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Enough-
Its enough having these corporations run our nation while the infiltration of money making keeps destroying world peace aspirations-
Its like Satan and his manipulation keep telling me that success lies in the accumulation-
And the accumulation of that money making is what makes life exhilarating?
And the exhilaration of materialization keep growing as a representation of America’s successful creation-
And soon it becomes discrimination-
Upper class elevation vs. lower class stipulations-
The poor patient vs. Rich patience-
The barring margin of APR regulations-
Keep our nation rotating-Gaining speed and evaluating-
The appreciation of desperation is all for corporate gaming-
The memorization and commercialization keep our nation deprecating from the rest of the worlds visualizations-
Our accreditation creates frustration-
Segregation and integration by the new world organization-
Integration to a peaceful appropriation is questioned by this American administration-
AND I QUESTION IT?
onlylovepoetry Apr 2023
When thou and I first one another saw:
All other things to their destruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday,
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.


The Anniversary by John Donne

<>
My body was at Sunday Sabbath rest,
a weekly anniversary of soul refreshment,
my eyes resting and resisting any sear-searching,
no mental irritants, no voke to yoke from a sweet vigil desired,
yet, the rough & smooth cells both, ever mindful and a calming silenced atmosphere,
a frontline of mine~full of hazards, an exposé of vulnerable tissue

when the heart is willing, then eyes will moisten,
and vulnerability is normality’s secret wardrobe’s doorway,
those exposed, thin skinned pores give free entry by the pricking of perfect poetry, re-charged cheeks flush,
and the weight of demanding pangs electric,
insist on an insertion of pen to hand

a long lapses tween love poems,
expressive of calm seas, an orderly life,
soothing waves sound, lapping and lulling,
bursts of affection, easy satisfied by a touch,
a glancing stroke, satisfying,
an actual smile, gratifying

stumble on Donne’s words, a strong coffee stirring challenge,
to the idylls and idles of comfort that cover depths-in-earnest and well earned memories of early times when fierce embraces, verbal chases, intrigues and passions, were the shrapnel of pursuit, battle and sweet and **** surrender

by command and suasion, this pointy finger releases
colored inked stanzas, a combinatory of pleasured sensations, intermixed with so many memories of moments, visualizations, of actualizations, stabbing colored delights of
sun rising and sun setting island habitudes,
and then this, this  birthing of a poem, a freshening release of
sentinel pangs

tho the room’s quietude yet prevails,
she,
(unaware of the effort emotive raging, using old words in
new combinations, tinged by vulnerabilities and graces),
bedded beside me, distracted by book and music, still, yet,
oblivious to the ferocity of my cresting creativity,
soon will
turn routinely,
feigning plaint, inquisitive and inquiring,
do you still love me?

yet and still!
will my literary eyes literally reply,

  yet… and still…
Sun April 16
5:48pm
(still) between the heart & nyc
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2014
early risen,
life's au courant
contextual issues
are all bad bus driver dream driven,
visualizations of sonograms
of erred memories,
road forks, unwisely chosen,
incorrect in retrospect,
look back notion thoughts,
and fears of the
good works in process
never finished,
these are all the best ****
too early,
highly reliable,
internal/infernal
alarm clock

waken only to plod the dark,
upon the cool wood floors,
without any slippered coverings,
closet buried unavailable
(no treasure noisy hunting
in the dark permitted,
while the party of the second part,
yet sleeps)

the floored bottom chills
do not succeed
in comforting a mind
instant awakened-enflamed
by a long lived life recalled recapped,
of inaction and interactions,
thrones lost by
choices guided by fear and not
risk,
that in summation,
too many debtors-in-possession
of rose colored
minus signs

so the companions constants,
these well-worry-worn floors,
now refuse me,
no more to repeat,
what all too oft
they have before,
wisely spoken:

too early, man,
too late, fool,
the answers
required/sought
upon our ashen wooden countenance
cannot be elicited nor derived,
go back to bed
there, perhaps,
find what you need,
somewhere,
between the day's rising orb,
the Lady Luck of
a woman's heat,
the grand canyoned
Pachelbel cannon,
the Bach adagios
soulful sweet,
the answers could begin,
the endings,
perhaps can find
you and show
the restart signs positively
new directional


yet obedient to the old nether-wisdom
of these inanimate intimates,
(that are classified now as
sourpusses &  ex-best friends),
off to
back-to-bed,
self-dispatched,
arriving amidst the departing darkness,
being infiltrated by new day
dawning light suffusions,
with coffee armed,
pillows plumped,
all done with
church mouse quietude,
lest I wake the
party of the second part

into bed returns
the prodigal son,

uh-oh,

the poem ***** stiffens

cannot be refused,
it offers me
this challenged relief and a challenged
pleasure:

Subtext

commandeering and commanding:

dispense what you cannot say,
but wish for all to understand,
teach them how to write the literary
subtext
of one man's life


his fantasies *******,
thoughts of world-over trips
upon which his poems trip,
thinking thoughts
of meeting you
first time and fittingly,
reunions of longtime knowing
mutual souls, the lovely perfection
of the guarantee of
better days past
and better yet,
of better days
yet to come,
of first embraces,
longingly overdue,
but happily
familial familiar
even upon initial conception

motioned potions notions
of what he would do
when that lottery ticket
comes true,
seeing hazy
visions of loined, coined children babes naves
as someday adults,
from a future past of
a collection of visions
happily well imagined

now in bed,
dancing (quietly) to a Strauss waltz,
all his sisyphean tasks unmasked,
and peace in his heart,
returning to supreme reign,
re-gifting it all forward,
in a subtext contextually
poem within herein

the coffee now cooled,
the mental dispensary instead,
has issued
a scrip
prescribed and commissioned

write yourself,
one poem,
overly long and rambling,
as always,
(knowingly he smiles at his own critique)
this poem
to be issued
from his ******-brain,
amniotic-bathed,
anointed and by appointment
to her majesties,
The Queen of Hearts
and the
Red Queen,
entitled:


Subtext

the scrip reads:
"take once a day,
life clarity should return
sooner than later,
which is to say
medically and medicinally
eventually,
which is far, far better
than never"

the meds imbibed
the coffee reheated,
and while
waiting for its effects,
the subtext of a man
who drinks drams
of lives of poetry
for all
sees his future dreams
and happily awaits
their completed execution
Vernarth leaves and articulates in them to guide and accompany them with this imperishable itinerary, coming from the undivided becoming that was normalized with its evident parapsychology, creating certain polycellular substances in the accentuated multi placebo effect by injecting them with clinical blindness, to then reactivate them in the ejido of Bethany as a path of going and death, back and Life, with whom they revived from the anginal dizziness, that even some faltered when they saw Bethany full of Borricos who led them with the allegory as if the real world had just been made in a variety of towards a speculative problem and its limitations. Vernarth could glimpse with his glances certain affected areas of some who were with the entourage, essentially in the wear of their pancreas, hormones that were launched with radiant flashes of celestial suns, with extracts of muscles varying with irradiation in super stocks, inhibiting radioactive parts of Cinnabar that finally brought them all together when the phase of Cinnabar that was deployed as an aid to the cutting of the heads Speleothemes or Speleotomies, becoming radioactive by generating concentration in large eminences of snatched electrons, in order to begin to open the layers of the bathyal zone at four thousand meters of depth without light, up to the Neritic where large cemeteries with whale mammary arteries flowed back, and together with toxins from sea snakes. The hypnosis that Vernarth exercised towards all those who absorbed aspiring to have enough dynamics, and generate prayers of all kinds for when they reached the Metelmi tunnel of the Profitis Ilias. With the management of the visualizations of her emotions, meditation and prayers were rewound after a neat trajectory of wealth and well-being Venusiana.

The power of their unified minds has been successfully adhered to for hundreds of years since they were fostered. From the first hypnotic third with the mesmerism of the chiroptical, rather of the four species of Vlad, Fruit Chiroptera, Vampire, Indiana, Egyptian, which would mainly be the carriers of fertilization of the lands of Patmos, and their pollination together with the Lepidoptera, also gave them the magnetism in this way:

Says Vlad Strigoi: “Eventually it suggested to me from the hypnotic trance that led us to varieties of suggestion in the dermis, which it branded us as suggestive ectodermal. Under the keys of the nervous system if I have to have a conscience or exquisite wisdom for all the blisters that in frugality it is convenient for my species of chiropterans to shelter them, and not my human comrades. So I got over the death of my older brother, and then I succeeded him, where I went some time to moan him on the Danube. I was exiled in Edirne, and from there in my second reign, I went to Wallachia, many episodes happened and early in the morning I was visited by the rest of the Boyars' bats, fleeing from themselves, there were thousands and thousands I had to take care of from them. Later I went to Valdaine, Chauvet. Welcoming me to Wonthelimar so that one day we would regain the true kingdom of manumission in the darkness of Wallachia with my monastic brother Vlad Calugarul "

The blisters of thousands of Vlad's Chiroptera burst when he referred to his brother Calugarul, beginning to fall from the upper angle into cheesy leagues of flying animals, who wanted to control the pain of man, all protected by psychic mental waves emancipated from the presumptuous angle of Vernarth, and of the laziness of his spasms, and migraines that we're frightened of some by the entrails of the physiology of the platform. Upon reaching five hundred years, there were four hundred left to approach the quantum borders that the Souls of Helleniká transferred to them, the entire timeline was covered with a tunic that was moistened by turbulent water that appeared from overseas, producing dramatic conventional meteorologies, where The line of sight of the horizon lay three times where it was, to indicate that the humid plain of the tunic was in concert with the setting Sun. From this regulation plan, the prime time was counterpoint, for a link of half an hour before approaching midnight, before reaching the Profitis Ilias, specifically the Metelmi Tunnel in the Raedus Codex. Many species were unable to tolerate the immunity of such an event as they emerged to the surface and began to collect cells that revived engulfed in themselves, to later become impregnated with Wonthelimar's entourage and then predisposed to enter the geological cavity.

The collectivity of time was dissipated, all the nature that was of a coherent past was beginning to visualize itself towards a state of immunity mechanism, due to the trances that deprived it of hope of living in a new beginning before reaching Patmos. From Agios Andreas, expulsions of malignancies that were expressed with the Apsidas Manes were still felt, being very well alternated by Marie des Vallées who deconcentrated conventions and individualities towards the lacerated that still did not form outgrowths on their bodies removed from Spinalonga, while she continued as always In its most absolute darkness and exile, only portraits were enough to project itself on a populated island, which would be rescued from involuntary excretions and depopulation, being a human settlement. More than a hundred experiments were missing to scale the island to a superiority that was far from a medical shelter site, which excludes it from knowledge of prevalent and invalidated concepts of a miraculous life that was beginning to be written in Agios Andreas. The power of Faith self-healed in the bodies that had yet to be awarded the healing intentions of collective minds that flowed among all, when they were guided by the Saint of Normandy after having clear evidence and for how long they would be on this islet, for also rejoin the investiture of the Himation of Vernarth in the Áullos Kósmos, indemnifying the intervals of the Vas Auric and the Cinnabar. All prayed inclined towards a transformation of the permutations that inspired a quantum healing, that moved the waves of the seas in unison with their prayers, that creating a quantum healing atmosphere in all channels, and for all their atoned intentions. Telepathy apprehended all their emotions, prevailing the vital energy that contemporary in the prayers of the new earth field that greeted them became at their astonished feet.

