideas ought to die...
seems like Marxism is not such a bad idea
if it finds volunteers... zealots to:
revise it... Darwinism does account for
mutations... doesn't it?
like a pig that barks or a dog that oinks...
a bonsai tiger... wait... tigers don't growl...
do they?
they snort apathy or something...
i don't know... i was never placed in front
of one...

murmur murmur... m'hmm something
in the place of: too far away from the sea...
from one wave: to another: mω...
oh... look:
           it's only a double-u if it's an omega-yu...
yule...
    otherwise? sharpen the edges:
v'ah-v'ah: empty the room! Wedge & Whinge
are coming in with a pink-elephant
and five blind men!
should have been expecting a carton of milk...
as you would: armed with a mω a mᵒₒ...

well... at least making ice-cream... ******!
gelato! clearly there are no poultry abortions involved!
is not a sour-note metaphor for...
giving ******* to... a hungry bandwagon
of Pakistanis eager to please
the children of Ing-Land...

   - what a sight! a canvas i have returned to
throughout the day... now:
night has come...
how bewildering to stand in the garden
while two insomniac magpies chase
each others' cackle...
one perches in my eucalyptus tree and
rattles, rattles: cackles... stutters...
so much so that even some poor dog left
in the warm air of September replies
with a bark!

how rare to hear birds tell their presence
in the night...
how rare to hear birds in the night...
how welcome these spies:
they must be either magpies or crows...
it... simply: sublimates their otherwise
cautious presence in the day...
and the magpies cackled in the night
so much so: that even the dog was roused
to bark!

- one glug, two glugs: make it three!
whiskey this cold so it almost resembles some
syrupy liquid ought to be imbued with much glee!
i could make ice-cream all day!

esp. since i have found a most pristine recipe!
i'll be ever the most obnoxious
when i tell you: dear reader
of the difference between ice-cream and gelato...

i think i memorised the two recipes...
ice-cream...
    as a warning: i usually halve the suggested
amount of sugar...
whether that be using raspberries,
strawberries, blueberries...
crème anglaise

mein gott! i'm in one of those rare instances
of life, reality where: *** can be compensated:
or thereby a lack of... an Ava Lauren /
Monique Fuentes...
i like to think of *** like a well-worn...
many a times sat in: leather... arm-chair...
i like that: i don't know what the thrill
with inexperience is... all about...
timid bodies... timid: frail... dolls...
i can compensate this desert of the ****-less...
as a curiosity by some Pakistani who

i could make ice-cream all day...
i'd rather make gelato... but all day...
i could make curry all day...
curry and gelato: i'm your man...

- i abhor sober opinions: let alone sobering up
in the domain of dialectics:
i have enough on my plate with
English: the language...
making no attempt to transcend the Latin script
with any sort of addition of
diacritical markers...
Charlie Dickens: good "sport" might have
included the term: orthography...

one reason leads to another... just bad spelling...
but it's only orthography if...
you apply diacritical stressors...
can have an Empire to rival Rome's with their
alphabet... but can't exactly keep
the neo-gothic Victorian romance
alive... on a mere whim...
look at it! disintegrating into vagabond
graffiti... or... emoji! which is not the same
as breaking away from the kanji in favour
of something more: phonetic...

Koreans & the Japanese are right up there:
on my... ahem "spice" list of ingredients
of people required...
the origins of writing is to: encode sounds...
to write sounds down...
no ideas... not insinuations...
throw the whole bunch of those
sand-******* into a crab bucket and see
what confused :)( comes out... savvy?

sober people and their sober ideas...
always so... *******... serious!
like they mean it... but rarely do they
keep themselves intact on enacting their intent!
i better eat a dollop of whole-grain mustard before
every meal before i deal with:
sober, serious... sen-si-blah... sensible whole lot of them
get the ***** to launch an offensive
on the groovy... gravy... groovy? gravy train...
**** me: it's good to know i'm getting old...
and out of touch...

i get pockets of nostalgia: time... immemorial...
anecdotal evidence that i:
somehow brushed against...
the pain... the strokes... of time...
and made some spatial-coordinate concerns
moving: for-ward...

ice-cream: 5 egg yolks...
bruised by... ha ha... "bruised" whipped to a lighter
colour... some sugar was added...
two cups of double cream... one cup of full fat milk...
a cup of sugar...
your choice of berries: heated up separately...
blah blah... combined... hey presto! an indigestion
pause... relapse...
depending on your temperament...

that's ice-cream... but... gelato! GEE! LA TOE!
T'OH!
no egg yolks...
    2 cups of full fat milk...
one cup of double cream: beaten... whisked...
it has to... half the sugar you're expected to use...
in the berry pulp...
    
i'll need the RRR... why has the trill of the Ar
disappeared in the Ing-Leash tongue:
betäubungzunge: compounded... obviously...
higher tier Germanic... not this... Ing-Leash...
mongrel sort...
so the adjective comes before the noun:
rather than the noun coming prior to
the adjective... i don't want to be asking for:
proper this... eh... proper that...

