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Ian Stern Apr 2013
Grab a turkey leg
Stuff it in my face
Poultry understands
What grown men wanna taste

Tender juicy meat
Vigorous roast beef
Stab that violent ham
We are gonna feast

Suprise
Its still alive
Writhe
I don't mind

****** red and raw
Mash it with your jaw
Our rabid spastic feast
What hungry beasts we are

There's meat stuck in my throat
But I'm too tough to choke
It's echoing the bleat
Of that tasty little goat
Deana Luna Jul 2015
you held me like catastrophe. afraid to let your arms fall away from my chest.
i held you like i knew what i was doing.

i will sing you the saddest song you’ve ever heard and you can smile softly through tears, reveling in your love for a sad girl.
i am a tragedy. a melodrama.
but we are acoustic devendra banhart songs at dusk. the sweet orange wind softly brushing against your windows//against our cheeks.

borrowed lipstick kisses flower at the roots of your legs. i bloom between the spaces of your sighs and whisper to each curve of your mouth.
i can write a love letter to each breath you take.

i know you want me vigorous. i know you love me insatiable. and i want you like i know what i’m doing. i want you like i’m much older and wiser. i want you like i’m not a quick kid.

your drinks are always too bitter. you say you fell in love with me for my smoke and flowers.
neth jones Apr 2019
run revel, run **** and run riot
after the work week
thirsty work
hashed together venges
and business pleasures exceed
to mature into vigorous crime

with the rights
this fit night have given
the office population clamber up their fears
and violently
cram their senses

fist feast your mouther
raw-torn with surplus
a Wendigo playground
go beast upon this crown
this fawn
this chalking morgue

                          - a bellyful
A Babal Tolls verse ?  Formaldyhyde Jar Baby
Robert C Howard Aug 2017
Let jubilant bells ring out
     proclaiming the joy of the season.
Banish all darkness with bold Christmas lights
     that brighten the sky on a cold winter night.
Rejoice in the bells of the season!

With joy-filled hearts we zip up our coats
     to savor the crisp morning air.
We take to our sleds for a vigorous ride
     then draw snow angels in the meadow.

Our town is decked out its holiday best
     where strangers and friends pass our way.
We stroll down the streets ‘til the stars appear
     to dance in the jewel case sky.

The bold steeple bells peal so clear and loud.
     Bright Christmas lights are gleaming.
Our kinfolk have gathered from far and near
     To share in a holiday feast
and after the meal we all gather by the fire
     To celebrate the blessings of family.

With grateful hearts raise our songs
    and ring our bells this joyous day.
Rejoice, give thanks. Give thanks, rejoice!

Let jubilant bells ring out
     proclaiming the joy of the season.
Banish all darkness with bold Christmas lights
     that brighten the sky on a cold winter night.
Rejoice in the bells of the season!

*© 2017 by Robert Charles Howard
This is the text for the third movement of a cantata entitled Winter in the Rockies.
Along the gallant road rides a superfluous vibe,
Secreting utter destruction as it strides through massive vines.
It clasps its form against the almighty wind,
With every curve, it steeps into a lifelike kin.
  
When midnight turns, it taunts with vigorous fear.
Growing its momentum as it creeps near and near.
Suddenly, faint noises reeled in and appeared! Creak…Creak…Creak….
The wind slams into the mahogany door without any presence becoming clear.

What might it be? Who could it be?
Had the door not been closed when I went off to sleep?
The infant child began to ruminate about all the possibilities,
Until the moment it grew tired and drifted into a dream.

The child became the rider of the wind.
Dreaming of endless encounters with other hopeless victims.
Have you not noticed the source of energy imposed from within?
It was the child who crafted this skin of sin.

The silent scream soared throughout the sky.
Until the unconscious mind transformed, as it stroked midnight.
Ding…****…Ding… The animal awoke from its den;
After a superfluous vibe was intuitively picked up from within.

By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Restivo Jun 2010
the room is saturated with the sounds and smells of post-coitus:
          heavy breathing, a gasp for air, still audible past the music turned up to
          mask those initial, irrepressible moans.
                    humidity, hanging moisture created by two bodies in vigorous
                    motion.
                              sweat, still slick, still dripping down thighs, *******, still
                              pooling in those wonderful crevasses the body creates, now
                              extinguishes, with the bend of a limb or turn of a neck.
                                        the sharp and penetrating undertone of saliva.
                                                  that unmistakable stink of *** that is not one
                                                  thing, but two things, and many things, mixed,
                                                  merged into one heady, oppressive, still
                                                  intoxicating cloud.
          movement, and a window is opened.
                    the moisture and floating heat are whisked out into the cool night.
                              sweat droplets maneuver between suddenly formed goose
                              bumps, then are gone, evaporated.
                                        breathing is lower; heat, inescapable earlier, is now
                                        eagerly sought through blanket and body, two forms
                                        disappeared together in warmth, in slow sleep.
- august 2008
Kush Apr 2016
Specimens of long pig struggle from their mound
Sky-splitting screams starkly resound
My veins circulate a steady stream of spite
For their mewling humbug has turned quite trite

It wasn’t too pleasant when the taunts started to singe
When **** forced me into a balancing act across society’s fringe

One by one, I separate my courses from the flock
Store their tender bits inside of Ma’s favored crock
I then engage in a vigorous process of toil
Lower frantic faces into water made to boil
Skin hastily detaches, tongues flop lopsided
Scalded fists clench and eyes bulge cross-sighted

I scurry on webs of scorn
Maim my prey with marks of malice
Eat torn hearts with mine retaining its layer of callous
These lesser swine are absorbed into my design
Their bodies gorged on with generous gouts of fine wine
“Oh, I do hope not to get too drunk”
-I think while chewing on an especially splendid chunk
Amber Daydreams Oct 2011
I've never been so fixated on the the scent of another

As I have found myself with you, gorgeous lover

Your body is so soft, inviting, and warm

Evoking sensual activities I yearn to perform:

licking you softly
stroking you hard
tongues intertwine
as your body gets scarred
my heart beats fast
while my breathing is sporadic
embracing you tightly
rarely ever so ecstatic
the sweat pours
along with moans of delight
I'll **** you off
until you put up a fight
switch to vigorous thrusts
entangled, sublime
**** me so good
it should be a crime
anything you do
I'm sure to enjoy
so never doubt yourself,
beautiful boy
my fingers are eager
set to explore
just say the words
and I'll be your *****


Oh strong man, you will be missed

I'm grateful for those lips that I've kissed

I lust over you to the extremes

And when you are gone, you'll remain in my dreams <3
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
Lost and Found

A labyrinth ever darkening passage man’s impossible journey and quest with the back drop of rich vibrancy of life being expended at
Every turn the steps consume time the natural life cycle is the goal live it up push the boundaries but never stop and really see where
The twist and turns are leading they lead you on but they are not delivering you only bound for the burning now lost yearning.

