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n)Ethno-spirit and Biodiversity (Diogiversity)

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

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

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

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

o)Reflection space length (π)

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

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

p) One-Dimensional Beams II

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

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

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

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

q)Amphibology Cosmogonic, Sub-Mythological root

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

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

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

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

r) Hyperdisis

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

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

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

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

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

The luminance can be defined from the radiometric magnitude and the radiance without more than weighting each wavelength by the sensitivity curve of the eye. Thus, if LV is the luminance, Lλ represents the spectral radiance and V (λ) symbolizes the sensitivity curve of the Vernath's eye of the Betelgeuse area below, dumping plasma and bruises on the galaxies and the Orion Eyes.

s) Zigzag Universe

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

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

t) Vernarth Omega (Ω) - Preface

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The supra intelligence has to become in them and those, the pre-existing point of duality, to reunify them in Patmos, as the only spirited meaning, and biomass evolving on the super-dimensioned materiality, in a greater radius where it will have to be delivered to whoever speaks with words. of living energy, and not complex towards all processes of emancipatory concord of personal authorship, on levels of relative lust in the absolution of medium integrity, and towards an elemental unitary totality of animal instinct guarded by the instinct of Being, that from its similar awakened rebirth of the sleeping mass matter, and in the animal purifying multiplicity. The man stands in his memorandum bend, like a haughty memorial, evolving in the cosmic expiration of the molecular transverse, admitting us in its vestige of complex extinction, but not in human slip, nor in acid and self-instituting scenery, on the real creation of its DNA, which reverts from the formality of helical reiterative rings, by heights of whoever oscillates in their coupled pairings, and their silent probable associations, in the nature of real origin and their structural perfection. The acceptability scenarios derive from the feasible concretion, and the approval of their tendencies and mobilizations of the structure of life, and codes greater than those that limit them to reside, to more than one body, residing from an incorporeal body, capable of its quantitative life and the extension of existence, super existing in the heights of the helical rings, which may vary more than they are, and which could be, without being seen under a scientific gaze. "Becoming a mechanics of maturation and prayer, which the energy from the material world to the spiritual, as a moving particle of inert matter in parasitized free radicals, which are re-energized by the mystery of the helical trans-threshold of the Aramaic mystery of the Olives Bern. "Vernarth disintegrates in omeganymy in laxity towards Aurion, descending pro-tenebrosity towards the profanity of Patmos, engulfed by Love in a dark summer, brushing the silos of DNA in the will of the automated world"
DUOVERSE
Valsa George Sep 2016
Celestial wayfarers of the night
Dancing damsels with the light
Fading phantoms at Phoebes’ sight
I thought I shall post a minusclue of a poem for a change !
Hiraeth Sep 2014
Prologue

Flashes of a luminous glow
Swims like a Borealis across the sky.
The cold compelling breeze
Soothes my clammy skin.
A  quiet rumbling,
Like the growl of angry hell hounds,
Anticipates the coming


Storm

The sky unleashes electric snakes
As the wind rips through houses and trees.
Sweeping rain impinges upon the earth,
Scrubbing the night clean
To claps of deafening thunder.
I stand, insignificant as a leaf,
And watch in awe


Of Divinity*

Even as temple bells are chiming,
God has long left the altar to take a breath;
And in the wake of this night's monster
All is silent and dead.

It is strange
How such destruction calms my soul
And makes a hard atheist like me,

Hope.
Jo Jun 2014
I am one of three –
Shadow, skin, and light.
A triplet split from the same egg and *****.
**
Make it 3 and you’ll have me
Explicit.
It’s so ****,
Being cleaved into thirds.  
A ******* with myself –

The shadow is morose.
A needy, demanding *****
Begging to be cut up.
I want to,
So I can see the blood wring around my –
Her
Wrists like shackles pinning her
To my bed.
I know it’ll shut her up
But I can’t bring myself to do it.
I’m not that *****.  

The skin is boring.
A virginal flower
Dreaming of understanding.  
She’s too wholesome,
Always waiting for the right
Version of herself to come along.
Saving myself –
Herself
For the right time.
My tastes aren’t quite so
Vanilla.

The light is adventurous.
A psychotic, brilliant ****
******* herself into the ground.
Necrophilia just got a whole lot hotter,
Bodies piling up thanks to her STDs –
Stupid, thoughtless decisions.
Protection?  Ha!
That’s for normal people.
There’s no need for me –
Her
To slow down;
We like it fast.

The skin doesn’t participate.
The *****, virtuous ******
Fidgets as the others 69 –
A disgusting yin yang
Of low and high.
The shadow drinking downers
Until she can’t remember
All the bruises covering her heart,
Too distracted by the bile
Smeared across her lips.  
The light popping enough uppers
To strip herself of her
Consciousness,
Naked and raw
She often wakes bitter
Of her restored senses.  

This ******* takes place
In a womb,
An amniotic ocean
Swaying toward the shores
Of existence.
Two will drown –
Vanishing triplet syndrome.
Only one may be pulled from
Mental waters and placed on the sands of reality.