the exasperated yawns... gags and yelling impositions
of the "liberal" moralists...
like a god finally said: if i gave them
free-will... can "we" just agree that:
they better experience their full: "potential"?
oh i believe in god: but i also believe in free-will...
one counter-acts the other
in the way thus: follows:
to completely have: free-will...
you can't expect a nanny-state c.c.t.v. omni: gwand-p'ah
moment... can you?
there's... sweet & sour...
there's... sweet & salty...
can't have one... without... the other...

my god! genius logic! look for applause
when all the self-deprecating humour dries up...
clap... clap... clap clap...
how can you expect a god...
when... you're also expecting free-will?
you can... no... wait... you can't be a murderer!
Cain... was a vegetarian...
Abel... ably sacrificed a goat... or a sheep...
or two... Cain was a Hebrew version of:
'indu...
so... the northern European mind simply
boils corrupted with: staged logic
and...  the idiosyncrasies of other cultures...
yeah! thanks for the bread... where's, the, yeast?!

you use it?! you... ever used it?!
yeast: you get to say yes a lot...
you allow yourself to encourage to grow bread...
you also make beer...
no? not handy? o.k.: we'll just leave the "appropriate"
answer for the white women folk: people-kind
to conjure up a "properly": response...

ooh... believe me... i can play the grammar game
like... for eternity...
in between being allowed breaks
to do some proper *******...
like... churning strawberry ice-cream...
or making a curry sauce...

i am: SCHEMING!
i'm not going to allow this language to be
left in... *******: tartan: let alone:
tatters... even though it's not my own tongue...
i will not leave it: to... RUIN!
i'd best keep it in runes....

                    ᚱᚢᚾᛖᛋ...

no... you don't tell me what i am: or i am
not... "supposed" to do...
you settle my score on the fabric of
capital punishment... i die... you live...
but... it's not so ******* simple... no?
leech eats leech...
crab bucket...

she's a... three-dimensional woman...
looking for a... two-dimensional man...
ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
i need to write down laughter:
since it's so silent... so covert...
it doesn't really require a stand-up
comedian's solipsism to ****-me-off...
ha ha!
a three-dimensional woman...
looking for a two-dimensional man!
ah ha ha!

goldfish of an ego:
in a muddle of a "think-tank"
of 70cl of... is whiskey...
i could be her grandpa santa
and she could be my selfish elf
quasi dwarf on my knee:
not readied for a spanking:
i'm so turned off by modern *******

time is a concept i'd rather forget....
father Xavier...
i just want to make ice-cream:
or... make the distinction between ice-cream
& gelato...
& curry... i want to make a bucket load
of "that"... enough to make joking remarks about
an invading envy equivalent to match up to
the Ottoman Janissaries...

i don't like being sold the sole impetus
that blatantly numbs me...
a walking abortion: i am...
             find me in my most reclusive spot...
when the  birds... triple the night...
merge with it... allow the: bystanders!
postcard enthusiasts! tourists! begone!
with Essex: alone!
i don't care much fo the western aspect
of England... POMPOUS SODS
THE WHOLE LOT OF THEM!

anything associated with Bristol
i wouldn't feed to pigs...
sure... they might be the most pristine sort
of people:
they're still a people i wouldn't
share food with... sorry... what?!
you might care that i might care?!
how... custard-esque...
how... bewildering...
i... exist?!
                    *******...
really?! does one digest that fat of fact
with a: hmmm...

         SUDDENLY?!
"diatribe of waking shadows"?

forget it...
the postponed death of Johnny Cash
matched up to the "un-expected"
relief of... false claimants oeuvre!
Elvis... ought to have died...
he died... the end!
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
What I Want

I want to be
a breath eternized,
a harmonious duel
of notes colliding;
a deep hum like rain pounding on your roof.
I want to be
your familial need,
your strong cavalier,
and yet impuissant without caring.
I want to be
the sound of your seascape and
the harrowing experience
that brings your feet slapping again on my floor;
the sublimation that makes
me your chéri once again.
I want to be your car whizzing
through the slush on my road,
and your air as you breathe in slumber.
I want to be your remembrance.
But this? This is just doggerel my love,
empty tapping on a darkened window.


The Dance…

The sound of harmonizing guitars fills my dreams,
a sound to eternize in my memory.
Their duel of fancy is poetry sounded
in the chalet of pressing bodies.
Feet slap the floor to the sound,
in the familial dance of human experience.
The murmer of voices are impuissant when faced
with the strength of those strumming guitars.
Cars whizzing through the slush
announce the departure of
those with faces trapped in a cavalier facade.
For the rest,
the music sublimates the reason of the mind,
driving out thought like the sound of breathing in the night.
The doggerel of the world is left at the door
and the snuffy exterior of life is quickly forgotten.
Only the music remains,
its meaning an elusive longing,
and the desire to dance until the sun
drives out the shadows.
Using random words and sounds, 2 poems were born.  Quirky, but I like them.
4:55 am, snoring boyfriend is downstairs
SOUND asleep
I lie awake and seek to reach the deep
Well of sound and music, a poetic
Kingdom, I made my queendom
With. Never tried emjambments but well,
They seem to fit, they bring to thoughts freedom.