The soul the great empty store house neglected only holds cobwebs and loose memories this royal holy sacred place
There are drawers where just air exist these were made to hold garments made of spiritual golden thread derived of what he said
Glass cased cabinets were to hold awards and trophies never realized the soul held subject to the body grand deeds it misplaces
Scrolls gather dust just minor writings allowed poking out of a cubby hole the great treatise that marks and maps heaven are lost

Sundry bowls goblets dishes made for feasting on divine meats and delicacies still wrapped there delights never enjoyed
In them would be found nourishment the making of muscle vigorous activating power over powering mans outer appetite
He could store those weighty words that could sway hearts of others by the truth how greatly they should be employed
Only silence answers arguments reason divine instruction missed life’s activity saw no need for quiet mediation soulful empowerment

Slip among the vestiges of lost opportunity they stream out like empty gowns out ward winds only they do fill saddest waste
Contrary beliefs to what are plainly shown the entire fulfillment a wayward life craves to be entertained not instructed in what’s right
The truly dedicated have their soul’s store house abundantly crowded with spiritual food all cataloged ready for any and all taste
Subject to the demands of an orderly disciplined mind and heart you find richness in this walk and in forever’s sublime state
Mike Hopkins Nov 2011
My shadow has been behaving strangely in recent weeks
I’ve noticed that it’s far less docile than it used to be
For instance, on those occasions when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a shop window
And see an older, more stooped person than I expect
My shadow is strutting upright, youthful, vigorous
And then when I’m struggling to run for the bus, heart pounding
My shadow is impatiently hurrying ahead, no longer so willing to wait for me
I swear last week when out cycling, it tried to overtake me
When I’m walking through crowds, careful not to gaze too long or longingly at the young women
My shadow is **** well staring and ogling and half turning to follow them
This worries me.  I’m concerned about my shadow’s state of mind
I fear it is about to abandon me for a younger model
©Mike Hopkins 2011
Blog: mistakenforarealpoet.wordpress.com

Age can creep up on you.
kelsey w Jun 2013
how
never in my wildest imagination
could i manufacture a person so divergent
so anomalous
so exceptional

you must have been contrived
by the fiercest of counterculturists
combining parts from one trope
to one entirely different
in a mismatched concoction
of fabricated mystery

so raw with your masculinity
so vigorous in your handiwork
but so tender at heart
so sensitive to the trivial ails
of your reeling lover

everything you do is so
wildly unprecedented
so fresh
so renewing
i'm shocked by your creativity
your boundless ingenuity
that reveals the matchless wonder
of your magnificent humility

someone so dapper
should not possess a heart so full
so vibrant
so goofy
and so open to love
because then someone like me
could fall in and never
find her way out

composed and collected
but in romance unbridled
how do you find the balance
so perfectly
for my two greatest desires?
i'm safe but i'm challenged
i'm motivated, excited, aroused-
i'm home

you stun me with your simplicity
and blind me with your charm
you are a force so alluring
so potent
so constructive
so irrevocably mine
They wonder how she got
smarter and harder
in the nick of time,
They fear her wild aura
repelling all the negative vibes everytime.
"Why she is laughing"?
They felt envious of her happiness
Every looser living a low life
Interrogated her vigorous soul
cause they are haunted,
Haunted with her combination of hellfire and holy water soul .
Always pretending like cold hearted,
So unreliable
no one can never count on her
in the matters of secrecy,
and this world can't bear her strong tenacity ...!!!
Like a famous man named Don Quixote
Early morning with words as a sword
I'm going right against the rightless crowd
Even Pansa is no longer here with his help
I ride Rosinante the indomitable mare
If only Dulcinea is on my side
Encourages me with her pretty smile
For the fight that i would surely win
These giant arms with stentor voices
Life is a long and every day fight
It's not time for the happy song
Here is a speech and madness for the morning fight
I do not want just to be right about the speech
Hey you giants without voice I challenge you
Today and every day until the end of the song
I am not any knight trust me i am a vigorous one
Even if I am a warrior with a sad figure
I have neither the time nor the leisure for joy
Take it easy as a morning fairless song
If you take my advise look for a jazz song
To make your day better then not to quarrel
For any useless reason at the end
I admit you have reason as a crowd
A crowd can **** any lion or a famous knight
Even the one named Don Quixotte !
The crowd has always the last argument!
Danielle Rose Dec 2013
It was quite the fiasco based on figment
Finite and forged
Our affair kept me famished
Fabricated and farce
Merely a fantasy where I featured a feasible feather
So far from my flock
Forlorn on a foreign turf
Why me?I began to fathom
Flustered as I fought the formidable

He was a vandal
Vigorous and vindictive
I'd often venture to misapprehend his vacant vitality leaving me indifferent
I became lost in this vagabond
Now left voided and breaking under scrutiny
This vermin could be the death of me
Hal Loyd Denton Aug 2012
Lost and Found
A labyrinth ever darkening passage man’s impossible journey and quest with the back drop of rich vibrancy of life being expended at
Every turn the steps consume time the natural life cycle is the goal live it up push the boundaries but never stop and really see where
The twist and turns are leading they lead you on but they are not delivering you only bound for the burning now lost yearning.
The soul the great empty store house neglected only holds cobwebs and loose memories this royal holy sacred place
There are drawers where just air exist these were made to hold garments made of spiritual golden thread derived of what he said
Glass cased cabinets were to hold awards and trophies never realized the soul held subject to the body grand deeds it misplaces
Scrolls gather dust just minor writings allowed poking out of a cubby hole the great treatise that marks and maps heaven are lost
Sundry bowls goblets dishes made for feasting on divine meats and delicacies still wrapped there delights never enjoyed
In them would be found nourishment the making of muscle vigorous activating power over powering mans outer appetite
He could store those weighty words that could sway hearts of others by the truth how greatly they should be employed
Only silence answers arguments reason divine instruction missed life’s activity saw no need for quiet mediation soulful empowerment
Slip among the vestiges of lost opportunity they stream out like empty gowns out ward winds only they do fill saddest waste
Contrary beliefs to what are plainly shown the entire fulfillment a wayward life craves to be entertained not instructed in what’s right
The truly dedicated have their soul’s store house abundantly crowded with spiritual food all cataloged ready for any and all taste
Subject to the demands of an orderly disciplined mind and heart you find richness in this walk and in forever’s sublime state
Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
Pass on
Select the time and contemplate the goals
My golden Goddess, my Queen
The sanctimonious moments of life
Those you live for

An intrinsic grove confiding in the glistening sun

Lovers strolling down the dirt paths **** without shame

It is natural here; joy and laughter fill the air

Our brains elevated with naivety and innocence

Ambient sounds and kind voices are all we hear

Select the hymn from the long, long ago
The moment is here
“Be free” they chant
Under the sun
In the shade of a cryptic tree