The labor takes 33 hours -
Finally I emerge.  
Who survived?
There is no way to tell.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
the greater technique in writing poetry,
is not really associated with the
scholastic, well at least not with poets-in-residence
at university institution, esp. with the current
curb on free experience of expression
having to walk a ballerina sort of walk on
tip toe, even though a ballerina walk on
hard surfaces is an elephants stomp (swan lake?
the drumming of the ballerinas deafens the
music, what a crude sadistic art-form),
and should ballerinas practice the art-form on
cushions they couldn't do their tip-toe...
a ballerina sort of walk to not cause usurping
apathy by the bullish heart is a paradox...
because hard topics with a ballerina tread will
still become a piano hitting the ground...
and soft topics with a ballerina tread will
only become the agonising loss of firm footing,
and a torture of the trivial having to be danced
upon with such seriousness as the samba would
otherwise allow... the tip-toe having not firm
rooting... if that makes a sensual impression on you,
so be it, it's hardly senseless to write such words,
since you see the symbolic encoding with you words,
so unless these arrangements don't make you blind,
i'm assuming you will not allow anti-geometrics of
certain painters... and instead you're embracing
satisfaction with squares and triangles...
a rigid narrative of pre-planning an expedition to
Antarctica asking for the right provisions of fur,
tents and water and food... it's not up to me to play with
these words for interpretation, i've made the interpretation
a freedom only you can behold, i can't always be found
willing to interpret the arrangement for you,
i'm not into thought ******* and shackling,
and if you're into that... then you're just plain ******* lazy;
i mean, if i was a poet-in-residence at a university
and told to mind recognisable poetic technique
in the range of onomatopoeia and metaphor
and not accept a higher technique, the digression
via the kaleidoscope, the many diversion,
changed subject matters... i'd bore myself to death...
of course there's the rambling technique of
a poetic narrative, a sudden caffeine injection of
the elevated moment, but that technique calls for
a single subject matter - i'm talking explosions...
a return to ballerinas, if poets mind hard subjects,
heavy subjects, and they want to treat on them
gracefully like ballerinas in agony
they will have to embrace the fact that such
"grace" is actually an elephants stomp...
it's no good asking ballerinas to practice their
art by dancing on cushions... the two graces -
one of dance and the other of grace will never allow
you to walk around on tip-tope...
oh come on, interpret it with images of some sort
of comparison, like a ballerina on a tightrope...
i'm not going to be spoon-feeding you
anywhere from the page.

spring clean, the boiler-man came for an annual
check-up, i was working and kept my room
a bit un-kept...
cleaned the windows, hoovered the floor,
steamed it, cleaned the bookshelves from dust,
it smelt like a mint-conditioning comic after,
changed the bedsheets,
took all the empty cups from the shelves,
spotless clean...
but i'm telling you, if i get to see 2015's
best film *inside out
by pixar i'd give you
a clear analysis on the specific points,
at the moment i have this **** of thinking
about how the optics of man
only start engaging in memory after 4 years
upon birth...
spending nine months in the waters of the womb
(imagine coal miners trapped in
perpetual coal-mine for nine months,
they'd re-enter the light of day like moles,
having to wear sunglasses for the same number
of months before the eyes adjusted) -
it's no wonder that the parts of the body
passing fluids (well, **** in the form of
diarrhoea is pigeon ****) are weak...
why the ***** i'm saying...
why the mushy pulp of the apple purée
because the oesophagus is weak too and needs
to develop like bones, become hardened,
indeed these soft tissues need to become firm
paralleled with bones, baby bones are undeveloped
in terms of how we can't walk at the beginning
but crawl... forget the drawings of darwinism
of shortened historical explanation...
our's isn't with tail and hunched spine...
we're crawling...
but the pixar film inside out i will write a detailed
analysis when i see it again...
at first i can only relate one fascination...
the way we only become to actually consciously
see aged ~4... prior to that we have no
optical impression of the world with memory...
memory and seeing only enjoin
aged ~4... prior to that all the senses are based
in the unconscious, once the senses emerge from
the unconscious, actual faculties develop,
sight develops with memory...
i could say that speech develops with sounds...
but ba ba goo goo ma ma da da is actual
gibberish to consider since we become so eloquent
after, aided by the fact that we capture sounds
with phonetic optics of letters...
i'll stick my ground,
the first symbiosis is that of sight and memory,
which also becomes a symbiosis of
sight and memorising-imagination, or memory-in-itself...
and the clash of these two symbioses
creates a paradox of what actually happened
and what happened upon re-imagining...
like i said, i could expand on the theories within
inside out, with my re-evaluation as alt. outside in,
and i can say about a 1000 child psychologists could
be spawned from this single film...
but you never know, i might even theorise further
tonight once i drink enough and get a toilet break;
and bear in mind i'm about to cross the threshold
of being awake for 24 hours, after i miscalculated
my doctor's appointment for an amitriptyline (25mg)
prescription; the depth of the film is immense,
but i think it's harsh for so many psychological
undertones to be shown t children,
i think that it's a film for adults, even though
it's rated U... and indeed, more like a U-turn in
terms of thinking about life than suitable for
the under-aged
,
at first you get the early stages of child development,
by the end of the film of hopefully seeing adolescent
development, but that's cut short when
puberty obstructs sensitive sensible matters that
lead into sadomasochism in certain cases,
and in others into ****** carelessness as documented
by grooming examples in societies, like the ones
in england... or two girls today in mini-skirts with
the still cold spring nights, one ******* crouched
in an alley, the other trying to ease her on
while i walk past to finish it quickly...
i could, really could bombast you with my little
theory tool-kit... when joy becomes jealous of
sadness and wants to rob sadness of a prime memory...
the simple cutting of the umbilical chord of
being born in one place, but moving to another...
the sheer thoughtless release of tears in a classroom...
then the imaginary friend encounter...
never take short-cuts with that third cat,
third elephant, third dolphin character leading
you into the world of imagination,
the imaginary friend is actually a placebo figure in
this realm, he can't have imagined it all,
we couldn't have been the first prize pundit in it all...
he's the thief of ownership...
and then dragged into the cyst pit of those
characters real in life, celebrating your third birthday,
still blind to the world... the rainbows of life
and the darkness of the foetal mine...
the clown who's less horror but more a 5 year
student of acting reduced to cheap party tricks...
distorted not in life, but in your dreams,
as proof that you really didn't see the world
so early... you couldn't have, because if you had,
the dream world would not distort so profoundly...
and upon re-entry into the foetal position of sleep
your first 3 years are reflected in sleep...
such that when joy and sadness walked into
the realm of the imagination i thought they'd wake
the girl up by going to the cinema to watch a horror movie
like the one joy tried to block when the family
first moved to san francisco...
oh indeed the over-layering of the five crude expressions
of thought, memory and imagination...
i wonder why these chose those five...
and there was no hope among them - and hope's
triplet shapes of hope itself, love, and fear...
and when suddenly the imaginary friend dragged
the poor girl into the abyss of forgettable memories,
it dawned on me how the girl sat there holding
memories she wished to remember, a motherly
narcissism as to say: my own child...
but it felt so strange to imagine this child
holding onto memories like that, when in reality
without the five crude impressions of feelings
she would be unable to do so... this melancholic
reflection of joy suddenly dawned upon her
that the real sadness was the it too was sadness,
for if natural selection exists... so too much
cognitive selection, however dear some things are
to us... some of us have to remember
being able to give surgery, learn to drive buses,
teach mathematics... to be truly enjoined with humanity,
and not simple childish solipsists;
even as such... write poetry and weep.
Johnny Overseas Nov 2013
I've noticed that my mustache grows in thicker on one side,
made to wonder if this blunder's due to my brother, how he died,
Never will my reddened beard grow in and lay with grace
because my brothers lifeless body layed a pressure on my face
Most men primp and think of happiness in mirrors and in breath
However, whenever I clean my face I'm forced to think of death,
(with the face of a brother I've never met)
So I celebrate life and do my best to think it limitless
Go out and do, create for you, make proud the worlds dead triplets