The hospitality of Agios Andreas had Theus and Vikentios defined to be with her, to have total compassion with the Saint and to recover their ancestors with a focus of energy that were invaded by hyper healings similar to an ultrasound, which emanated from the hands of the Santa, for each of the individuals who remained to be definitively healed and then redistribute them in the new spheres of execrations, which hung from the indigenous Manes on the island, which delimited the improvement of many human beings who lived long periods here, overcoming dimorphisms in the reproductive organs of ancient cavemen, with leprosy in the ***** of their ******, but the testimony of dimorphism motor skills will lead to species totally free of this scourge of the ***** bacillus, to perfectly synchronize a field of healing energy, from the magical thought of the Saint who assisted them permanently, to prepare themselves in the new regions before they had what to make the last decision to integrate in Patmos. The membranes of the nuclei of the sun that healed them and reconvened themselves from the molecules of an energized level of matter celestially congruent, with the sensitivity of the affected organs, until some cells imprisoned in the cells of lost morbidity, hypnosis was reinstituted bilocate de Vernarth who assisted them from his eclectic Portal before superior hypnosis that led them to mutate their bodies into astonishing birds, which were retransformed with the Birds of the Stymphalus.
Stymphalus  Birds
RottenPeach Nov 2013
Anticipation, say it s-l-o-w-l-y
Allow it to linger, feel it wholly
Place your heart upon your hand
Or the other way around
Hand over heart
Feel, hear, see your flesh pound
Rhythmic *chaos
contracting inside
Expectations building, rising
Higher and higher (along with anxiety levels)
Anticipation is a rude guest
Overstays his welcome, always outstandingly overdressed
Beckons silly *fantasies
to sit next to him on the couch
Leaves drops of contemplation on the carpet
Broken hearts, shattered expectations
Or best case scenario, a dream come true
Beautiful visualizations of contentment
The joy of fulfilled hopes
No sensation equals receiving
All the ideas you dare to believe
Can a cranium explode from the pressure of a hundred- thousand untamed thoughts?
The agony of uncertainty
Being in the pitch dark
Only speculations
No actualities
Merely the human **imagination
Waters of Visualizations flow through my soul
Slumbering, peacefully, winds of energies from afar
The call and whisk me away
To those astral planes allowing us to walk
and travel without tolls. without limitations.
As I touched your hands and I looked into your eyes
Your face appeared that it was not of this Earth
It was Human in looks and her beauty was quite breathtaking
She spoke in a language which seemed as if it were from ancient times.
Beautiful sounding words.
At first, my brain could not comprehend the messages that she was trying to convey to me
After holding her right hand, a glow, to my temple
A short while later...in talk and in understandings of each other
We had no limitations and were free.
She spoke of the lack of appreciation
For the gifts of being placed in a new and beautiful world
Underappreciating the intelligence that "our family" was given
However, it had not dared to even tap within the childlike entry into such logic and learning.
How she reached out to me as I had been one of the few who tried to reach above this limits in which our family had been proud to watch me frow and overstep
I realized then.. we were not of this Earth.
We were a race from beyond the stars and were, to the openness to see such, were unwilling.
After strolling for what appeared to be many hours
It, was indeed many years on our real planet, which she spoke the name of "Xinix"
"Remain off course and watch the downfall of your world and extended family through useless wars and power greed. Refuse to see our true native tongue..not in words..but in telekinetic Communual Speech of Connected Minds."
"Spread the word. You have the brain knowledge I shared and the willingness to see our second planet grow. We shall always be in touch. Even past the measurement of stars...Through our Living Souls...
I know, Xenopus (your Xinic Race Name. To slow down or stop this infinite, childlike  insanity...or be the rescued while those about you destroy their own existence."
"I'll be looking after you."
The winds threw me back into my "ordinary and Logical World.."
This time, I "knew such travels were not of a dream"
As looking at my chest in the mirror - I saw the glowing blue heart beating from inside of me...
My true Family crest of one who Shall Help Teach the world. To those who would be able to understand and listen.
So I might be able to save, much more of our family, to reach the joining of a peaceful and loving race, true blue.
I had a weird Astral Travel (dream state). After awaking from this dream, I decided to share, such a miraculous message from it, with you - my loyal readers.
gen Mar 2021
the ones that constantly play on my mind,
now etched inside his head
he'd make you feel profound things
converting a blank page into a room full of thoughts and visualizations
waiting to be filled with intention
by the way his fingertips graze over canvas
strokes, hues, and lines
every exquisite detail
the lead scraping across the paper
shadows that protrude the overall portrait
contemplating to contrast the grays
forming vivid illustrations no one would ever envision
the paper comes to life before my eyes
it's like he never had to use his own hands
to touch each & every part of me
i only see him in monochrome
but he penetrates me with all kinds of hues

i hope he realizes that he himself, is art. my art.
4 ya
amrutha Dec 2014
The cinematography, the imagery,
Visualizations, animation,
Those slow takes as the rain falls over the window
Behind which a girl rests her head
Looking out with dreamy eyes
Eyes, holding watery stories of a beautiful past

The door slams shut and
Out she comes
With winged feet and summer skin
Living in her head, she walks down by
Looks up above and smiles at the sky
She closes her eyes and the camera it shoots
How the sunshine falls on her eyelashes
Down, a perfect zoom in
Onto her lips hazed with tiny particles of light air

He blindfolds her eyes
Walks her gently all the way
The coldness increases and the noise reduces
More
He takes his hands off her eyes
And up she stares
with lips apart and stunned feet
At the gazillion stars chilled and silver
Against a black night
He smiles
covering her up from behind
with warm hands.

The rest of the night.
There are days
When I walk out of the studio,
Disappointed with my performance,
Because today fear, not dance,
Made me finish the steps on time.
I can't mug up steps at the flick of a finger, you see.
I admit I have been lazy about self-practice.
I bet no one dances as beautifully
As I do in my visualizations
And some days I do amaze myself
As I perform the routine.
But when fear cripples me,
Paralyses my arms and limbs,
I wince at the instructor's polite rebuke
I knew it was coming.

The song is replayed,
Batchmates cheer
I wake up
My passion frees me
As I leap into the routine with a
5! 6!, and 5, 6, 7 AND. . . !!
P.S  And you thought your fears never feared you?
Poetic T Aug 2016
My smile is a collapsed lung of fake-ness
that I breath harder every lingering moment
of my existence.  Mutilating my cogitation
seeing the world in blurs of repetition.