Ship out here again to the grove
Roam through the cool pastures
Join us
As we dance to the overture

Dark eyed underlings
Hissing impulsively
Madhouse notions enter the man’s cranium

We are gathered at this junction for this vigorous cross breeding
Of the immense love and the prolific lust we have for life
And extend an olive branch to those with a dim acceptance of death

Bent on devouring mortality
Floundering to pump out a miracle
On a spree of existence
Cruising behind tinted intentions
Melodies crumble sheepishly

Ah, divine originator of life
Allow us immortality
To escape our awful fates
And plan a mutiny against Charon

We beg for silk and satin intimacy

Evil wicked sorcerers of the soul are refused iconic eternal life
Gentle menders of the spirit may bask in the glorious groves of timelessness
Frank Russell Jul 2015
A crescent moon
creates sublime
mountain silhouettes

Against an unclouded
background dome
that is the Milky Way

Beneath which cool
vigorous breezes -
carrying scent of pine
and highlands river -

Drift over underbrush
where crickets sound off
in their perfect pitch
monotone.

And sitting here
on the wilderness threshold
I await
philosophical and literary
inspiration, but
- nothing.

So, simply a nod
in gratitude
to the unadulterated
vista.


- fr
the chappy from Moree
and his Narrabri sidekick
put their heads together
and came up with a dandy trick

it was effective in hunting
those common B Graders away
for they'd determined that only
exemplary talent would stay

the chappy and his sidekick
are a most fabulous cohort
they'll not freely associate
with any routine sort

into their hallowed space
you'll be rapidly ushered in
but it is a must to wear
their Mason's variety of grin

some have got aboard
the chappies and sidekick's train
they'll be projected into
the fastest possible lane

the lad's conditions of rule
are certain and absolute
to be atop the mountain with them
you need to be resolute

it is safe to say that the chappy
and his sidekick know their stock
they'll not permit ordinary people
to join their excellent flock

at all times they patrol the zone
with a vigorous stick
to not let the riff raff
gain any illustrious pick

twill make their day to see
the run of the mill shown out
so they've all the clout
that can be bandied about
Travis Green Feb 2023
His hairy splashy masterpiece is
Bursting at the seams with quintessential
Incomprehensible inventiveness
His action-packed attention-grabbing pecs are
The hottest hypnotic wonderment
That enthralls my wholeness
That makes me behold his ***** suckable machoness

Such seductive strokable dopeness
Banging hot abs, unrivaled tatted biceps
I wanna relax in his gratifying and smashing mantasticness
Where my hands rest on his sensuous sinewy thighs
Where my expressive fetching eyes

Check out his vicious prodigious pipe
Hankering for a bite of his man-sized enticing delight
Put it in my mouth, let his rock-solid **** head
Coalesce with my throat
Choke on his bold smoking showstopper

Let him conquer my rainbow globe
Showcase his hard-hitting and thrilling slickness
Embrace the moistness of his gloriousness
Savor the sensationalness of his rude family jewels
Dancing on the surface of my tongue

Be bound to his astounding high-powered manliness
My impressive incontestable handsomeness
I wanna be in the depths of his magical unfathomable abyss
Treasure his sleek, oiled form
Let my flawless glossy lips dominate his virile veined pipe

Hold it hostage, feel it throb, make him extra hot
Show him that I am in it to win it
To feel the wholeness of his showiness
Streaming through my bloodstream
Feel his vigorous appealing supremeness overpowering me

My lordly five-star kryptonite
I wanna be all over his laudable saucy ***
Delight in his lustrous lovable treats
Let him see how dickmatized I am
How badly he enraptures me so

I submit to his legit lit ****
**** him more and more
Explore his mighty and most sublime kingdom
Of divine supernatural passion
Gag on his staggering savageness

Cause my jaws to become sore
The more I enjoy his lurid muscular alluringness
He makes me so soft on his mucho macho pulchritude
His smooth rude boy attitude
Groovy booming coolness that moves me

I give him swell head, caress his most excellent reverent legs
Let him witness my wicked sweetness
Let him feed me his hugeness
And exude his lewd dude fuel
Everywhere on my ecstatic face
Knocking from the dimmest level
The wisest gate speaks without rejection
Encourage me to levitate within you
So that you and I, together
Shall break the complicated walls of reality

Mystic gate don't give away my destiny
Only give me the strength to accrue
For every minute that I am weak
Bring the crimson flames within me to burn in streaks
To that, I shall rise from the ground
And hold the smile that hides the frown

And in the center of this holy ground
Kismet will gather your every sound
Blow an echo from above
Until the sound of melody strikes around
Around the gates of where I stood

With the motion now set in place
Raise the spectrum to the skies
As I feel my endurance boldly shine
Let my life finally begin anew
For I shall now venture in this vigorous mood
I seek this new comfort in my body and mind
Secured in a world where all is good
John Archievald Gotera © 2013 - 2015

This poem is available in my poetry compilation book, The Home of Carmine Red.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/282380
Apoorv Bhardwaj Mar 2018
Nirbhaya

I might cry, I might weep, I might grieve,
But today you have to perceive,
A truth for my relieve.
I know you know, I won't deceive.

She called me Nirbhaya, my mother,
Fearless and brave I ought to be.
Something she knew about this world,
So harsh it is meant to be.

It was a usual night,
all strangers but no fright.
I took the same road to home,
the road which guarded for years in lone.

I walked the lonely road,
I do not fear, my name held my hope.
All I fear is that it do not end,
as hope is no less than a rope.

It varies in length,
It varies in strength,
It's nothing to cloy,
But it's not a forever joy.

The roads were getting longer,
My heart wore a dismal veil.
It all seemed so tedious to reach,
with fright it started a peculiar gale.

I must not stop, I must go on,
I held my hope and I went on.
Why do I fear if nothing good appear,
In the name of my god I can cheer.

Far at the horizon some shapes appeared,
I held my breath, the breeze were wierd.
I held my faith and like a knight I went,
No horse, no shield, what on earth did I meant.

In my bravery I was lost,
Thence the men appeared.
What a fool I was for what will it cost,
The dreary eyes with a dreary beard.

Side by side they shoved,
The men not more than two.
All my breaths were choked,
What did they meant to do.

I scrambled at once,
Nor besides nor abaft I looked.
The footsteps broke the silence,
The silent night was spooked.

Out of the blue my hand was seized,
All at once I turned.
The dreadful two met my eyes,
Out my heart it burned.

“Unhand me! let me go!”,
To break loose I tried.
Tears did rolled down my cheeks,
I screamed and yelled and cried.

No good men did heard me,
No one did follow.
What pleasures would they earn,
hearing me weep and wallow.