SOUNDS like my well-being
To write poetry is living
The instants to the fullest
Even on a cellphone my rhymes do not rest

I may SOUND poised and in control
But at first my poems were about pain and all
The things that poetry sublimates with her crown
I owe much of my style to what Ginsberg wrote down

My American poetic self is a committed eye with an everlasting passionate SOUND.
Oblatum - Magnus Volumine

John is defined in the Gospel of him as the disciple whom Jesus loved (cf. Jn 13:23). Thanks to the special signs of predilection that Jesus showed him at very significant moments in his life, John was closely linked to the History of Salvation. The first sign that showed him the great affection of Jesus was that he was called to be his disciple along with Andrew, Peter's brother, through John the Baptist who baptized in the Jordan River and of whom they were already disciples.. In fact, as Jesus passed by, the Baptist introduced him to him as "the Lamb of God" and they immediately followed him. John was so impressed by his personal encounter with Jesus that he never forgot that it was around four in the afternoon that Jesus invited them to follow him (cf. Jn 1:35-41). The second sign of predilection was having been a direct witness of some events in the life of Jesus, which he later reworked in the fourth gospel, in a theological way very different from the synoptic gospels (cf. Jn 21:24). And the third moment in which Jesus himself made him feel his friendship and his very particular brotherhood was when Jesus, about to give up his spirit (cf. Jn 19:30), wanted to associate it in a privileged way with the mystery of the Incarnation, expressly confiding it to his mother: "here is your son"; and expressly instructing his mother: "here is your mother." (cf. Jn 19:26-27).

The sources from which the data on John's life as an apostle, as an evangelist and as "adopted son" of Mary have been extracted do not always coincide. Some sources are more convergent and others are more dubious or apocryphal. From the gospels we know that together with his brother James - who will also be an apostle - the two were fishermen originally from Galilee, from an area of Lake Tiberias, and that together they were nicknamed "the sons of thunder" (cf. Mark 3:17). ). His father was Zebedee and his mother Salome. We find John in the narrow circle of the apostles who accompanied Jesus when he performed some of the most important "signs" (cf. Jn 2:11) of his progressive revelation as a type of Messiah very different from the one that the people of Israel was expected (Lk 9, 54-55). In fact, when Jesus resurrected Jairus' daughter (cf. Lk 8:51), when he was transfigured on Mount Tabor (cf. Lk 9:28), and during the agony in Gethsemane (cf. Mk 14:33), Jesus tried to make them understand that they had to transform their mentality linked to hope into a violent Messiah, similar to Elijah because, on the other hand, he was the beloved Son of the Father (cf. Lk 9:35), he was the Messiah come from the heaven to communicate divine life in abundance (cf. Jn 10:10), and that he was also going to suffer rejection and injustice from the religious leaders of his people (cf. Mt 16:21). In the Gospel of John, Jesus appears as the Teacher who also tries, in vain, to make the Jews understand the paradoxical logic of the Kingdom of God (cf. Jn 8, 13-59). His disciples, on his behalf, are invited to be born again (cf. Jn 3:1-21) to worship the Father in Spirit and Truth (cf. Jn 4:23-24); Jesus prays for them so that they remain united by divine Love (cf. Jn 17:21) and that they are fed by the Bread of Life (cf. Jn 6:35).

During the Last Supper, John had leaned on Jesus' chest and asked him: Lord, who is the one who is going to betray you? (cf. Jn 21:20). John was the only one of the apostles who accompanied Jesus to the foot of the Cross with Mary (cf. Jn 19, 26-27). John was the first to believe the announcement of the resurrection of Jesus made by Mary Magdalene (cf. Mt 28, 8): he ran quickly to the empty tomb and let Peter enter first to respect his precedence (cf. Jn 20, 1-8). Tradition adds that some years later he moved with Mary to Ephesus, from where he evangelized Asia Minor. It also appears that he suffered persecution from Domitian and that he was banished to the island of Patmos. Finally, thanks to the advent of Nerva as emperor, he (96-98) returned to Ephesus to finish his days there as an ultracentenarian, around the year 104.

The Gospel attributed to John was named after Origen. It has also been called the "Spiritual Gospel" or "Gospel of the Logos." His style and literary genre are full of "signs", symbols and figures that should not be interpreted literally. In the prologue of his gospel, John uses refined theological language to show how at the beginning of the New creation, in the New beginning the divine "Logos" already pre-existed; logos meaning the eternal creative Word of the Father, which was later translated into Latin as "Verbum". In the prologue of the fourth gospel Jesus is presented as the "Divine Word", the "Light of life" and "the pre-existing Wisdom of God" (cf. Jn 1:1-18). This gospel invites us to accept, through a faith full of amazement and gratitude, the surprising revelation that the Word of God, which no one had seen, became flesh and has made his home among his people. (cf. Jn 1:14). For this reason, the word "believe" is repeated almost 100 times, because God wants all men to be saved (cf. 1Tim 2:4) and to have abundant life through faith in Jesus Christ, God made flesh (cf. Jn 11, 25).