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

I've noticed that my beard grows thicker in just this tiny spot,
'Cause the way they lay, I cannot help but think a rather morbid thought,
The way you are is picked afar from waned or waxed moon,
but what happens there when you're prepared a rather taxed womb?
The newest of 8 darkened waters with no help to navigate,
You'll admit having dead brothers makes it harder to relate.
But they never were alive so I can't say I have regrets,
I must make with my life, for all the worlds dead triplets

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

My mother calls me her surprise and I think "jeezez kryst."
In honesty I'm accident, but the way you said it's nice.
I feel and see it differently inside my orange head,
But, that's just the way **** happens when you're born beside the dead.
You see, I was touched by death before I even knew of life,
I cuddled it and swam beside it up until the knife.
So death, with mercy, stays away and out of sight it gets,
for it knows I held it close, I live, a ghost, of my dead triplet.

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

But it can't last forever,
I've already lived too long,
So immortal I'm on paper
and in the wind in song.

I said it cannot last forever,
I should already be dead,
The world it has a shortage
of another orange head

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
My dead triplet.

So with all of that in mind, defined,
my chances should be none,
I never should have had a first,
so I make all my seconds battles won.

I am the living ghost of my brother Joseph,
and all the worlds dead triplets.
It is very hard to hit the save poem button....... there's that sinking feeling in my gut....... is this too personal? You tell me.

This may be the most important poem I've ever written. I didn't even know I felt half of this stuff until they were all in a notebook together.

See the thing is, if you're bearing multiple children and one of them is miscarried, the chances that the rest of the babies surviving is, well, not favorable.

And I didn't even show up on any ultrasounds.

Gives me a new outlook and even though it's a morbid poem, it makes me feel more gifted than anything else in the world. Makes me wanna hug my twin because I cannot hold my triplet. We don't even get along.

RIP Joseph.
Sleepy Sigh Apr 2012
Oh, my darling, you are a mountain towering
Over my dim valleys hemmed with rivers.
The grand presence of your beauty overpowering,
Oh, my darling, you are a mountain towering
Over my valleys richly flowering,
And the sunbeams from your shoulders give me shivers.
Oh, my darling, you are a mountain towering
Over my dim valleys hemmed with rivers.

Oh, my dear, what winds might blast me
If not for your outstretched arms?
In this role that nature cast me,
Oh, my dear, what winds might blast me!
Mourning rivers would outlast me
With no haven for my fragile charms.
Oh, my dear, what winds might blast me,
If not for your outstretched arms.

Oh, my love, perhaps now you can see
Why I look up as though you are a peak
So unreachable and distant from tiny me,
Oh, my love, perhaps now you can see
(Though I think you still may not agree)
Without you bracing me, I am so weak.
Oh, my love, perhaps now you can see
Why I look up as though you are a peak.
Valsa George Feb 2018
A ***** in eternal quest after love
Halting in and moving out from shrine to shrine
Until he merges with Love beyond all shades and sheen
Valsa George Feb 2018
Lone waters suddenly fructified with darting fishes
Dark night sky made aflame with an array of twinkling stars
A barren heart fuelled with the elixir of love
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2014
Cat buries her ****  .  .  .
Dog digs up the carcass bone,
  .  .  .  Crow steals it away.
Splitting the framework of conceptualized demise, demanding council with the potential for immortality found in the roots of a proud, longstanding family tree.

Withdrawals worked out to pay off a longstanding debt with a beat down mentality housed and rehearsed for the sake of a sour state of mind, preserving faltering sainthood.