All my yells were ceased,
tried to flee through my eyes.
Top to bottom I was teased,
till every yell turned to sighs.

Eftsoon my eyes wore a veil,
fear spread its wings.
None to follow the trail,
A dark melody it sings.

I resisted their temptation,
Down the road I was shuffled.
I totterd while learning to walk,
But no one ever hustled.

In a while the groping concluded,
And out my heart I sobbed.
Henceforth a while I stood untouched,
But still the painful heartbeats throbbed.

I faltered, and horrified I stood,
Darkness  engulped my eyes.
Every hope did swept,
Soaked into the veil that ties.

But not for too long I enjoyed,
this harrowing freedom of mine.
A palm explored the wonders,
that groping reckless swine.

He mauled as the time passed by,
He laughed as I cried.
I was and feeble,
the more I weeped the more he tried.

One by one they parted,
Piece by piece he ripped my skin.
Victim of the vigorous haste,
slivered top and slivered jeans off the shin.

Soon he swayed all my flesh,
With all his fingers he plied.
Groped my skin with all his filth,
I weeped and sobbed and cried.

Trying to hide the genitals,
There I stood naked.
What else  men can do,
It was anticipated.

Disobliging did annoy ,
Forthwith the veil was swept.
I was a plaything for their joy,
All my grieve I wept.

From one to another I was tossed ,
each leaving a scar.
Feasting their wildest lust,
all the planets and I their star.

A few more added,
added to the raging set.
Brawling for my flesh,
Like their dreams they met.

Off they took their covers ,
Little by little they shed.
A few times they snick,
All my faith I bled.

All my hopes I lost,
Their scrubbing skin did scraped.
It’s facile to die a thousand times,
Then for once being *****.

So inhumanly it pierced,
Out my heart it ripped.
Tears did impelled down my cheeks ,
The cheeks made to be felt or kissed.

Draining smoke and widdle and ***,
Turn by turn they shagged.
Offering an eternal torment,
All my grace they blagged.

Seconds felt like hours,
hours like days .
No wonder mere humans were they,
The devil hath their ways.

Like a setting sun they frazzled,
a sun of endless grieve.
I the wonky that they dazzled,
Or what did they perceive.

I should not walk the roads,
Nor I should talk to thee.
For I will turn to a harlot,
Who knows what else you might see.

Soon I was abandoned ,
withered by some ghoul.
I wasn’t the pioneer,
The devil needed a new soul.

The dark night overwhelmed,
Leaving me unconsumed, uneaten,untouched.
My snivel sealed through the silence,
Bethinking how they groped or clutched.

Like every other night this one too,
Passed in grieves that can’t be undone.
Day and night, night and day,
Who can seize the cycles of the sun.

Countless nights have passed ,
My heart still miss some beats .
Beseech the will to pretermit ,
The memory has it on its sheets.

I saw no good men that day,
No god did appear.
I could never raise my head and stay,
This memory will never disappear.

What a fool I was ,
I should have run.
But had I any choice,
to flee or to shun.

If not here then there,
Round in the world somewhere,
They will come for it, the bust,
to feed the endless lust.

I saw no good men that day,
No god did appear .
Just a few men to say,
I bought a disgrace, I should disappear.

Why was i a shame ?,
All my esteem they drown.
Those lecherous souls do gladly glide,
bearing a princely crown.

I was the culprit,
They were young and proud.
I was looted of my treasure,
Not all they took but left a shroud.

The beasts in there were grim,
The nobles out here no less.
To them my yells were hymm,
To them I lost my nobelesse.
Why is it that women do not feel safe in between men ...have we lost the meaning of manlihood ?
Tannor Fortin Dec 2014
Cold snow covers the ground,
Cuddled in blankets around in a mound.
Hot chocolate toasty,
Along with the air.

The fire is burning strong and bright,
Warming the room with vigorous bite.
Watching the flames,
Your body is warmed.

With loved ones in mind,
You get up to leave,
Enter your room and happily you find,
Your bed awaits your arrival.

You lay down to rest,
You gave it your best.
You close your eyes,
To put an end to this busy day.

Merry Christmas
Song about my favorite things about Christmas.
Travis Green Aug 2023
He commands me with his aggressive energy
Breaks down the door to my core
Hijacks my voluptuous form
With his untouchable lusciousness
Pull me into his magical realm
Of delectable passion

He consumes me like maple syrup-covered pancakes
Like finger-licking bacon and eggs
He makes me float
In the arms of his machoness
Luxuriate in his invigorating scent

My impeccably lovely dream guy
My virilely appealing heavy-hitter
He has me in an **** of enjoyment
The more I rivet my eyes
On his ripped, vigorous deliciousness

Being with him feels like a bewitching
Expedition to sweet paradise
He makes my mouth water
With the way he touches
The deepest depths of my vessel

Again and again, take me down
Make me feen for his sizzling sting
His top-notch monolithic sausage
Put it in my mouth
Savor his heavenly magnificence

He roots me with his massive
Drool-worthy meat clackers
I can’t contain myself
I am beside myself
Immersing myself in all
His masculine dominance
Deep in the folds
My vulnerable places
Like a draft displaces
Turbid Stagnance
Firey sun illuminates
The dewey fertile soil
Infiltrating unturned
Spongy depths
Stimulates the follicles
Teases tenacious life
Into frothing vigorous
Surging prominence
Hungry searching tongues
Tasting the flushed flesh
So forceful and so hot
in open air
Primitively freely
illuminate
My hunger
Devour me
Like a flame
Consuming
My pride and shame
To surrender
Is to love you
And the falling
Hurts the best
Ravindra Kumar Jun 2013
At some time in past, pacing dispersed deliberated fine,
I met accidentally childhood a mate close to mine;
Yet, he is not mendicant, stiff replete,
Become visible altogether equally, drew sight;
'Hastily reach somewhere I', was my only answer - ignite.
If no symphony exists in human race, matter excite.
Soon the spirit stirred to delineate-
Many eyes were fixed at me and comrade.

He too is man of dignity and pride
Well learnt, self-reliant, vigorous and gratified;
Little his fanatic and freak made him waif
And confirm not an ideal of living safe.

Astonishingly perk, perhaps, he concluded actual existence,
Sneer with splashing note on my strange performance:
Set uncombed hair posting both hands thereon
Marched towards destination unsettled in gloomy way-worn.

It is gesture tells standard all of us.
In as for as, society co-operate with loquacious
Hugged not poor and deserving due to hesitate,
Victorious appreciated beyond measure those ne'er violate.
Turn round the cycle pursuing principles certain we feel,
Ready not to deny ostensible reserved in our deal
An artless inquiry knock but in vain
Just digest, can landscape bloom without rain?
The scale of judging standard of a man must be impartial.
amora Aug 2018
Once, my momma told me to be vigorous
She teached me how to fight with manner
She told me how to argue in righteous
She told me not to be hungry in power.