The Gospel of John also presents us in two very emblematic episodes the identity of Mary and the special relationship of John as her "adopted son" to her: at the wedding at Cana and at Calvary. In the narration of the sign of the water transformed into the new Wine during the wedding at Cana, Mary is shown to us as the powerful intercessor who anticipates the hour of Jesus' revelation to his People (cf. Jn 2:1- 12). On Calvary, at the moment of the glorification of Christ, Mary is presented as the Woman who is transformed into the New Eve or Mother of the disciples of her Son (cf. Jn 19:25-27). If we consider the close filial relationship between John and Mary, it is not difficult to imagine that the revelation of the figure of the Messiah in the Gospel of John has also been nourished by the direct testimony of Mary, since she, better than anyone else, in her last years of loneliness, he collected in his heart and in his memories the "signs", the "signs" and the words of life of Jesus. It is therefore conceivable that the unique experiences that she preserved in her memory, she later shared with the disciples of Jesus, and in particular with John. Therefore, it can be considered that Mary herself also progressively welcomed and interpreted in faith the revelation that the Son of her womb was at the same time the eternal Son of the Father, (cf. Jn 10:30), the only Bread. of life (cf. Jn 6:34), the Light of the world (cf. Jn 8:12), the Door (cf. Jn 10:7), the Good Shepherd (cf. Jn 10:11), the Resurrection and life (cf. Jn 11:24), the true Vine (cf. Jn 15:1) and the Way, the Truth and the Life (cf. Jn 14:6).

The three "letters" are attributed to the tradition of the disciples of John, which also have the flavor of brief homilies. The Apocalypse is a canonical book, recognized as inspired, that was born in the environments of the churches of the Johannine tradition that suffered the attacks of Gnostic doctrines. This, which is the last book of the Bible, uses a literary genre similar to that of some prophetic books of the Old Testament, such as the book of Daniel (cf. Dan 7), Ezekiel or Zechariah. The word apocalypse is the transcription of a Greek term that means revelation and not destruction, as is sometimes thought. John addresses seven letters to the seven churches (cf. Rev 1-3) to transmit to us, through very fascinating characters and symbols, a very concrete message of hope in which the slain Lamb (cf. Rev 5:12), i.e., Christ the Savior will triumph over all persecutions and oppositions of the forces of evil to the Kingdom of God and will make all things new. This will happen when God will establish his Kingdom of justice, love and peace at the end of time. In this book it is shown, with numerous and suggestive symbols, such as the seven seals (cf. Rev 6-8, 1), the seven trumpets (cf. Rev 8, 6-11, 19), the seven angels with the seven bowls (cf. Rev 15, 5-16, 21), the tiring path and the struggle that believers of all times have to face so that one day the building of the New Jerusalem will be carried out (cf. Rev 21-22), today we would say the Civilization of Love, brotherhood and care for life, when Jesus, the Alpha and Omega (cf. Rev 22:13), returns at the end of time. In this sense, the Apocalypse is also a prophetic book that interprets God's action in history, ensuring that the faithful and truthful Witness (cf. Rev 3:14) will return soon (cf. Rev 22:20) and will definitively conquer. to evil, pain, and death (cf. Rev 22:1-5).


Dedicavit

This manuscript is dedicated to Sauter Bernardino Edmundo Carreño Troncoso “ Primum Coniugem Alexandri Magnis ” of the first of the Gamelion of Dionysius of Leneo, to his Adelphos of Etrestles of Kalavrita, to Alexander III of Macedonia, known as Alexander the Great (July 21, 356 BC - June 10 or 11, 323 BC), Leonidas of Epirus, Lysimachus of Acarnania, Aristotle, Bucephalus, of the sixth of Hecatombeon, the month in which the Macedonians called him with the paelative Loios, the same day as the temple of Diana in Ephesus was burned; As Hegesias of Magnesia makes occasion for a presumption, Cassander, Ptolemy, and Hephaestion would become his lifelong companions and generals in his army. Callisthenes, another friend, was Aristotle's nephew. Dedicated to the dignity of Raeder of Kalymnos; son of Etrestles of Kalavrita, especially to Saint John the Apostle, distinguished relatives of the Transverse Valleys of Horcodndising and Sudpichi. Finally to my parents Luccaca and Bernardolipo Monarchs of Horcondising. And all the characters who will live eternally in this colossal Magnus Volumine. “Gratias Ago Tibi Propter Heroismum Tuum Vernarth, Et Doce Nos Viam Messiae” Thank you for your heroism Vernarth, and teaching us the way of the Messiah!

“I must tell you of my great admiration for my steed Alikantus, with which I will come to visit you soon, also to Kanti who have been a great precursor to take you to Athens, Thessaly, Delphi and Lefkandi. You can see that Bucephalus has joined our fight; where the “Sons of Iaveh, have eyes like a flame of fire or Aish, and feet like to go burnishing the chaff of bronze towards Patmos”, which will instigate you for the contrition of Thyatira, under the trick of my Rabbi Saint John the Apostle”


Thyatira

City rebuilt at the beginning of the 3rd century BC. E.C. by Seleucus Nicátor, one of Alexander the Great's generals. It was located about 60 km from the Aegean coast, on the banks of a tributary of the Gediz (ancient Hermos River), in the western Asia Minor. The Christian congregation of Thyatira received a message written by the apostle John as revealed to them by the Lord Jesus Christ. (Revelation 1:11) “which said: I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last. Write in a book what you see, and send it to the seven churches that are in Asia: to Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea.

In this regard, the Lord declared in a reproving tone: “You tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess, and she teaches and leads my slaves astray to commit fornication and eat things sacrificed to idols.” This “woman” was probably named Jezebel because of her wicked behavior similar to that of Ahab's wife and her stubborn refusal to repent. However, it appears that only a minority of the members of the Thyatira congregation approved of this Jezebel influence, as the message continues to address “the rest of you who are in Thyatira, to all who do not have this teaching, to the very same ones who did not come to know the 'deep things of Satan'." (Revelation 2:18-29).