Ink stains used to stretch the page thin, scraping off fragments of the tatters of a foreign form of progress, denounced with age, but brought back around for a short bout of overtime.
Adam Burke Jul 2014
My hands are numb to all they touch
But I feel their inner workings better than ever.
I notice the strain while I'm writing,
The cramp when I'm wanking,
And the lack of a third line in my triplet.
Their blood runs cool like ethanol.
My eyes sting but they had the whole day,
Let my lungs have their moment.
Smoke soothes only second to air
But my carnal desires placed it higher in demand.

Warn all your kids
And take coughing fits.
The danger is real
That's just how I feel.
"ACQUAINT"
Met, but noticed not...

Gazed, yet unseen, unsure, blank...

True love has this charm.

"FIREWORKS"
Our darkness alight...

Under our skins, twisting seas...

Love is our new moon.

"INTO DEATH"
Voyages close-knit...

Knitted into the beyond...

Knit before we knew.
I really got into writing "Haiku Triplet" poems last year.

I'd decide on a topic, give each poem a title of its own, yet the overarching title would be the true purpose, what unifies them, a sort of story.

I don't know if anyone else has done that, but it felt really fun and original for me.

There's another one that I posted here, if you search through my poems, it's called "Turmoil..." and it is by far my favorite of my triplets.
SEARCHING...
there on horizon,
sight unseen, treasure untold,
I seek its wonder.

WELCOMED...
craved in the seizing,
sating thirst in this, my soul,
I sing mortal glee.

ABANDONED...
come has fallen hour,
soul aches from broken dream's shards.
hope? never again.
With the Haiku Triplets (or Quartets) I write,
I try to tell a story with each part having,
the potential to stand on its own.

They can be separated, yet still whole.

Enjoy!

DEW
"EXILE"
Somehow, they're all gone...
Darkness shrouds hope like hunger...
Hunger for revenge.

"SEARCHING"
My eyes seek the truth...
In all the dust, I found lies...
In thirst, I found death.

"FOREVER FORLORN"
Boat by water's edge...
Floating upon forgotten...
Void is our water.
I love my triplets :)
Paul Hardwick Sep 2015
O no not again
feel the Rock'n'Roll
come up from my knees
exploding within my head
here we go again
expressing harder times
in my head
has to come rushing out
beating in my brains within my mind
like a truck
Comes right out
like a phycodellick gargle
spilling out on the page.

:-)'

P@ul.
Head Bang Skull Candy series 4   P@ul.
smallhands Nov 2014
I don't know what joy is and I don't think I ever did
I starved for the inches
And my lengths and widths became careless

-c.j.
Julia Oct 2018
forever is a long time












to wait
for someone
and he waited








for me
for 9 years
until
9 tears
spilled
  d
      o
  w
      n
   his face
   a trace
   of              
         d       n       e
   a                           s
s                                 s

o       l       t       f
n       i       h      r
         n      a      o
t        e      t       m
h       s              
e               r       h
                 a       i
                 n       s


E      E
Y      S
    t
    o
    h
     i
     s
t          s
   o   e

nobody knows
how far this goes
how      o                     n
        o        o           o         g
     l                   o                  she strolls
without (whoa)s

each pebble places puzzles
pedaling peddlers play in puddles

triplet
        o
      twin
        e            tu
   ­     r              mb
        s            le

rumble mumble bumble
                        


                       GO AWAY
                             stay okay

my tires are all tiring
my spark plug is misfiring
my wires need rewiring
my modem is requiring
the answers i’m inquiring
why are we all conspiring
an interweb inspiring
an instant gram empire ring













my Angel waits on HI
                                   BI
If I replaced all the time I spent on social media with hello poetry engagement, I would probably be a lot happier.
Brycical Mar 2012
When the wood touches
my lips
my whole body trembles--
           triplet trebles drip quickly
out....


In my head,
I sound nothing
like the spheres surrounding
        the guitar's melancholy,
        mellow below comes above
and I WAIL.....
          sailing these sounds
swaddling the drumbox beat
to  a crescendo
      exercising all the ills
I've swilled and spilled--
           FILLING
the house
              FILLING my self....
radiating away all thoughts
of doubt.
a reminder of the Bird 'Tranes
a reminder of the names
I used to sing......


Silence
seems like such a foreign concept again.
st64 Jul 2013
in purple haze of reverie, the gentle visitor came
beckoning kindly…come, come to
our V I R I D I A N world* . . .


1.
On our cerulean sphere
You need have no query, nor fear
We open our non-gravity planet to guests
Even unlikely earthlings who pass the simplest flaxen-test.

2.
Much less needed, we bedaub
Our flavescent lava-vision, going beyond the orb
Mild kaleidoscopic fandango-swirls is our mossy cyan-matter
Triplet-hue colours felt only by the revered and well-known mad Hatter.

3.
To let you in on the cosmic-latte ripple
Our flowers range from acid-green to African purple
Blast-off bronze flora dance-blaze in  burnt sienna fields
Alabama crimson rocks and aureolin skies over anti-flash white seas.

4.
We confabul8 with deer, breezes, plumes
Such creatures roam free, for we do not consume
As slumber befalls us not, you wonder how we spend time
Frolic in universal peace; to welcome home stars as our rhyme.




you are so welcomed, celestial guest
Vortexiamus awaits
only
you




S T, 28 july 2013
A rare rhymed piece (with one deliber8 break :)
So much (time) lost … so much can be gained … in silent seeking.