Once, my momma told me how to be a great man
She teached me how to do chores
She teached me everything in the long run
She was my hero, my saviour that I adore.

My momma, was there through my whole existence
She teached and tell me everything I need to know
She became my mother and father without difference
She was there everytime I get older and to get a blow.

Once, I miss her vanilla pie so I run back home
Feeling excited—I rush inside through the door
I have a big smile, but in a while my body became a stone
I saw it with my two eyes my mother was lying on the floor.

I snapped out and came back from my reverie
I was about to come closer when I saw my hands dripping with blood
Suddenly I saw a mirror with a reflection of me
I was holding a gun and a smile curved into my lips before I hear a thud.

I woke up, in a small filthy cell
I realized I am a prisoner
Time flies so fast I couldn't tell
I remembered I was a murderer.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2017
Engulfed in the peace like a dime between a thumb
and drop of blood... a forlorn noose, 'round the neck
of a Christmas goose.... and a pantheon of dull sparks
barking at the nails in my palm.
How quiet it all seems
now that our rivals, love our rivalry.
How the bridges burn.
As the Netherworld chums
the  River Styx
for a shark's
black pearl.

Let us come to a sharp place
on a flatline. Arrive adjacent to the waters
of our turbulent pond.
There, we must go, where the withering
is more vast
and the hours sour
the bloom
of our dignity... to better capture
the wave of our undone
tired light... lurching through the trauma
of our vigorous demise.
Two thousand and seven.  Late September....
The spaceships came when I was in bed...
There still is a lot I cannot remember.  Perhaps they implanted a chip in my head.
But I seem to recall dancing lights on the wall all around my posters of
Beyoncé, a low-frequency sound and a pulsating pound as I was engulfed by a magnetic ray.
I was paralyzed in my Flintstones pajamas.
It lifted then floated me towards the stars and the orbital base of an alien race on their mischievous mission from Mars.
I found myself in a sterile room...
I was strapped face down on a metal tray...
The aliens entered in tinfoil dashikis...
(They either were mimes or had nothing to say).
Each one looked like a tiny Cher: plastic faces minus the hair.
With never so much as a "how are you, Joe?" they slashed my pajamas with their laser tool, whereupon, using probes that were beeping below
they began to do things that weren't cool
and I felt for the first time shame and disgrace for my ***-tattoo of ****
Cheney's face.
I thought, "Am I dreaming?  Am I still asleep?" As over and over they
Beep-beep-beep.
Why such interest?  Why invest in this vigorous quest up my lower intestine?  Did they hope to study or maybe inspect some
mysterious feature while beeping my ******?
I strained in the straps but I couldn't get loose as the weird little beepers
beep-beeped my caboose.
With continuous beeping filling my ear the bleeping E.Ts went on beeping my rear...callously...clinically beeping me numb.
They treated me like I was some bleeping ***!
Though frightened, exhausted, indignant and weak, very bravely I then turned the other cheek.
I'd been violated.  My sprit broke...the **** of an intergalactic joke.
Dishonored,, betrayed, invaded and duped...
Disgusted, embarrassed, and BOY WAS I POOPED!
Yet oddly I wanted a smoke.
With all their tests run, at last they were done and they left the "lab" en masses having thoroughly beep-beeped my &@$!
I woke up okay in my bed the next day but my ***** did not feel quite right.
I've been in treatment for several years now.
My therapist thinks I'm uptight
but I've learned to live with my dignity stolen and a pro to-illogical rare
semi-colon.
I'm happy I wasn't abducted to Venus where aliens commonly bing-bing
your nose and ears.
NO.  THIS DID NOT REALLY HAPPEN
Travis Green Sep 2022
I love the way you check me out
With your amorous shamrock green eyes
Electrify my state of mind
Feed the hungry fire in my heart and soul
Make me zealously anticipate luxuriating
In your sensational tasteful foundation
Feel your keen supreme limbs

Mean impenetrable dreaminess
As hard as strongly magnetic and incandescent iron
Irresistible vicious killah
You are a delicious vigorous big hitter
I relish your moistened, sparkling body
How your sculptured stalwart chest
Draw me into your untouchable supple arms

Radical tatted mantasticness
You are an awakening constellation of stars
That scintillate upon my heartland
Your shining refined design is
An expressive and passionate language
Of flaming, unchanging love
It is unsurpassed magicalness
Streaming in my flesh and bone

It’s profound and long-cherished poetry in motion
That takes my breath away
Fond alluring lover boy
I explore your fresh, luring, and satisfying lips
Ease in to kiss you, to rub my fingers all around
Your fiercely fashionable beard
Drown in your unconquerable domineering delight
Travis Green Feb 2022
I yearn for your silkily spectacular splashiness
To feel your precious velvet caresses
Your warm, captivating body locked to mine
The intriguing vividness of your frame
Inveighles me into your extraordinarily illuminating manliness
Your world blazes through my heartland
Fazes my existence, makes me so profoundly dazed
My thoughts are toppled the more I revel in your awesome sauce

You are a smooth streaming summer breeze
Ever so fresh and vigorous, exuberant and sensuous
Unalloyed splendor, incredible, magical delight
Your clean, supreme, and masculine scent fills my nostrils
Makes me wander in the entrance halls of your artistic hotness
Your beguiling black eyes beckon me in the proximity of your bliss
Your enchantingness tremendously transfixes me

All I can see at this moment is fondling your body
Beholding your sparkling, showstopping wonderment
Your hands clinging to my ****, chesty *******
My bare, soft neck, my deliciously appealing shoulders
Your hot, masculine, and bulging muscles
Feel magical against my skin
I long for you to barge into my sensual, alluring charms
And rock me in every ****** position
That stimulates you everywhere
Ottar Apr 2015
Not a four letter word,
                                    chase the birds and                           with this
                                                            ­        discover bliss,
Under Heaven, there is time for everything, even this,

Can't be art, or are you nature?
This can reflect your posture.

to smile for all seasons
need not one reason

Vigorous pulse and impulsive
Sleep is wasted, and repulsive,


This is to die for in a fight
It ain't right, war
but it is the way
of the world, and of old men.
A riddle
Answer: well take a guess in the comments and it must be an exact match
No guesses yet it has been almost 24 hours...okay you are all being nice to...need more reads....and guesses!
Martin Rasmussen Mar 2010
Through such measures we'd never use
we could change the world.
But we were the generation
that was much too nice.

Through such drastic measures
we do nothing but think about
we could have the power to change
the very world to our mind.