I'm awoken by the pain of visualizations that
will not heed my alone time. But follow me
to that place that should be of silence. Instead
I scream in disillusion, as darkness was my escape.

There words are like raindrops of acid, and my
forest of thoughts wither upon the constant
onslaught of their needing to belittle me in the
presence of others. My branches fall frail to my side.

Others in shame, not a word spoken. No breeze to
hinder the hurricane of illusions that repeatedly
impact on my subconscious place. I'm silent like
a tomb of sorrows, I bury myself inward and deep.

I made my first mistake today, as they like a well
oiled clock, blood hound hunters of my scent find me.
In a moment I heed to my anger and clench my fist,
and then I'm blooded on the floor by there disbelief.

What is life? a moment of breathes that heed in our
existence. Is that what this is called? I collect tears in
threads of and bind them. This is my tears of pain
that I now hang from, pity me now as I only hear silence.
A write about bullying
Poetic T Feb 2017
They whisper incoherent visualizations upon yourself;
clinging upon you like spider webs, viscous  and transparent.

A wanting of cleanliness urges you to look away from
the apparent vocalization that is perceived with their
                         glaring pockets of empty sight...

*"A look speaks a volume of intentions,
Life is
Just as I'd
Declared it
In my scribblings.
[It is] precise to the extent
Of the [now] most appealing and repulsive
Contours and intricacies,
Some overwrought with older etchings,
Made darker by attempts
At rubbing them out-
Of where, pray?
[The eternal itch of perfecting the complete, you see.]
I'd dropped them
Into a box called time
Shuffled into compartments
Of past, present and future.


We mistake dreams for reality.
And then
Do you mistake imagination for imagination nowadays?
In your sleepwa(l)king consciousnes(t)?


The weaved hollow of Empiricism,
The added undulations of space and duration.
Somewhere, one's interpretations
Sewed into another's visualizations
Vis-a-vis
The maze you charted for yourself
To be/get lost
Where all that has existed yet,
Is the reality of the imaginary.
Knowing there would arrive a juncture
When you would be breathing
Into a kaleidoscope of chaos
Waiting to wade into patterned perfection,
Eventually, when; Alas!
You fell for time, again, time and again!
And shifted to the infested realm
Of hackneyed manifestations.

As the universe thrusts that sheet of paper
On to the pen in my hand,
In my quest to trace and quench
The voices sketched somewhere
In the white void of the sheet,
As I pen verses of salt & pepper.
P.S. Reality gets as real as the illusions we create. Reality is a vulnerable entity that never existed. Imagination is mistaken for unreality, were that a legit term, to explain the context better.
“Where do you write? Is Ambiance Important? Do you have rituals or habits when you write?” My reply to this question is below.

Most of my writing is done in my den. In terms of “ambiance,” The space that I write in doesn’t have a lot of that, the ambience comes from within I suppose. The space that we create in is not so much that of the physical as it is of the spiritual, The room I write in has very little to do with it except that it houses my keyboard and printer. The “Room” is just another tool.

The so called ambiance comes to me in the form of my memory, of my visualizations of life, or the questions that I have regarding it. To rely in the physical space that one finds themselves in, to depend on that to create, or write what have you, I think is a dangerous crutch to lean on.

It is the mind set of the craftsperson, the poet, the artist the musician, to find the respite that lies within us all. It is those recollections, that creativity, that inner room where the true ambiance lies within our imaginations, a physical room really has nothing to do with it.

In terms of rituals, I would say that when I find a subject that sparks poetic creativity; I simply close my eyes and place my self in the scene, I attempt to use all my senses in bringing that space to life in my mind, the imagined smells and sounds, the colors, and textures… When I feel that I have absorbed those elements, I then begin the writing process. It is within the power of each of us to visualize our poetic worlds. Poetry for me is much more than meter and rhyme, it is much greater than stanza and verse. Poetry is the culmination of lives’ lived, lives’ remembered.

Poetry is the dream of higher possibilities; it is the culmination of the poet’s power to move individuals to inspiration. In doing so, the space that we create in makes little difference however, the space within us that allows us to share our gifts with the world is the best place to be, the grandest of rooms where creativity and caring abound.
Where do you write? does the space work to inspire you?
What are the inspirations that convey your pen and ink.
share them with all of us to get a better idea of how the writer writes
Emotional Man Dec 2018
Dreams.... I can't remember the last time I had a vivid dream.
As I truly feel that I'm not in understanding with myself.
Maybe I should pull out my brain, set it on fire and brand myself with the thoughts inside....clashing lines...and visions of skies, broadcasted using my mad thoughts as a mental projector.
I feel as if I'm in the wrong sector, as passer my hecklors are causing me more problems then my spider injectors.

How does one truly come to know themselves, and have those vivid thoughts, and vivid dreams, where they can imagine  anything up and get stuck in there own time machine.

How does one know themselves so well that they can feel the pushing and pulling of positive and negative energies.

How does one know themselves so well that they know they were blessed by being the different seed but I know I have to struggle now for the future generation that's inside of me.

Dreams are like one in a million, but sometimes I get bits and pieces of an important image, as we will always remember the 5th of November, the gun powder, treason and plot.
For I too will have a vengeance for myself...A vendetta that's never forgot, because to truly understand myself I have to search my mind, my soul, and body.
And surely you don't expect to grow mentally, physically and emotionally without a fight.
To truly grow I have to push past points of my comfort zone, and experience uncomfortable and radical situations, with no expectations of thoughts and patterns, no blank lines and visualizations, because I'll get mad at myself and make my own accusations.

As I try and understand myself more and more it frustrates me because I understand other people more than myself, consequently the rules are broken and in my mind I'm nearly floating....washed out like a flash flood, my thoughts actions, and words are over flowing, like a water sprout that was casted over the ocean.

As my would be dreams set sail on an empty horizon, like my thoughts crash like soundless waves on beach fronts.
I'm waiting to hear over whelming thoughts and ideas roar like lions fighting over who will be thought of first.