Sub-entry: THE SEEKER – The Who

Writer: P. Townshend

I've looked under chairs
I've looked under tables
I've tried to find the key
To fifty million fables

They call me 'The Seeker'
I've been searching low and high
I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die

I asked Bobby Dylan
I asked The Beatles
I asked Timothy Leary
But he couldn't help me either

They call me 'The Seeker'
I've been searching low and high
I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die

People tend to hate me
'Cause I never smile
As I ransack their homes
They wanna shake my hand

Focusing on nowhere
Investigating miles
I'm a seeker
I'm a really desperate man

I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die

I learned how to raise my voice in anger
Yeah, but look at my face, ain't this a smile?
I'm happy when life's good and when it's bad I cry
I've got values, but I don't know how or why

I'm looking for me
You're looking for you
We're looking in at each other
And we don't know what to do

They call me 'The Seeker'
I've been searching low and high
I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die

I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die
I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XrO4_nyamZs
Decrypted Version:


We both knew what we did to each other was out of revenge

You're in the next city over, and she is here, making me feel again

Staying up in an Adderall talking fervor, and the passionate love we made the second night

and there was Mike, singer of that band named after the local graveyard, passing out expensive beers

I never want to call you, oh center of my universe

But every day, before you left for school, I would, ridden with guilt

I never wanted to leave my room again. Alone I stayed in fear.

-

Every time you left for vacation, I felt like I would *****

A paradise on the beach along the Carolina shore

You said you wanted to be single and free

Your March birthday rolled around, I was gone, and you were just alone

You left the girl I love at that beach with the charming fellas

You brought back something far worse, and numb

-

You've found a new love, and I've seen how he tries to out do what I did

The words and promises of us that you drew all over your walls now painted over

Now that you and your family have left that place

Megan wrote on your ceiling the night we all stayed together. It made you laugh

I'm in your backyard, wishing I could look back and in.

-

The new love in your life has become a perfect copy of me. You sculpted him that way

You know longer feel weak when an insult comes rushing to you

I really did make you tough and numb

Because no one could say anything more vile than I did

-

I guess this really is the end for us

We'll never see that spark we had reunite

I can't replace you, I don't want to replace you

-

Were the three years we spent together a waste?

I'm descending into another deep hole

-

I'll never come out again.




Original Version (Which is still available on my page):


An eye for an eye was the reason we acted

You’re so far away and I can’t stop the fireworks

Talking the night away, the exhausted second meeting

A sip of ale from the singer in the graveyard

I never wanted to call to the Sun

But every morning I would cave in

I buried myself in an empty room

-

The trips were acidic to my tongue

Beaches filled with trinkets and sands

“Fish swim, forever free” you tell yourself

Now, Pisces, who is the one swimming?

Buried in the sands is what I remember

The other half is lost

-

Am I the one to defeat now?

The words that stained the walls are now sparkling white

Abandoned

“Now close you eyes and sleep” she wrote

I’m somewhere between the ponds and the highway

-        

The mimics and shadows match suit and play their roles

The words do no sting or stick

Tough as leather, from the arrows

That flowed from me like a river

-

This product is finished

Ignition improbable, idiot.

No courage and hardly a motive

-

Triplet years

Falling backwards

-

My head is buried
In this decryption of one of my older poems, I reveal what I was trying to hide from myself and avoid actually saying. This is one of those poems where you may think one is better than the other, but in reality, they're both just a painful reminder for me, something you may or may not have realized when the poem was first posted in its original context. I've posted both versions here for the sake of some comparison in case you haven't read the original or are just too lazy to find it on my page. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did rewriting it.

Thank you for your constant support and kind words.
-Ty
“WOUND”

Tool roughly sows force…

Searing flesh calls out like babe…

Like babe, flesh is nursed.

“HEALING”

Time gently sews wound…

Body, like God over germs…

Fools they are, or were.

“SCAR”

Fate has sealed breach…

Man reaps good of ill matters…

Proof of battle fades.
A post from my blog, and my favorite haiku story of the bunch.
It's interesting how using the fewest words paints a "clearer" picture.
Yet, one must know that the picture is not so much "clearer" as is it "being imagined" whereas, a description with more information is "directing you."

It's an interesting experiment of the mind and an important lesson in writing, one that Ernest Hemingway would be proud of: communicating with as little information as possible is powerful.

However, it takes vision. A deep understanding of writing and a deep understanding of people.
If you've been writing and living for long enough, you'll understand that knowing people and knowing writing are inseparable facts of life.

Happy New Year! :)
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Sumer is icumen in
anonymous Middle English poem, circa 1260 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Summer is a-comin’!
Sing loud, cuckoo!
The seed grows,
The meadow blows,
The woods spring up anew.
Sing, cuckoo!

The ewe bleats for her lamb;
The cows contentedly moo;
The bullock roots,
The billy-goat poots ...
Sing merrily, cuckoo!

Cuckoo, cuckoo,
You sing so well, cuckoo!
Never stop, until you're through!

Sing now cuckoo! Sing, cuckoo!
Sing, cuckoo! Sing now cuckoo!

***

Keywords/Tags: Middle English, medieval, reading, rota, round, partsong, summer, cuckoo, sing, cuckold, seed, meadow, woods, ewe, lamb, cows, bullock, goat, billy-goat, poot, ****, pass gas, never stop

These notes were taken from the poem's Wikipedia page ...