Through such vigorous measures
we could change the word
and make it the world.
We could preach what we practice
or preach with our practice.
Like an omen,
I'm free now,
Body yearning for it,
The vigorous tenacity of love,
Whispering its promises of blood, soothingly singing.
-
Well animated, atmospheric,
He never arrived home,
The strange figure that pursues,
Question how a man turned red.
He can't get home,
Make it rain, make it rain sad man.
-
Bring back memories hidden inside the shell,
Earlier attached,
Unmodified.
The rules are simple: win.

~March 25th 2013
"Found poetry is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them as poetry..." -Wikipedia
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013
A labyrinth ever darkening passage man’s impossible journey and quest with the back drop of rich vibrancy of life being expended at
Every turn the steps consume time the natural life cycle is the goal live it up push the boundaries but never stop and really see where
The twist and turns are leading they lead you on but they are not delivering you only bound for the burning now lost yearning.

The soul the great empty store house neglected only holds cobwebs and loose memories this royal holy sacred place
There are drawers where just air exist these were made to hold garments made of spiritual golden thread derived of what he said
Glass cased cabinets were to hold awards and trophies never realized the soul held subject to the body grand deeds it misplaces
Scrolls gather dust just minor writings allowed poking out of a cubby hole the great treatise that marks and maps heaven are lost

Sundry bowls goblets dishes made for feasting on divine meats and delicacies still wrapped there delights never enjoyed
In them would be found nourishment the making of muscle vigorous activating power over powering mans outer appetite
He could store those weighty words that could sway hearts of others by the truth how greatly they should be employed
Only silence answers arguments reason divine instruction missed life’s activity saw no need for quiet mediation soulful empowerment

Slip among the vestiges of lost opportunity they stream out like empty gowns out ward winds only they do fill saddest waste
Contrary beliefs to what are plainly shown the entire fulfillment a wayward life craves to be entertained not instructed in what’s right
The truly dedicated have their soul’s store house abundantly crowded with spiritual food all cataloged ready for any and all taste
Subject to the demands of an orderly disciplined mind and heart you find richness in this walk and in forever’s sublime state
Frisk Feb 2016
Dreamology: Chloe continues to have dreams after a girl named Max, saving her life over and over. AU where Max and Chloe never met, and Max still has her powers. Chloe’s POV.
_______________

Prologue August 8th, 2013:

“Dare to visualize a world in which your most treasured dreams have become true. – Ralph Marston”

Lightning crackled stentoriously in the bleak gray sky. That wasn’t the first thing I registered. It was the rain nipping at my exposed skin as I pushed myself off the ground. The winds were vigorous and unrelenting as I pushed my blue hair back into my beanie. The strands kept on flinging itself into my vision, making me stumble slightly. Working my legs to climb up the hill, I finally made it to the top where a girl sat at the bench looking down into her lap. Directly in front of her was the largest ******* tornado I’ve ever seen. It was a ******* behemoth.

I gripped onto her shoulder roughly. “What the **** are you doing? There’s a storm right there!”

I pointed at the monster of a whirlwind, her head slowly turning towards me. The side view of the girl made it apparent that she was actually very cute. Her high cheekbones were peppered with freckles, her curved lips like something made out of calligraphy, her nose as small as a button, her long and feminine eyelashes were one of the few things that stuck out to her. “Chloe, I don’t want to lose you.”


A loud snap aroused me from my nap when I noticed a ruler was less than two centimeters from my face. Pushing myself off the desk, I looked into the face of Ms. Grant who didn’t look pleased. “Napping in class, huh? Pay attention, Price, some of this material will be on your upcoming quiz.”

Wobbling back up to the board like a penguin, I pressed my knuckles against the bottom of my chin pretending to look vaguely interested in Ms. Grant’s boring science lesson. Truth was, my mind was reeling the events of that dream. Who was that girl? Why do I keep on having dreams about her?

Rachel – as expected – was trying her best not to giggle so much as to cause interruption. For some reason, her laughter was going undetected by Ms. Grant. Pulling out my phone from under my desk, I sent Rachel a quick angry text.

Chloe: i c u laughing *******. r we gonna fite 1v1? 12:22 pm
Rachel: figured you would either skip this class or sleep the entire day. looks like it’s the latter. 12:24 pm
Chloe: yea i’m going to body slam you after class. just u wait. 12:25pm
Rachel: bet you won’t. you will probably hit your head on something. 12:27pm

I grabbed one of the graded worksheets that Ms. Grant gave back to us, balled it up slowly, and threw it at Rachel’s head when Ms. Grant was turned around. Her blonde hair whipped around to face me, her eyes screaming, “THIS MEANS WAR.” Quickly, she threw it back before awkwardly turning around to face Ms. Grant who hovered in front of Rachel’s desk. “Rachel, let’s talk after class.”
ooo

“You’re such a bad influence on me.” Rachel joked, her hair up in a towel bun. All she was wearing was the Otters swim suit, a heavy jacket, and the towel. Her tanned legs seemed to shine with leftover droplets of chlorine water. “My eyes are up here, Chloe.”

“No wonder why guys hit on you at those swim meets.”

“Chloe Price, are you flirting with me?” Rachel laughed, taking out a box of cigarettes out of her jacket. She gave one to me, which I graciously accepted. “It’s kind of irritating. Kind of like when you’re at your job, and some **** bag decides to come in and be an *******. I don’t need that ****.”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Look, Rachel. It sounds crazy, but I keep on having that ******* tornado dream.
Chapter **
Decalogue

In the absence of Vernarth's transitory, Sardinia was still burning with lilting water. Already rejoining the plasma from which he saw him depart, he continued in the liturgy with monophonic ideologies, characteristic of trance as an element of his regressive parapsychological transfiguration. Already divided into various personalities and entities, he could have almost been instructed to leave for Piacenza and join Raeder and Petrobus to set sail for the Dodecanese to expand his duties with Saint John the Evangelist. He meets with Etréstles and the participating comrades that when he arrived at the refuge in the morning, everyone was asleep, except Etréstles who was starching some sheets of bread dough for breakfast. Meanwhile, he had sacred fire heating with sacred water for everyone. Vernarth approaches and Khaire tells him, he answers, a joy to see you.

Vernarth says: Beloved Brother Etrétles, I have already taken the notations to begin the decalogue. Today in the afternoon we will board the Sailboat and leave for Piacenza. We are in the final offering. In the Izanna tower, I called upon the powers of the Universe to present them, and I was commissioned to make notations of the Decalogue of the souls that Live in all the ages of time and its vicissitudes.

Everyone starts to wake up, look at him and say hello. They sit in a circle to enjoy breakfast. Meanwhile, outside the shelter, the horns felt moving to the rhythm of the minutes. In such a way, that the last sound of the Doric scale that the storm segregates, will provide the beginnings of each one of boarding the float that will take them to the pier of Cala Cogone. Everyone says goodbye and hugs each other, Vernarth and his brother says Khaire.