I have to train my brain to think with my spiritual mind.
To know who you are spiritually defines a person mentally, and depending upon how your looking in the mirror reflects on the person physically.

I'm indecisive like two babies playing tug o war.
I don't know how much longer I can be for sure, as long as I feel the timing of my soul mind and body align once more.
I hope I don't become depressed and mentally shut the door, before my true awakening, so I can walk the path to be spiritually woke, but I hope I don't consume so much Information and spiritually choke.

-Emotional Man
Poetic T May 2018
Directions swerve from visualizations of
reflections that are kept
                                          within the above.

                Dismay verses  acute desperation,
stray reflections deflect
                                          systematic dictation.

Where all shards of what lingers before us,
pair unto parts that collect for us to
                                                               discuss.  


But eventually  they show true form,
               cut deeply they delegate in uniform.
internal rhyme, stretch your thoughts to new avenues took me ages :)
elle jaxsun Jul 2022
My consciousness has been elusive—
Most thoughts are intrusive.
Subconscious stays refusive.
I breathe in and eat up nature,
hoping it’ll be my savior—
Turn all my bad memories into
Distorted visualizations and vapors.
The politics after the remnants in the ragged serpents of Aerse flowed through the Cefiso, by way of a section of linking of clear and effulgence before an evident flash that enveloped him of being a cardinal priest of bucolic policies of all the nearby Athenian regions, towards vertiginous regressive parapsychology, like flashback Elusino or Anadromí sto Parelthón Eleusia, where the visualizations between Aerse and Lochnith, happen by omniscient geopolitical induction of biofeedback that re-agency the inclinations of both, for the purpose of their geomorphological foundation and for the purpose of instituting them as evocation backbones of millennia, providing feedback and settling on prophecies from the 8th century bC, stop of the ends and interprocess of eternality of the incognito mystery that began to be clarified with the reinvented personality of Aerse in amendment of Life and Expiration experienced with Lochnith in the month of Boedromión, fleeing from a federated Re-Polis that would unify dimensionality of substance and sacred space Eleusinian with Lochnith nascent warmongering for the purpose of recruiting in the Hexagonal Primogeniture, for assistance and indissoluble ephemeris of edification and hegemony of the Megaron in Patmos. This thanks to the ragged serpents, but nesting hopes of gold in the nests that give priority to the dimensionalities of peers, which will be consolidated as a reality of rite and E-cloud flashback space, for the convenience of retro-future parapsychological memory, In economy of two blocks of resignation of the Sacred Space repealed, but in geomorphological consensus, for Military command jambs towards Vernarth, as a forged pulsing ***** of the sacred cult, in the mysterious nature and territorial domesticity to come from Aerse, for the purposes of the Agoras re-nucleating the metaphysical messengers that reinstitute the re-polis; but in a field of worship of E-Cloud, in civic and cyber-organic action, for those who virtually recognize the Ablution in the multidimensional of hands calling the unknown, but with ardent passion to receive him even while guarding against further vibrational mutations with the Faskéloma or exasperation of hands that move the indigo in occasional sub-vibrations, in the tendency of a parity of the Sacred Space of Gethsemane, in disaster of passing the aqueous levels of the Cephysus, in ordinal of presumptive of unreal and sub-unreal worlds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hypnosis of death and purgation for those who require a convoy of conscience continues to be a tiny space that physically transports and reverts to minimums that are neutralized in foreign bodies and foundlings as well, from a corporal depositary aedicule that is not his or the owner that He claims it (Vg aedicule of Joseph of Arimathea). The voices of people officiating the Eleusinian ritual were heard far beyond those who could merely hear them in memorable spaced therapies and recorded in interspersed layers of electro-acoustic sounds of the complex frequency serial of alarming regenerative life, in a moving celestial body. Continuous. Everything is transfused in the meditation of curves that revive in those who promote the perfection of marigolds, like buttercups that dress the clothes of Canephore like Aerse, but of psychic and ephemeral latent of the psychoactive psychic and ******-spiritual alchemical in ethereal entities that become more alchemical in unknown molecules.
Gleam  of Lochnith  III
Rayvn St Claire Jul 2017
He pledged to woefully accept
The broken lullabies
That cradled his stone heart and
Locked itself deep within his soul.

The vow he heat pressed straight into his mind
Had left a scar wounding the very depths of his madness.
He swore to the heavens to ignore
Such sensitivities for the sake of another light.

Yet, his senses scream for some sort of release.
Caresses.
Essences.
Savoring.
Listening.
Visualizations.­

The desperation grew immensely like that of a saint
Who hath willing succumbed to ideals of sinning
And nightly creatures pieced his demons back together.
As they added weight to his already blood stained wasteland

I begin to wonder...
Who is he now?
I am merely the vessel of what use to be.
Unless, of course that man...
Is the one I see in the mirror.

Nothing but a silent reminiscence of what was...
Human.

- Rayvn St. Claire
This is my first poem on here. Thanks for reading. - Rayvn "Ray"
Ken Pepiton Feb 15
-------- tea and Sisyphus

Bruno paused, at his interface
with the printable word form,

he paused thinking in writing
"this is so important, I must underline it."

I thought it, of first importance.

The concept of all fruits freely eaten from,
but one, knowledge, right of all sorts,
all species fruit, branch, root and leaf,
all intervvining chthonic molds to make soil,

goodgottamight jus' gimme a blackland farm.
let ol' pharoah done be drownded
goodgottamighty , oh yah,
jus' gimme a blackland farm.

Science, long now, sudden
eruptions of just too much to think about,

like the size of the Earth in his hands,
relative to the post JWST visualizations we share,

bring it in, too wide, ballein, throw out a thought,
an Earth baseball sized, no problema,
in your hand, your mind hand, your typist hand,
keyboarding second nature, like a callous
on the *******
of a scribes writer hand.