"Sumer Is Icumen In" (also called the Summer Canon and the Cuckoo Song) is a medieval English round or rota of the mid-13th century. The title translates approximately to "Summer Has Come In" or "Summer Has Arrived". The song is composed in the Wessex dialect of Middle English. Although the composer's identity is unknown today, it may have been W. de Wycombe. The manuscript in which it is preserved was copied between 1261 and 1264. This rota is the oldest known musical composition featuring six-part polyphony. It is sometimes called the Reading Rota because the earliest known copy of the composition, a manuscript written in mensural notation, was found at Reading Abbey; it was probably not drafted there, however (Millett 2004). The British Library now retains this manuscript (Millett 2003a). A rota is a type of round, which in turn is a kind of partsong. To perform the round, one singer begins the song, and a second starts singing the beginning again just as the first got to the point marked with the red cross in the first figure below. The length between the start and the cross corresponds to the modern notion of a bar, and the main verse comprises six phrases spread over twelve such bars. In addition, there are two lines marked "Pes", two bars each, that are meant to be sung together repeatedly underneath the main verse. These instructions are included (in Latin) in the manuscript itself:

"Hanc rota cantare possum quatuor socii. A paucio/ribus autem quam a tribus uel saltem duobus non debet/ dici preter eos qui dicunt pedem. Canitur autem sic. Tacen/tibus ceteris unus inchoat *** hiis qui tenent pedem. Et *** uenerit/ ad primam notam post crucem, inchoat alius, et sic de ceteris./ Singuli de uero repausent ad pausacionis scriptas et/non alibi, spacio unius longe note."

(Four companions can sing this round. But it should not be sung by fewer than three, or at the very least, two in addition to those who sing the pes. This is how it is sung. While all the others are silent, one person begins at the same time as those who sing the ground. And when he comes to the first note after the cross [which marks the end of the first two bars], another singer is to begin, and thus for the others. Each shall observe the written rests for the space of one long note [triplet], but not elsewhere.)

The lyric may have been composed by W. de Wycombe, also identified as W de Wyc, Willelmus de Winchecumbe, Willelmo de Winchecumbe or William of Winchcomb. He appears to have been a secular scribe and precentor employed for about four years at the priory of Leominster in Herefordshire during the 1270s. He is also thought to have been a sub-deacon of the cathedral priory as listed in the Worcester Annals or possibly a monk at St Andrew's in Worcester. But it is not know if he composed the song, or merely preserved it by copying it.
Steven Hutchison Apr 2013
frozen in time he was quite the spectacle
thick rimmed frames traced rigid lines
projected from kaleidoscope eyes
sharp with the corners of unknown dimensions
caught hot handed
both in expectation and reminisce
so awkwardly present

most nights
he spins fairytales
double-dipping moons in molten watches
skewered with his arms
      these wooden poles
stirring the coals buried in ashes
he steps lightly.stomps
dances with the rings of saturn
then rolls like thunder
chasing Zeus's sore words
zig-zagging down to earth
ooohhhh…..
he may not melt hearts with that shoodoop
  that bebop
but they break for his habit of
making promises

he who holds time in the cave below his tongue
which now juts left off the reef of his lip
slip into
trip - - - skip
fall.into.this.
go mad for the pitch of his sweat
glaring at the spotlight
Dalí
painting worlds in the moments
between your ears and soul
he is god to their populations
and their hymns excite
rhythms ignite
visions of hard candy
tumbling your teeth smooth as river stones

he does not belong in a gallery
no high tipping wine sipping city slicker big wig
should ever feel comfortable in his blast radius
he makes bombs from tribal instruments
wigwam concoctions
set to test resting souls for pulses
paradiddle defibrillator
triplet stent for arteries
he is tall
and now thin
pressed against the wall as if under interrogation

splitting breath from its carbon
asphyxiated by the frame
he spells his words with motion
I find him
mute
Ben May 2012
music through my veins
polyrhythmic synapses
firing in 3/2 timing
stuttering triplet rolls
around my thoughts
octave to octave change
quicknowdoubletime
overdrive of emotion
s l o w s  t o  h a l f  t i m e
q  u  a  r  t  e  r   t  i  m  e
e   i   g   h   t   h    t   i   m   e
stop these shaking hands
this staccato heart
a note from the end
a measure too soon
a crescendo to nothing

discordant - anti-climatic.

was the song to my life ever on beat?
ClawedBeauty101 Sep 2017
A young prince was born, in a liter of many puppies
He was a triplet of two sisters, but he was a different out of all the babies

The omega was his place, no one ever expected any bravery to be gained
He was afraid even of the smallest frailest creature. Fear was around his neck like a chain

One of his closest triplet, Princess had gone away, for she was a warrior now, strong and proud
While her brother remained on the sidelines, behind the  cheering crowds

The one that never left his side was the second sister, who was an Angel of Fire
A Fighter of beauty and demand. She was the alpha, and she flaunted her desires.

Terrified he was towards the world that seems gigantic and impossible to understand.
His Angel sister was his guardian, she helped him to conquer the land

His hunger grew wild, his  desires flew fast.
He became the strongest one, the bravest pup of the pack

His soul was loyal to his family around him,
He always gave kisses, his love was never trimmed

Until one day, He went out for the first time alone,
He saw the gate opened that led to an empty road!

His burst of joy took over as his father barked in fear and warning
He stopped and turned around, but suddenly, he felt his paws shaking.

His ******* marble eyes looked up, there was no mercy as the car crashed against his skull
His uncle, mother, sister, and father rushed to him, watching his dying body fall

His tail wagged in discomfort as he gave a final kiss
Knowing that his time has finally ended, everyone around him was his bliss.