“ Children of Iaveh, you have “Eyes like a flame of fire or Aish, and feet like burnishing the chaff of bronze” toward Patmos that has freed me from your Xorki, how to say and what not to say to you; that my voice has stammered, making me feel that once I flee, I must adhere to the Eternal fire of the Mayim, children of Iaveh, the Mayim of Hydor and saint of water, the Windmill and its sad Myloi, fall on my face ”


Magnus Volumine I    


The Vernarth's intensification of this prosopography as Prosopography Magistri Militum Strategos Typology; he has used the raffle of a History it was not known but it is Vernarth now introduces in Historiography as an auxiliary. The methodological fragment could be torn apart from its screens of a mind enslaved to having to worship a cycle that condemns it to surrender to its loved ones leaving it at the same time to be sectored from a condemnation, to prostrate itself to an Eternal Life its images nor Masterful Words that would have to distinguish the parasciences from subdividing their corporality into thousands of Othónes or Screens, in order to be able to sustain themselves from others that do not compose the knowledge of what is not History; but rather that what happens typical of prosopography allows to obtain visibility regarding the different sectors of society, and the possibilities of their members to access positions of a present that never leaves the power of the Space of a Strategoi, as Time-Space at levels of superior Intelligence subject to mandates of divine Power that oscillates in a mental power of the Militum that coexists with the Community of the Strategos, creating the entire Quantum Band of the antiquity as an omnipresent being par excellence. When its ****** envelope is reflected in its Purgation, it will trigger a presence that governs itself and leads in the trend of a "Duoverse that will only be built in its Unique unity"... given the trend of all crowds that bustle beyond the mass of their Villas or Cities that they inhabit, creating sensations and an unreal genetic world even that amalgamates a large number of generations that only increases its demography based on the autarkic mandate of a history that goes back for not knowing what to imagine of the past and of a future without present that is sustained in a Spiritual Intelligence.

The sociological mutations will be circular, and the retrograde since the collective of images will exceed everything that is sustained on a material floor and therefore it denies that what develops in an empty heart will be a specialized material of a periodicity, that does not spare New Universes that a pillar or support be added that tends to calligraphy better where imagery could prevail all the limits of common language. The grammar of ancient Greece will defend periods that are neither static nor finite, leaving free space for words that are engulfed by vast seas of stagnant bibliographical records never known never written nor destined for a secular record. The Submythology Potential is provided by the entire Belt that surrounds from South America to the Mediterranean as an infinite cord of Eternity to re-hold itself in a matriarchy in the societies of the past to recognize, that femininity is the real genesis of research from where a frequent human origin proceeds, so this it is the transcended in the Universality that transcends in the investigation of the sphere of Unknown History; pretending its ligament of prosopography, and the vivifying instance of Submythology as a unifying entity to summarize the condition of Strategos/Magister Militum we have taken into consideration the situation of our utter information in this existing prosopography works. Parapsychology is subject to a dimension closely linked to non-reflection to even the Primordial Quantum to governs, and governs everything just as this Magnus Volumeni I tries to express the independence of all literary expression if it is about Vernarth, rather it is a documentary space.

Afterward six years of knowing and introducing myself to the area of   Technology, and the Science in the Tourism industry, I made my presentation at Macromedia University, Berlin-Germany. Through this university management I had the option of presenting my concept and avant-garde projects, which condescended me to get to know the E-Tourism Perspectives area of the University of Svizzera Italian-Ticino. This allowed me to meet and join an independent study challenge with the slogan of deriving a full range of analysis, and dedicated study Heritage Sites of UNESCO. All thanks to the agreement that consecrated me at the Pantheon-Sorbonne Université, specifically Maria Gravari-Barbas, Directore de la Chaire UNESCO, Culture, Tourisme / Lorenzo Cantoni, professor at USI Universitá della Svizzera Italiana.

The university has had here in South America, in Chile an intrepid collaborator who has tried to interpret the postulates of the Sciences of Humanity exposing the nature of preserving, and keep investigating everything in the lost history of Europe, which has great significance for Culture that has branched out through the Tourism Technology, and its Digital transformation for this purpose of understanding public life in dissimilar fields that are still hidden in intangible archives, which deduce important material of study in areas of Science, Philosophy, History, Politics, Geography, Jurisprudence that would add to the world of the conservation of the ancestral peoples with all its courageous identity of the Prosopography, and the archaeological demography.