Decalogue I                  
Hanael
                                      ­      
Generosity transformed into a crowd. Many stones co-exist emanating the sweet energy of Hanael, and among these is the Onix, known as the stone of truth. Whose objectivism was dreamed of the Value of generosity in its maximum expression in the courage centered on the very vibration flower of the Gerbera, along with its sober goats of the reign of the heights? Hyperkinetic foot and ascension to spiritual psychic growth, which is the real emblem and symbolism of all the virtues of all the planes, the history not traced, or the memory that is mentioned.

Two unicorns alone will be reached by the ****** who will numb them with the perfume of her purity and her chastity, the reason why she will be related to the ****** Mary and the incarnation of her son Jesus by hugging them with her cloak. The Unicorn's single horn is an emblem of the spiritual arrow, divine revelation, the entrance of the supernatural into man, the sword of God, the opening of the third eye, whose vision is projected towards the ends of the angelic world. Hail Regina Sine Labe Originali Spectam.

Decalogue II
Saint Gabriel

Vernarth you tied to a tree with canvases draws himself to the Angel in his name meaning "God is my strength". According to the Abrahamic religions and Judaism. As a result, she became known as "the messenger". Angel Gabriel continues to have a role in the world, helping both parents and human messengers. Blowing the trumpet to announce the return of the lord to Earth.

In his mediumship, the Archangel Gabriel inspires artists, singers, poets, writers, and dancers, helps them communicate on a spiritual level to recover inspiration, innocence, purity, and joy of living. From which this egregious Vernarth Travel Wheel is not exempt until it is consecrated in Patmos as a sacred and lay reference of a spiritual being in gestation. From here he will cultivate the dignity and the Abrahamic mothers so that they can accept their body, awakening in the souls the scriptural power and communicating vigorous forces, which facilitate overcoming fear and lack of decision in life. Sponsoring God's messages to those who worship him.

Vernarth violates the Xiphos sword's decree to shed blood, but rather to purify the gesture of shedding Faith that cuts hopelessness. United in the Templars gripped by their fellow men of the spiritual warfare that never loses, that is always ready to the limit.


Decalogue III
Two premises

From the first two decalogues, the third is born. Both by the glow of the first reactivates the other, which is a rectilinear light that surprises the dark light that tries to invade its luminosity. At very meager kilowatts, the years that separate the times of adding more vestiges of transcending on moral exercise unfold from intertwining; in such a way that in periods of frank over-excited navigation, the energy of the spirit is advanced, only measurable by the actions and intercommunications of the Angels and Archangels.
"Decalogues / ten analyzes" Assimilations of divine inspiration, which will contain ten components beyond an enumeration of premises that expose the visions when justifying a test. This decalogue includes maxims such as "The Angel is the fundamental value of Mystical Perseverance."


Decalogue IV
Where is the North

The North: Biblical scholars have suggested that the north symbolizes the permanent or the eternal, perhaps because the pole stars could be seen throughout the year. It is the place of God's heavenly habitation (Isa. 14:13) and from where his glory descends (Job 37:22) to bless or judge (Eze. 1: 4). He is the true King of the North. But the north, represented by the left hand, is also a symbol of disaster. The enemy of God's people came from the north (Jer. 1:14, 15; Eze. 38: 6), bringing destruction. In a sense, the enemy was the false king of the north who tried to usurp the role of God and who is ultimately destroyed by the Lord (Sof. 2:12; Dan. 11: 21-45). To see resting in Faith, the north does not distract your gaze, it blesses resting the whole concept that shakes the predisposition to arise to all merit given by physical unity, which I inhabit where I will rest, and the glory has to exalt me. Whoever comes from the north bringing destruction, will crash upon him, bringing reparation for the faith that rebuilds itself. The north is an anti-magnet, preventing what it cannot distort from itself in the Christian saying.


Decalogue V
The desert

Vernarth has to consume the desert like a placid arid and inhospitable place when swallowing it. There is nothing in his hands, not even the most elementary thing found. Where you suffer all kinds of discomforts: thirst and heat, inclement weather, sudden changes in temperature, sand discomfort, deprivation, and material deprivation; not only of the futile things but also of the most necessary. It must be supplied in large baskets to serve those who cultivate and protect it. The desert is a meek sheep in periods of drought when it never leaves you.

The physical reality of the desert can be like a symbol of the imminent spiritual life: it is the place of the detachment of everything superfluous; an invitation to austerity and a return to the essential. It is there where man experiences his fragility and his own limitations; the place of trial and purification. But also the most appropriate setting for a renewed and mature search for our personal encounter with God in prayer, in the silence of the soul, and in the simplicity of the essential. It is here that every symbol, more than all its significance, is transformed into a test of loneliness beyond all abundance of Faith, without even having to support it.


Decalogue VI
Vampirism

In the behavior of the person who acts like a vampire, that society prevails that the behavior is dissociated to whoever does it and not. Many vampire souls have made a pilgrimage for good. No one has been able to exclude them from the darkness and stop rising from the dead to roam the night in a bulky black cape and use long, sharp canine teeth to bite the victims' necks and **** their blood. But modern vampires tend to encounter problems of strict uniqueness such as not being happy, believing even more than by dying to them they are more than a fatal vampire. "We are all Vampires in eternity who deal with darkness and light, fear and courage."
Vampire in Sardinia is drinking the same blood and sprinkling it on the earth that nothing conceals or prescribes sin. Then a child appears, picks up the flower that germinates right there, and the cycle begins again.

“When I train myself in writing saying who I am, I only receive from the purulence of the multitudes, in centuries by centuries, not finding a basis to answer me. They say they do not know what to answer because there is no content that compares to those who have no Age, Life, or compassion. That I only have to communicate with the Strigoi messenger articulated with the souls of the dead who come out of their graves at night to terrorize the neighborhood. That it is the same as I condemned to sail and swarm the World of the Nosferatu aristocracy, a survivor of all human vanity, in all the empires of the World believing to live thousands of years without knowing who helped me, because few give me the option of giving what good of me ”


Decalogue VII
Holy incense

I breathe humid air from the superior deities; they opt for my forehead, as practices that replace those that are detonating to expel theirs. Rain of aromas alter or renew low-voltage emotions for high gods, like the Egyptians who used the most precious varieties of incense. These incense craftsmen, in the times of the Pharaohs, knew all the secrets for making high-quality incense. It has been verified that in some of the precious vessels found in the funeral chambers of Tutankhamun, they kept hundreds of kinds of incense that have still retained their magnificent aroma through the centuries. On Sheesham's bunk beds of fire. Wood and Incense with ultra sensory olfactory powers, to design elemental and supernatural hearts, to house and be adaptable to hyper-connectivity. In the Hindu religion, akasha is the foundation and essence of all things in the material world; the first palpable and concrete material element created by the god Brahmá (air, fire, water, earth are the others). "Here he sleeps without waking up when the morning doesn't wake up, and sleeps when the night doesn't get dark"