His whimpering cries slowly came to an end
This was the end of a Prince. The Prince, my old loyal friend.
Prince was a dog I used to train and take care of, he was the least expected to run out into the street. Now my old buddy is gone. R.I.P Buddy.
Steve Page Feb 2019
'Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.'

Though one runner may stumble,
two can steady themselves.
A team of three athletes is not easily overtaken.

Though a single note may fade,
two can harmonise in concert.
A song of three chords is not quickly forgotten.

Though a regent may lose his way,
two can guide one another.
A caravan of three kings is not easily distracted.

Though a child may feel alone,
two will laugh with mischief.
A gang of three children is not quickly bored.

Though one musketeer may fall,
two can stand together.
A band of three inseparables is not easily defeated.

Though one disciple may tire,
two can support one another.
A prayer triplet is not quickly discouraged.
Ecclesiastes 4 - worth a read.  It's about collaboration and team work.
In the light of your immaculate form I make the following declaration:
I will be your jealous cellist- 
(I.)
And I will play you like a stringed instrument - then
When you make delighted whisperings
And finesse the fine music of the feminine, magnificent 
Your heathen distemper
Distributed, 
woman-like, goddess-like
Classic cello-shape 
Draped in lilting silk
Then
I will fiddle and pluck
Cast broad swathes near and about your single tingling place 
Your attuned instrument 
And it's spruce wooded
frontispiece.
(II.)
You faux arabesque 
(for faux is our shared domain)-
Your hands moving gracefully - you pause - 
Feigning flight 
Feigning fancy
Considering
My rising fire 
Weighty desire
Shadows mingle with glimpses of
My thickness and length-
Veined skin and steel, 
White - waiting, wanting -
And there's an answer. 
(III.)
You are girl - such a girl 
I am boy, only boy 
My persistent mans eye view 
Part pleased with the flashes of you - 
Now in new 
Near **** rhythm 
This gilded exuberance, 
Radiant
Hypnotic
Sets sparks flying 
Tickling toward sky and stars
I would have you 
My dexterous digits upon your supple, warm-
Fragrant fresh flesh fret board 
I would squeeze you where
Your mystery resides and
Elsewhere besides.
(IV.)
Roughly - at first - needy
Determined -
I would play upon
Your duet of juice creators
Invoke the 
Holiness of your 
Secret sacred spaces
Doublet, Triplet, Quintet 
Play on! play on! 
I would have you 
With my plugging piece 
There! There!
Your open legs 
Secretly seeking my carnival of thrusting 
Inside your warm girls pearl
Antidote for collective loneliness. 
(V. )
I would hold you, your sides - 
Firm in my greed
Our lustful minuet in 3/4 time
Play on, play on - I 
Kiss your neck, 
nibble your *******
It's you, it's you
You arch yourself toward me
Warmly
Affectionate, 
We hold hands, fingers between, 
And dance. 
(VI.)
This some time Summertime
Bright flame 
We reach - how we reach- 
Our mouths, our tongues - 
The very words we speak- yearning for - 
longing for -
Connection
Each to the other, and 
Our connection to God 
"Rightful sin - 
Come to us again
And again - and again 
Satisfy our minds!"
An eye for an eye was the reason we acted

You’re so far away and I can’t stop the fireworks

Talking the night away, the exhausted second meeting

A sip of ale from the singer in the graveyard

I never wanted to call to the Sun

But every morning I would cave in

I buried myself in an empty room

-

The trips were acidic to my tongue

Beaches filled with trinkets and sands

“Fish swim, forever free” you tell yourself

Now, Pisces, who is the one swimming?

Buried in the sands is what I remember

The other half is lost

-

Am I the one to defeat now?

The words that stained the walls are now sparkling white

Abandoned

“Now close you eyes and sleep” she wrote

I’m somewhere between the ponds and the highway

-        

The mimics and shadows match suit and play their roles

The words do no sting or stick

Tough as leather, from the arrows

That flowed from me like a river

-

This product is finished

Ignition improbable, idiot.

No courage and hardly a motive

-

Triplet years

Falling backwards

-

My head is buried
Bobbie McCord Jan 2014
You turned my life upside-down when you came around
A triplet, who would have thought?!
Ive always loved you, though I may never have shown it.
I've always been the older sister that secretly watched over you.
now all I'm left with are pieces of who we used to be
a ghost of the sister I used to love  
What happened to us?
We used to sing together while I was in the shower, your iPod blaring
And sleep on each others shoulders on the long carrides
We'd stay out late at night with friends and stick our feet in the air
Swimming in the ocean at the beach I'd come up from behind and splash you
I used to pick up on the same line as you just to mess with you and your boyfriend
And miss you when you went away, like you took a slice of my heart with you.
When guys would hit on us, we'd sit back and laugh.
Do you remember the night you, me, and Billy stayed up and we said out first cuss words, barely 5th grade, and we giggled all night?
The promises we'd always be there, through thick and thin?
The calm of our house was shattered this summer
When we realized it was time to grow up.
You roughened my edges with your sharp tongue,
slicing through our bond we worked 16 years to hold together
Cut, and mended, cut and mended
All that remains are shreds and furious remarks,
and a house shared with a girl I can't say I even know anymore.
You roughened my edges, my own sister
Darkened my heart, and closed my compassion
We both have our own problems, does it mean we stop caring?
All our lives we've been compared, it's been a game,
Some kind of competition to gain attention and show off superior wits
Now when it matters the most, I've lost you
I'm running this race of Life alone.
All I really want is for us to get back to how we used to be.
I want to make you laugh, not frown and complain
I want to see happiness cover your face like it did just months ago
But... I'm afraid it's too late.
You've roughened my edges beyond repair
Ryan Bowdish Mar 2011
Your nose scrunches up in normal conversation. It makes you look a little bit like a piglet.
Trust me, that may sound like a backhanded compliment, but it's adorable.