Often offered up as proof, see this finger,
this proves I wrote the whole pile crushed,
in the shipping and storage of Ashurbanipal's
collection of books, which Solomon told him,
when they were swapping wives and concubines,
was a vanity and a vexation of the spirit,

But this calloused finger, the mused mind reminds,
this finger proves I came through history,
I did not make history.
I remind myself one reader is plenty, keep things rolling up hill,
get to the top. Drop it, watch it roll, meander on down, at a peasant's pace.
In a lost paradise where the sea shrinks with feminine conscience, compassionate flashes are ratified in each groove and I calculate footage, this previous present attracts the magnanimous representation of the lightning emission of its speech representing itself where the queen judges the king Consummatum Est, with little difference from culinary art and its very dense genre. Here is the carious aspect of the bluish faskéloma or exasperating of the paws that move the occasional ones in sub-vibrations softening in the shiny mark of the sessile columns in consistency of its weak receptive propagation and masculine science, lacking what prospers with moist regulars of flashes that are cooling from their imbibition. With thousandths of his enchanted parasitizing and prior ego I wonder afterwards not far from a Para-Celestial and sacrilegious lore of Lochnith; Who, what and where would have been able to support such or such, rising on the beams and girders that make a whole for an inaccurate Menthe, going to the arcane of the seventh external love with clear magenta lights, on rounded ultraviolet reliefs, here is where everything lulls from the adverb Eleusis, seething with a consonant flight that suffocates in spite of a Pseudo Vernarthian, where it will go without any exception disrupting the courses of hesitation, leaving no more the divine portent and going back to the loaded Cibatus or barley in northwests that flatten ultra winter, mowed down to its glacial bluish water discharge in unequal thickening of fast secrets with thirds of vox with bordering called in pair of trios, and symbolic of a reborn flashed subsoil of a lifetime swollen in its low course and ministerial occultation that isolates itself on Patmos. The skies were beaten where nothing germinates from dreams waiting for thousands of those like me with acute senses of the Anthesterion, or of March taking me towards an enigma not posed even if it is not clarified yet not resigning from love or smelling in the singular uni-lunar desolate with venerable fulminations and inquinas of the branch of the bakchoi, which was whistled by an Aulós that was remade generic when restarting fasting from a day rebuked and repaid in the emaciated Cibatus. Such light grasses were polarizing prohijadas when recovering from resounding beginnings of the rhizomatous aromatic nuance, and from super life machined from the metallic oscillation of the fires and rites ruined in the aromatic arthrophagous of Lochnith, nauseating at night in flowing enigma and gramineous rictus, intermingling while he longed for the ritual and his graceful plumes in feasts that honored his Canephores transferring mead towards the bakchoi psychic adept revealing himself from the masculine to the feminine in aqueous positive bed and supra negative redemption, which was fading into sharp matter attended while the world was created that they would live with more than forty stratagems, seeing themselves praised before their eminent Truth. Myself…being its own tyranny…, which erects whoever classifies it sacramental, and notices the squalid lack of control of its barbarism flash when I still pursue the darkness of my purge that is falling even without finding where to do it, falling however from its end and of guilty thunderous glances..., what more public decree do I wish, for more rituals that you have close to you when feeling sharp minorities of its aftertaste although in double life and night your memory continues to spy on whoever denatures you from the paganism of Lochnith, more than a proselyte , plus that a lien conceived in dethroned galleys of homeland and fusca haze. Meanwhile, quantities of Omphalos from the ego micro center are distancing themselves from mine, my faded lost throne hallucinates lost knowing that it is a probable sculpted flash subject to the gleaning of the Cibatus in fraction of the cereal ritual, and of sanctified illumination with tableares that have to dwell all the times that they revive from the vivid purple red, and from the debtor clairvoyant mystery sky that is reviving in the revealed luminescence that throws it in ornate nickels and acidic rattles at midnight falling on a positive particle devoid of yours returning to mine, and preparing for the flashing praise that pigeonholes him from his crippled fallacious and previous theory suggested after favors by not being reconverted. Lochnith capitulate capitulation suffers from glare towards her beloved, placing his phalanges on circular and angular waves on the virtual milky river of Eleusis caressing her face and glare from her. “I, Lochnith, was on the cliff with my Canephor Aerse, near his Athenian paternal landlord, I was going to say goodbye to myself and carelessness, not being able to see myself in the reflection of the water separated from my ego, knowing that Aerse would not choose me, much less to my abandoned superior.