The United Nations Educational, Scientific & Cultural Organization, known for short, as UNESCO is a specialized agency of the United Nations. It was founded on November 16, 1945 with the aim of contributing to peace and security in the world through education, science, culture and communications. The constitution signed that day entered into force on November 4, 1946 ratified by twenty countries. In 1958 its main headquarters were inaugurated, in the VII district of Paris. Its general director is Audrey Azoulay the specialization and search for Culture, Education and Science is a way of contributing to humanity, peacefully granting security through the entire International community for this reason we believe that this work fulfills that prerogative narrowing organically, as been always it is here with the multidimensional epic narrative that is broken down with the prose, and parapsychology other than is a field closely linked to the intrinsic link of all the treasure that has been transmitted for thousands of years, leaving before our expectation what its ruins and works have wanted to demonstrate with their laudable dedication foundations, and expansion of multiple Sites in their musings that have traveled the history of diction of the science of culture, information, communication to create knowledge that this still remains with our reality of society that has the pattern of explosive generation of the current one. One of Vernarth's is the most important premises to create the roots of systematic knowledge, that is to say to provide platforms for their family trees, prosopography and the art of writing Submythological Prose whose the objective tends to occupy the expanded universal literature that has advanced for thousands of years on the other hand, Submythology is free of format cancels many aspects of the temporary format, and creates a relationship link between the academic and the secular attracting infinities of Cultures, historical landmarks, hybridity of languages, and above all merging and re-transforming existences of the post-Classical period; where the source and personal question does not daunt the distances of the inheritable that distanced us by geological-Historical periods, rather it makes the viability of an unexplored field up to now as Vernarth is the granting a hierarchical international value that will retransmit knowledge and skills.

In this way, agglutinating ourselves in those interstices that are not visible, qualifyable or quantifiable, only have to materialize when patrimonial beings are chosen by others who are already hereditary of an industrious will it occupies the supports of a platform of earthly inheritance, and later disseminate it throughout different sectors of the field of knowledge and the research, connoting that there are many variables that could help us interpret the foundations of the UNESCO heritage, today are far removed from communities that want to invest time in inquiring more deeply about them. For this reason, Central and Eastern Europe is at the forefront of generating multi-channels that can ensure the treatment of technological routes or flourishing that want to be found again, such as the Qhapac Ñan, or perhaps the Jacobean Route, perhaps the Route from Patmos to Judah pointing to Vernarth by demonstrating that hindsight could be perfective when visualizing facts that were not witnessed or written as they should be, VG the return to Galilee of Saint John the Apostle in the Hegira to Judah, relegated to Greece by Emperor Domitian. The amendment of such a well-deserved return confirms the wait for an immortal being in the Eclectic Portal for three months, who will mean the ordinary that rises up from the phenomenal investing in roles that many times, as indicated by the dogma of the baptistery indicating that we can be saints and apostles to preserve the patrimonies to educate and retransmit values to follow.

Vernarth Trilogy II at its end, is reiterated in deliberating that this work never ends because each chapter of Paraps, inaugurates a new infinite regressive dimension as it is in the case of Poielipsis; as it is a liquefaction of the parameter of Poiere, and the inverted Apocalypse to make changes after personalities that manage to impact the successive episodes of alteration of Life periods, as in this case Vernarth when he was legitimized to assist Gaugamela by the god Spílaiaus to make the support to Alexander the Great not only for winning the battles but for saving and winning the souls of the fallen Hoplites, generating in them an idyllic prose that promotes and sublimates the possession of the principles of an Apocalypse, that suggests protecting those who should believe without pain of what will await them later for an indefinite death. The Souls of Trouvere will stand out with the bulwark of enthronement of the state of energy that would mobilize Charles the Great by taking him to the platform of conquest of Europe crowned as emperor by Pope Leo III taking the lessons strongly rooted, and letters that would subscribe the cheers where nothing dies in the center of its own fear, because that is where the edge of a sword loses its value that it cannot use the other as an arbitrary neologism of only reigning without the sacrifice that every regime bets on, including the crown when Charlemagne assumed his great legacy at twenty years after expiring later at seventy-two. This is where fears die, not being able to hope or convalesce in concepts of Energeia that vitally moved from the similar aspect to Alexander the Great in the same even numeral but thirty-two, and letters that would be signed by cheers where nothing dies in the center of its own fear because that is where the edge of a sword loses its value that it cannot use the other as an arbitrary neologism of only reigning without the sacrifice that every regime bets on, even the crown when Charlemagne assumed his great legacy at twenty after later expiring at seventy-two.

In another topic, Vernarth after witnessing Stratonice's intermission decides to run at her bare feet for those who banish with their needs on the parental scale of their range, succeeded by Energeia's need for the impudent sense of being enraptured in possibilities, here insulting also the principle of quantum science with the spin of subatomic particles, alembicated in the timeless particles that could leave out of the nucleus the proportion of rotation of time that could be found, and rooting of memories in rectilinear lines of the imperturbable Hellenic mental axis. One could also amend here all the licentious action of Seleucus by Stratonice when she splits the gross threshold of her son Antiochus, and Antigonus I Monophthalmos referring to the father Stratonice of Macedonia for never marrying her to Seleucus. All this generates the Epistle addressed to Vernarth to solve the strident and impalpable of the warlike Diadocos that greatly affected the female descendants, confining them to their domestic avatars in disloyal empires, where these vilifications devastate the imperial partiality through the centuries of an oppressive strength, and disagreement in their moral wrongs. From this quality the coordinate of the Souls of Trouvere that remains in the present, always allying themselves in saviors of oppressed and abandoned peoples who strive in the neologism of the Epsilon or Vernarth's fifth dimension, and not restrict themselves as Aristotle affirms, investigating the entity towards a mono-meaning in this causal of such an alpha that says the paradoxical demonstrating diversity of optics. Prior to this diatribe, Vernarth decides his naturalness that he decides to promote the Souls that are part of both topics to alleviate the potentialities of the acts that are apprehended in the light of genius that coexists with both. What he judged us in the unfolding of his entity and will deliver it by divine intelligence so as not to reduce the free power of the Epsilon that was extracted in the welcoming the presence of Stratonice on the (substitute scale of Vernarth's relativistic emotions). There are few seconds that can be extended more from a selective argument of tendencies in ex-sheets that could be attributed to dimensions of the period of Trouvere's souls, lacking stillness in simulated biological environments.