When you yawn, you sound like you want to cry.
Nothing freer than you transposing your tears for the sake of singing sad songs,
To Children you've never met, as if you've never slept.
We're both a little too sure about what we eat, and
The times you sit on your hands are the days when your guts moan...

[Others would call these imperfections, but the little things are always the best parts...
Birds flapping their wings (hollow arm-bones)
Tree-roots burrow and anchor (lungs)
Grass pets your eyes]

Always busy, the words form on the tip of our toes, everything I say
Is written with our silhouettes.
Outlines pigment the natural world...
Like a horror-show,
Hallways stretch for hours
(I can not currently see out this window).

Your open sockets spill waterfalls of true understanding from a crimson sunset of genius scars,
Like open wounds of the best silence, only the sound of teeth clashing
Between stretching lips
You hook your palms into my cheeks, bones creak
Gazes reflecting thoughts, unity in unmerited shame,
Our legs conversing softly, hair intertwined (snakes on our necks), and all night...
I keep playing a triplet between your ribs
A simple arpeggio archway under moans from dead skin in light,
I hold you by the red skin, carve you, for just one moment
Until we're living art. Skin static, roots spreading wings.

No expiration date for us, just a point when our bodies no longer parallel
But after that, we speak in clouds
We paint murals for each other in abandoned city parking lots
Or empty train halls.
The moon is our vanishing point,
All eyes on craters.

My language is something undiscovered to me,
I don't know if I want to let all these words go.
You mean Reincarnation to me,
Some jaw of life, some whale's mouth.
I am snow.

Everything loses focus but the stars...

Like teenagers.
Oh darling I am free
Oh darling I am Croix Rey
Finally I am out of hospital
Despite my brothers still
Being there
Oh darling mighty me
I get to be with my mummy and daddy
Waiting to hopefully see
My new brothers slowly following me
Oh darling the only healthy one
I remember my garbage bag pants
Oh darling I am having fun
Finally home with my parents
Oh darling Out of hospital
Oh darling let me pray
For ezrah and daxon to come out soon
Oh darling let them out
Oh darling oh darling
Pray for my brothers to be free
Oh darling I am glad I am out
Hopefully darling my brothers
Follow soon
Orange Zest Oct 2011
***
im tired of faking
i wanna get up in the morning
and feel honestly alone

not like this
not looking without seeing
not hearing without knowing

this poem *****
its two in the morning
and i'm tired

what the hell is a triplet
these lines without meaning
so vague
fibvnkl; i dont even know
All we are,
delightfully lost.
Is that all it is?
Heading feet-first into sunsets.
Whirlwinds.
We crash, grab,
forget to blink,
rely on breath alone.
Here words tumble in a torrent,
recycle in your mouth
and back out again.
Clichés cannot die.
On a loop,
a worn-down yo-yo.
I roll them out for you
on a goldenrod carpet,
you skip across them
as though they are red-hot coals.

What set you off
like a sparkler in the night?
The sea brings us love,
vice versa.
Waves like mounds of sugar
embrace your torso
in a way I can only dream of.
Camera exhausted
under the weight of today,
puddles of polaroids,
enough to smother the floor.
I smell snapdragons,
candy fizzing
on both of our tongues.
Soaked.

Fade to black.
Your language
is blossom
slinking into my ears.
Wet sand
slips in a mustard waterfall
through our fingers
and I trip over my T’s and P’s.
I’ll keep your smile
locked in my pocket
for black-cloud days.

A triplet of cartwheels,
sticky palms
and panting as if
you’ve run a marathon.
Give it a go…
I try and collapse,
a soppy sprawled mess
gawping at the sky,
before blue eyes
smash into mine
and I fall again.
Dripping.

In-between seconds.
Flaccid strands of hair,
frizzled spaghetti
clings to your neck.
The blonde grenade
I keep writing,
cannot control
but adore to see explode,
catch the thirteen
or more little fragments
of you,
keep them ‘til next time.

When you leave
I can follow your footprints,
mementos back home,
tread where you stood
and exuded light.
We sit cross-legged,
water dribbling over our toes.
I memorise your heartbeat,
you plonk your head
on my shoulder.
Minutes wash away.
Stop the clock.
Written: September 2014.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time over the course of four days, part of my dream couple beach/sea series. Out of all the poems I have written, this is the one I am most proud of, although it is similar to other poems in the same series. It is very easy for me to visualise the beach, the couple and the sand etc. A few pictures and a video online inspired the piece. There may be very slight edits in the near future. Feedback greatly appreciated and always welcome.
jeffrey conyers Feb 2011
Hey you, you look like me.
Can it really, really be?
A reflection of my pretty self.

Hey You!
You act like me.
I don't know if that's a very good thing.

But then again it just might be.
Because least I'm worry free.

If, I was a triplet that would make it three.
If, I was a twin that would make it two.
But since I'm only looking in the mirror.
It's just me.

Hey You!
You looking fine.
But I shouldn't brag that wouldn't be kind.

Sometimes, I wish I had another like myself.
I be pulling schemes on everyone else.

And now, here I am.
Talking to myself

And, I the only one in need, of help.

Hey You!
What can I do?
Beside admit I love all me.
Even if another never understands me.

When in this mirror I only see a man.
Who walks proudly with his head held high?

I guess I'm just one wonderful guy
Rights belongs to Jeffrey Conyers

— The End —