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

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

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

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

Revelations of the mental-material, made reluctance and support of the estrangement of inviolate perceptions, precognitions, telepathies and premonition, which debuted in this intrepid adventure intuiting in perpetuity with the sensory corridors and interferences of a reality of body in an explosive world incontestable. Lochnith, was already in possession of a hypnotic mental reincarnation formula in the form of neuroscience vessels close to scarecrows of expiration, allocating the subsequent locks of an enlightened decency of the ethereal sleepy baggage and the oracular review. The more we experience the laws that explain his prodigies, the more our perspective of media and complete fiction will increase in something that begins to be typical of the laurel of a true slowed-down ******-kinetic process. Within the curvature and the dim light that remained in the Lochtian days, normality returned to them after this long epitome in the parapsychological biosphere, and the intriguing contemplation and even mischievous tenuity of idea that can die suddenly, after self-incubate in the intangible coexisting passage and medication rupture of lived art with alien morbid beings. For a character archetype, it is only known that reaping is consuming capital from the disruption of a non-profit loss and its incontrovertible paranormal, which is paranormal and parapsychological from the plane of posterity of life, which will be an act of peaceful coexistence in playful spirits, compensating for seclusion in the vaults of an involutionary dramatic past, if its material or monad (spiritual) is not dissected in the cosmic train of perception of unfolding, and of the concept of purging energy that goes out of its way in its seventh heaven. The hypnosis of death and purgation to whoever requires it in the convoy of their conscience continues to be a tiny unruly space that transports us physically, reverting to minimums that are neutralized in alien foundlings. From an aedicule depository to an empty body that is neither independent nor from the lord who claims it (V.g. aedicule of José de Arimatea). The impersonal voices that officiated at the ritual of Eleusis were heard far beyond those who could hear them merely with memorable spaced therapies, recording themselves in interspersed layers of sounds and imprecise electroacoustics in the serial of an alarming complex frequency of the regenerative stumble in an organism of Continuous movement. Everything spreads in bends of abstraction that revives those who promote the perfection of marigolds like buttercups that they wear in the clothing of the Canephores like Aerse, but soulful and latent ephemeral of the ethereal alchemical entitative of ignored molecules. Lochnith says: “My submission heals, it no longer maintains being far from who represents it and where it comes from, I know that its remains in me do not reason, clarifying more my journey towards the crown and vilifications of a nascent humanity that mourns me, and that does not recognizes by rebelling in my desires to attract him"
the sky closes in vermilion digression and you inquire that they should answer for the silence of confusion in the parapsychological aqueducts of Athens with Patmos. The organization of the Sacred Space starts with the bizarre totemic quantum by sacred paths, Megarons, fictitious hunting places, double surrounding lunar ring, curves of virtual walls, Propylaea to embrace the Vernarthian enigma and finally the Telesterion that received Vernarth with a naked torso that perched in front of Aerse and Lochnith, looking at them towards the futuristic survival with five digits in a quarter of the waning of his right hand containing the small coat of Betelgeuse and the Pleiades in inklings of the umpteenth apocalyptic Megaron of Patmos. Scrupulosity as an Electro-Eleusian placebo effect, went alone, dismissing itself in the singular of a Templar niche and towards a Megaró-Omega Telesterion for catechized who endowed themselves with super-resident halos and litters of priesthoods that fled in terror from the Aerse-Lochnith fusion, prior to each rudeness and their contours swearing eternal exaltation and idealism, to be reconverted into individuals saved and votive to love each other with third parties, escaping from small frames that still did not hold up from the ecumenical mess.
Lochnith Eleusis Quantum
inhumanity Oct 2015
I got my eyes on you
visualizations of us expressing love in an empty field
Your boundless beauty, your perfect body
Your whole being sets my soul on fire
Every inch of your body is what I desire
You look even more mesmerizing from your bedroom window
it pains me to see you with another
I don’t know what it is about you, you got me feeling feelings i've never even felt before
but when you broke my heart
It made me want you even more
You never notice me when I’m outside your house
I’m too shy to even knock on the door
But until I find the courage to talk to you again,
I’ll be right here, looking through your window
it's a metaphor
I can't figure out
if I'm supposed to be
an oddball Eros-laced
poetic artist of sorts

this revolutionary
evolution redesigner
with wake-the-****-up
typographic punches

or a sower of seedlings
via silly rhymes scheming
with wacked-out visualizations
for story-time imaginations
to mold future generations

ideally,
I want to do all three...

praying for the mind
time and energy
to manifest all
I can
Be

(including
rocking the ****
outta this day job
that's molding me
into a better model
who knows how to float
merrily upon her dreams
obsoleting false me)

*happythankUmoreplease
Rissa Lav May 2018
It’s the mornings you wake up and the heaviness of your eyes are nothing compared to the heaviness in your chest. It’s the moments throughout the day you’re surrounded by all that love and adore you and you are still drowning in the loneliness. It’s the nights you lie awake wired with a megaphone prompter set to the highest volume in your skull repeating all of those thoughts you swore you’d never say aloud. It’s the seconds, the minutes, the hours, days, weeks, months that you feel as if you feel nothing in attempt to feel everything and you’re trying so hard to get to the surface of land while you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean, too heavy to swim. You see where you want to be and as you move every joint in your body, you’re going nowhere but down. Down. Down. Down to the bottom of your heart, down to the bottom of your stomach, to the bottom of your toes. The fuzzy feeling of a television on the fritz the black and white static going in and out, the blurry vision of nothing while all is in front of you and yet you are still sinking, drowning like the fish that can’t swim, you’re still watching that grayscaled fuzz and listening to the muffled up noises on the television that you can’t clearly make out while the remote is in your hands. That’s the worst part about it. That’s the ugly truth of it all. That our struggle, while it entails pain and chaos, we have the controls to change them. Our stories are complex. Maybe we can’t change the characters or the rising actions. It may be possible that the ****** is our of our control. We can’t do anything about how we got in the middle of the ocean, or how we turned the broken channel on, But within the falling action of it all, we can get ahold of it. We can grasp at it, tug on it, and we can morph it into our life jacket. We can build it into our own remote controler, we can change the perception of it all. The plot twists, the cliffhangers, those are what we can encompass and embrace, what we ourselves control and can incorporate to change the story. It is set in our mind’s eye how we perceive and annotate a story or poem just as it is set in our mind’s eye how we perceive and annotate our own story. Because in the end of it all, it comes down to what we are doing about it. Are we the ones putting rocks in our clothes so rather than our floating, we proceed to the very depths of suffocation? Are we the ones that pressed the volume button on the remote in order for the static to grow higher and higher to the point of deafness? As you reflect on your story, are you reading your metaphors right, are you interpreting the imagery and creative visualizations in a way that shows beauty within the ugly, are you appreciating the art of similes and detail that you were able to create throughout whatever your story entails? Or are you so engulfed in your ineptitude to look at the whole picture as just that, with no interpretation of it all? You only read your monologues rather than the dialogues within. You sparknoting your life. Have you ever taken an exam after sparknoting a book and it’s only when you have the lines of the paper in front of you that you realize that you know nothing? That’s what you’re doing when you only dwell on the obvious of your life. You’re not searching within to fill the plot holes and answering questions that are worth answering. Take advantage of syntax. The descriptions of the water, how cold it may feel emotionally and physically or why you can’t seem to turn the channel of your television when it’s only placing you in a realm of distress. You see what everyone sees, you know what everyone knows without ever understanding. It’s the words in between that tell a reader what to feel and why you feel that way. You’re cheating yourself out of individuality and the acceptance of a resolution worthy of acceptance. So as you write the rest of your story, write it in a way that will make you content with the ending. Give yourself an ending that you are satisfied with, that makes it easy to close the book and start on to the new one- because remember, you are not the only one reading it. Be proud of your story. Give your character the lifejacket. Give yourself the life jacket.
Michael T Chase Mar 2021
...is like accounting.
Is more abstracting of the brain than calculus.
What's missing from it are the visualizations of what is being mentioned.
Like working with a space in the mind that can only make one or two changes at a time - giving logic but not seeing the big picture.
Unless the big picture is really only those one or two changes in the symbology and equalities.
But these only tell relations of 1-2 changes connecting and spreading like a web.
Ryan Sep 2021
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~      ­             
              