The dynamics of this Poielípsis is to adorn the Voielípsis as an analogous addition of quantum causality and timeless Christianity, since it supports a conjugate mix deified by Saint Thomas Aquinas heading towards the mainstay in the mega absorption of Christian Aristotelian ideals. The souls will be residents of the indeterminate spiritual mechanics to put effects of the incredulous versatility on themselves, in sub-aquatic depths that coexist with the geological structure of the cavern of Saint John Apostle more than sub-earthly concomitance under the same axial of geological sustaining coordinate. Namely; they will live together while the temple is established except three hundred, and eight meters from its antipode in the underwater base of Prophytis Ilías.

The upholstery of the Pithya Herophile attacks the subtending of the flying buttress that was supported by the cavities of the volcanic rocks of Patmos, indicating its agreement with the Souls due to the disoriented cognitive dissonance that was generating paradigms, which tracked the stones that formulated Aquarian sounds in their dominant tonality due to the minuscule machine of light, more distant in the incommensurability that evaded its eclipsed in the resplendent major note that became monarchical due to the hypotenuse of the rectangle in three subdominant angles. This means that the Sybille was in the high point of observing her premonitions towards the creation that was born from another end to end in the recycling of creation in the dim light of clarity of the destinations that were going to present themselves as a song of remembrance of the Poielipsis, venturing the new restart or attempt of the Delphic oracular. The songs remain in the spell, and in the banal desires that would harm a mortal that will expand to the hypotenuse or line of the sentence that marked a step impelling in the misgivings and forgiveness of the banner of risk. Santiago of Compostela was going to Stratonice with his inclinations, like a geometric racconto subduing the fears that slip through the veil of the dogma of the arch where no philosophy can look higher if it is not allowed, typical of vegetating or freeing oneself from what revives in fears that do not shed light on eternal life, perhaps of a the Matematikoi himself who doubts an Ad finitas basis, and who finds out without the limits leading Pythagoras to the ground handcuffed from Crotona, always ignorant of the linguistic power that urges to rewind the spheres that still weave crossed angles placing themselves in trial, and error when considering a non-renewable past the soul of the Poielípsis adopted a Pythagorean conception in the halters of livid legions of Orpheus, as if it were his consecrated to the hypogeum where the level was to stir the embankment that will merge with Zefian's Arrows.

A diminutive atonal music possible existed in the molecules, and in trigonometric periods in which the measures were united in time as a stationary whole vivifying a great variety of fractional numbers as souls of the same numeral that finally appear to be Pythagorean digits. Vernarth's military of Phalanxes in this epic made the crucial oblique moment to break Dario's troops like a dozen Elegy that was going to re-flower what he knew of his already sub-treated destinations, other than will only be souls tired of keeping themselves alive in their morbidity, and the dissociated causal of immortality that will distance itself from the prohibited abstinences in libertarian exercises of any counting that ponders on the coming etymology of the Vita Pythagorae on the couch of joy, and serving his doctrine that saves himself that will save us in the Messiah for those who in their souls do not have the sacrifice of a lamb that feeds, nor a base that goes ahead in the centuries grazing what no one was capable of. In the second triad of Apollo the oracle of Apollo with the Souls that reveal Charles the Great to be his favorite for the protectorate of Compostela, and his spiritual regency the invitation to Charlemagne breaks out from Aachen after 33 consecutive years in the sword dispute stating that the Saxons never complied with the treaties and signed surrenders. Charlemagne put himself at the head of his army on several occasions to fight with his sword against the Saxon danger, also entrusting the troops to the counts when other matters required his presence in the second concave wasteland, and the straight ascending of the Trouvere Souls crowning Charlemagne emperor of Rome and Francos chosen by Leo III, predicted by the Apostle Santiago in defensive pontifical struggles, and defenders of Christianity. In this paradigm there is a deceased seep through of an elusive world that was joining from here in the vein of Poielípsis for the sake of some eras that came from the mutes, and anonymity that augured to link them to know within their endless intrinsically organic movement, also as a diligent active cosmos of the discovery of the Jacobean route longing to be a better region than the Dodecanese merged by the twelve apostles, and now the brother of the son of Zebedee; Santiago, brother of Saint John the Apostle, ennobled in the 778 AD tying it to Hispania. In ****** and constant fighting, Charlemagne besieged the Saxons, he entered Hispania crossing the Pyrenees as an anticipation of the aforementioned the Jacobean Route, everything worsened in this way witnessing the subjugated places in the jurisdictions of the Trouvers who were Pythagoric elite of soldiers who they had be bilocated in this Christian Era, preceded by this perfidious Basque in the woods subsisting separated right here from the progenitors of the Trouvers, who claimed to be the strongest to pursue them to Pamplona with Charlemagne. Everyone was escaping from Islam, and not a few Christians resented this affront in the dynamics that will reveal the Songs of the French Deed.