Decalogue VIII
Mythology

As mythology, it is called the set of myths typical of a people or culture. Myths, for their part, are narrations starring gods, heroes, or fantastic beings, who explain or give meaning to certain events or phenomena. The word, as such, and this in turn from the Greek μυθολογία (mythology) . Mythology, in this sense, is made up of the set of stories and beliefs, relatively cohesive, with which a people has traditionally explained itself. its origin and the reason for being of everything around it. Hence, we can affirm that mythology shapes the worldview or belief system of a culture. Vernarth from Sardinia where he never thought he was undoubtedly opens up belonging to this place more than the hundred millionth essence of his Being. It unites all the elements that melt together the liquid, aqueous, physical, gaseous, and aqueous., To form the mythology of a true verb of a parapsychological regression, like a great condiment that every mortal lacks as opposed to an immortal.
Alikantus paradigm of Alikanto on his astral journey just three days after climbing in Gaugamela...! The corners of anxiety buzz after lightening their igneous hooves by the slippery stones of the footsteps that seemed to be the same projections of their tasks that marked the Tracian soil before arriving at the request of their harangue. He resorts to Medea, before arriving in Thrace after wandering around different places in search of protection and advice to protect his master Vernarth. While He was submitting to his last opioid libations of vivid liliaceous from angiosperms encapsulated by his right pectoral. That was Alikanto's missive. Ask Medea for a potion so that she can supply her master to deflate his breastplate, and thus be able to use his Panoply breastplate in combat since there were three days left for the duel. Medea arrived in the city of Athens on a stormy day with great dark Dantesque gray on the palm of the cliff, previously escaping near the Abdera cliff, whose east was evacuating black poetry,.


Decalogue XIX
Falangist

As a tactical organization for war created in Ancient Greece and later imitated by various Mediterranean civilizations. ... The term is of Greek origin, φάλαγξ (phálanx), which was used for the defensive formation used by the Hoplites, who constituted the classical phalanx.
Almost at dusk over Zeus's beards, the Vernarth Phalanges begin to arrive. The Macedonian Phalanx or Macedonian Phalanx was an infantry formation created and used by Philip II, and later by his son Alexander the Great in the conquest of the Persian Empire. The Macedonian phalanx arose, in fact, as a response to the tactical modifications that the Theban strategists, Epaminondas and Pelópidas of ground forces, developed in the early 4th century BC. C. to oppose the superiority, although already decadent, that the Spartan hoplite formation had exerted in the land combats between the Greek cops until that date.
Nothing depresses me more than not delegating others as if they were my Falangists, making them participate in defending themselves against all disadvantages and worse punishment with the Panoply armor, a superb protector of those who has no defender. "God is my Breastplate, his Gospel protects me by never being damaged"


Decalogue X
Lepanto

Where I have to shelter, says Vernarth, hostility haunts me. Beautiful landscape that is swayed between the rushes of good that tries to be less bad. Policy judgments, how close to marketing peace, and so far from founding true poetry. Still, Vernarth crossed the waters and their customs. From Lepanto, Greece. He appeared exhausted with his eyes reddened by the gassed atmosphere that greeted them in Battle. Of whose intraterrestrial castes it was the one that was in his iron spirit and reappeared in his cape as a gesture of his personality. He arrived cracking the ****** floors of Tel Gomel when he arrived ... he was assaulted by a soldier who asked for mercy to extend his bad fortune. Lepanto is a pre-military senatorial seat, and a great preparatory to the charms of the drama of my duties that will be in Patmos, never-ending dramas.

Falangist: With his helmet in his hands and the Dorus on his cloak on the ground tells him; every single thing I tried the double edge of my sword stained him. The top sheet notified me that my family in Kalidona was in a state of irregularity since my two older children were called to serve in the militias. And the second edge of my lower Dorus I bow before the meanest preciousness of that of observing with a good spirit to cooperate, now with the callousness of my soul that overcomes it exploiting and dragging my wife as easy spoil. I know that my descendants were buried under the effect of the cataclysm of Pompeii in the future. All will emigrate and then flee when they are devastated and the unwelcome comrades return to reintegrate into the Santa María festival. The Patron Saint who consoled me, but prepared me for the resistance of such bad fortune, that one day she would let herself fall with my crops in the culture of peasant angels in fruits and devotions. I sobbed and sobbed rubbing my animals through my empty eyes day and night. They did it next to me, with the singularity of not affecting me; they went to the nearest stream to sob for me so that I would not be affected by the fatal annihilation.

Epilogue
Patmos and Saint Gabriel

Once installed with the vision of visionary brotherhood that characterizes its filial union with Reader and Petrobus. It will begin in its mediumship with the Archangel Gabriel who inspires artists, singers, poets, writers, and dancers, helps them communicate on a spiritual level to recover inspiration, innocence, purity, and joy of living. As an input of character to validation the function of the Troubadour, Juggler, or Visionary. If it were not for the written and not musical notes, nothing would be more than a vision of being closer to almost hyper-reality, established by the prophecies as historical and religious support. With this last decalogue, Vernarth establishes that one in the work of oneself remains the summary of the prototype of the work. And from the work, the summary that allows the common man to be erected, who in his free will, does not deny, but rather power his unshakable satiety of science in his prostrated soul, under the key of dogma and questioning?
Hildegard Von Bingen has sparked the interest of many scholars, mainly because it seems to contain a major contradiction with respect to the rest of his statements about his visionary experience. In that absence of ecstasy that characterizes the visionary experience of Hildegard von Bingen, It also figures the fundamental difference that separates it from its contemporary Elisabeth von Schönau, and some scholars based this fact to deny it a mystical character and grant it the attribute of prophetic. The attention of this specific passage obeys its comparison with Saint John the Evangelist. The understanding of itself seeks a model, a referent, whose wide field of meaning has to be reconstructed in order to restore the full meaning of this statement. The analysis will stop at the following aspects:

1. In the gesture through which Saint John is shown, and by which Hildegard associates herself with the evangelist and, as we will see, according to the identifications of the time, with the beloved disciple of Christ and with John of Patmos, the author. of the apocalypse.

2. Hildegard's identification with Juan de Patmos will lead us to a comparison of both visionaries focused on the modes of their representation.

3. Finally, the content of the images will be reflected on from an example, hoping that all of this will be concluded with a sharper profile of Hildegard von Bingen's visionary experience.
Vernarth says: “I wander from the stony ruins in Sardinia, to go in search of those who gave rise to themselves. When I thought about believing to create them, they presented themselves to me as a whole that prophesies Creation. ”
DECALOGUE  VERNARTH

— The End —