This previous paragraph exhibits the eloquence of how the interlining that Vernarth had to create a Brotherhood Code called "Raedus Codex" for the high nomination polished in the Infant Raeder as a twitch of the sacrifice of his young soul, who fought battles in pursuit of defenses pure and free with the freshly grown grass of the spring of the world in Genesis. The Souls in Trilogy III will be the compendium of the Codices that will enter the Wind Tunnel what will be governed by the warm Meltemi wind, and swirled by the winds of Eolonymy, ascending all those who should be admitted and not purging those in between who they enjoyed a pre-Christian heritage citing Pythagorean antiquity behind those who must have dressed it up as a Codex Calixtinus. From this arrangement Charlemagne will drive souls with antiphons, the Apostle Santiago will come lacerated to meet his brother Saint John the Apostle, his barge will be abandoned in the Strait of Gibraltar and then arrive at Santiago of Compostela from here he will make tributes of name to ascend to Patmos. Just as the end of Vernarth's Trilogy II is faithfully transcribed, also Stratonice, the Hexagonal Primogeniture, Alexander the Great, King David Elias, Malachi, Isaiah and all the acquirer flashed in Raeder and his Pelican Petrobus, as self-sustaining defenders of the Infantile Fantasies that they continued in this complex work after a finding that fed them up in Vernarth as well as everything related to their release and investiture to say that all roads lead to Patmos, as Locus Sanctus of all the shepherds who heal their sheep that do not belong to others that are populated with white souls, for the good of other shells 308 meters below the Prophytis Ilias with the consent of Stratonice who would be arriving in Macedonia where the pass of the centuries they would tell them about the Jacobean Route instructed in confrontations, and concordances with the airons of the Trouvere protected by a rectangle of three Pythagorean subdominant angles in dissipated darkness of the golden astrological ambiguity of Theoskepasti of the meridian of the Kimolos. He will go away saying explicitly that the darkness became visible mists where there was nothing to hide from Psathi Roadstead in Kimolos, until reaching the Agia or the Chapel of Theoskepasti that would become visible for the phenomenon of Faith, alluding to a portentous desire that everything was tied to the same sense of compression of which the image or sound of the creation at times to became invisible but precisely understandable, as it was when imagining palpable the reality of what allows the human eye to feel for an instant that everything is real imperceptible, more present of all what can be detected by superior senses more than humans, giving way next to the Raedus Codex more present of all what can be detected by superior senses more than humans.

From Ios or Nios, bordering on Psathi, the Trilogy is unleashed when the association of all the spaced Cyclades of Vernarth will come to every equinox to shine the careful nap of the villagers of the Cyclades, close to the torpor of Thira. It will raise each Hoplite that from the point of Nios drags them with its abandoned body that could never receive the roads that led to Chora in infinitesimal distances and in white spots of all the Cycladic ghosts, who try to exalt themselves and assimilate to the villagers of Psathi.

According to Plutarch, the name Ios or Nios is believed to derive from the ancient Greek word for the violets "Ία" (Ia) because they were commonly found on the island, and is the most accepted etymology. It is also postulated that the name is derived from the Phoenician word iion, which means, "pile of stones". It was called "Φοινίκη" (Phiniki) named after the Phoenicians in the 3rd century when the island joined the League of Islanders it was probably temporarily called Arsinoe after the wife of Ptolemy II. Today the inhabitants of the Cycladic Islands call Nio Island a name derived from the Byzantine era. The name Little Malta, found in traveler's texts during Ottoman rule, is related to the permanent presence of pirates on the island of Latin-script languages.
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I remember,
once upon a Frankenstein,
how divine the memory
that sublimates the truth.

Monsters hide and bide their time,
electrically
comes Frankenstein.

Misunderstood, but
he looks good in
nuts and bolts,
ten million volts?

I'd be looking that way too
if only Frankenstein could tell
me what to do.

In the mean and I mean
mean,
I dream of
Monsters,
they dream
of me.
clxrion Jul 2018
sonatas soulful, soothing, softly somnolent:
i kneel in surrender to their swells —
slipping under the spray, slow submerge of sound

soaking my eardrums
sealing sight
the sea’s silence deceives, concealing

songs so solemn, solace’s sorcery suddenly suspends:
sorrowful solipsism sublimates —
i seek stupors soporific as soliloquys
A veces, amor, a veces
I want to tell you all about
Asphyxiating in the ambrosia of *******
Indulging my kapritsos of thanatos
Following you to your crusades, caballero
I ******* to the mendacious marvels
my mind concocts to make mundanity
a bit more palatable.
I imagine that I consume your carne,
cariño, cannibal that I am
Quiero que te sientas como yo
Quiero que te mueras como yo
I commence with your carotid
I take swigs of your blood like bignay wine
Till satiation spells sweet slumber
Till I **** the sublimates of such fictions
Morning come I’ll bite into my bread
And wonder if I could toast it to be
as warm as your inaccessible flesh
I do not think I’ve sinned in such desires
To the padre I’ll have nothing to confess
This pandesal is a muscle of my messiah
I mutter amen and no longer protest.

— The End —