rainy days pave gateways
intertwining spirit, body, and mind

those were exactly the thoughts running through Caroline's head, as her half-empty boba cup provided support between the cold, metal fencing and her weary right temple. she pondered if this incessant rain would cease, and the chrysanthemums that grew behind the fence concurred.

she had been exploring the realm of visualization in weeks past. visualizing getting out of bed in the morning, getting chores done, and visualizing social situations before they occur. she was using it as a technique to be more productive and to ease her social anxiety. it had proven effective for her.

sick of all the rain, she started visualizing. her imagination fluttered with thoughts of clouds parting ways, of the brilliant sun beating down, heating up the fencing, and creating shadows which sprung to life the now-dancing chrysanthemums. she pictured hopping onto the fence and screaming joyously to the world, overcome profoundly by newfound sunshine.

while deep in her visualization, she felt a tinge near her heart. the same spot where she experiences the buildup of her most powerful feelings: rage, despair, and pure unbridled ecstasy. only this feeling was new, and she knew something big was brewing. she felt an incredible warmth expanding from her chest outwards.

Caroline slowly opened her eyes. her mind was just as clear as the sky. in utter awe, she wanted to scream and shout. to tell all her friends that the sun was out.

it was through those powerful visualizations
where she made her staggering realization

"everything in reality is all but fake
nothing is real except for what you make"

and she carried on with her day
kudos to you for reading all of this garbage
Carson Jul 2020
Nada Picong Corrections
By
Carson OTP Alexander
Insults, Jokes meant @ getting change
Doesnt always work in this age again,
What our foreparents did
& Achieved with us 2 believe
Now lies a memento in distant memories,
As in todays diverse situations,
Negative verbal selections
Are Illusions,
2 enhance Positive Visualizations
Achievements
Encourage Best Best selections
Now Dawns D Age
Of
Nada 2 Picong Corrections!
With eyes closed,
particularly after never
mine lips ne'er touching drink
I experience replete surreal visualizations

vividly pronounced heightened, augmented
mental journey virtual realistic brink
particularly the following link
https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=1ZYbU82GVz4

yours truly (i.e. me)
enters sweeping dream state,
whose (ahem this modest) great human
experienced way after hundredth wink
no mean feet recherché special effects
haint no rinky ****
trick the average kindergartener could think,
quite the contrary skeptical reader!

Impossible mission yours truly,
could never describe for dogness sake
no,... NOT even after I make
transition back into webbed
oft times trumpeted as "fake"
wide world of consciousness

mere seconds eyes of mine ache...
dumbfoundedly blink awake,
yet cerebral impact analogous
exiting hypothetical dark cave
eyes painfully adjust to light
no mutter me noggin I soberly shake

Socratic dialogue - described
even today (across swaths,
where silently occur
metaphorical tectonic Earthquake)
of college/university students far and wide
with mooch hoopla and rave
communicated, viz out fancy schmancy

rhyme nor reason courtesy
one cereal lactose intolerant flake
courtesy within Plato's Republic
(worth rereading even
non political science majors ought
to give revered literature fair shake.

'Course aye haint here to lecture
but moostly strive to enlighten
hmm... methinks most likely bore
extemporaneously spewing pablum
also aiming to appeal toward
self accomplishment less or more

before tonight April 23rd, 2020
becombs tomb morrow,
with unbeknownst notion I explore
which aspiration to craft daily poem
constitutes what endeavors apt (guaranteed)

to find thee into deep sleep
cocking mine ear to hear ye snore,
no matter bajillion miles away your
respective dwelling from mine -
now (at long last), similar to the night before,

(Christmas), I hightail out - with minor confession
where Matthew Scott Harris doth
strive to become substance of legendary folklore
(hence no need to utter vamoose)
with cheery bonjour!
AS WE ACHIEVE ALIGNMENT WITH THE HIGHER POWERS AND THE UNIVERSE WE, IN TURN HAVE DOMINION OVER OUR OWN LIVES AND BODIES.
WE ARE MASTERS THROUGH OUR WILL OVER OUR LESSER SUBATOMIC PARTICLES THAT MAKE UP OUR BEINGS.
WE CAN ATTAIN PERFECT HEALTH AND INNER PEACE VIA A DIALOGUE WITH OUR CELLS.
OUR EFFICIENCY AS CO-CREATORS IS ENDLESS AND ENCOMPASSES EVERY REALM OUR IMAGINATION CAN FATHOM.
OUR THOUGHTS, EMOTIONS, VISUALIZATIONS AND VOCAL OR WRITTEN COMMANDS ARE ALL VEHICLES ON THIS HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS.
LET’S NOT BE SWAYED BY THE EVIL FORCES AT WORK TRYING TO PREVENT US FROM BEING AND DOING WHAT WE WERE DESIGNED FOR.
Chandy Jun 19
All these thoughts pirouette
Spinning merry-go-round
With no merry to go around
How could I be happy when
We are all slaves to fixation
Sensations with no liberation
Across the nation
Taxation and stagnation
A sickness with a correlation
No navigation for our permutation
Mutated faces, all an affectation
Annihilation, assassination
Our own worlds built for encapsulation
Polarization, exaggeration
Visualizations of victimization
We sit back and lose preservation
My happiness is no obligation
Just a replication of past elation
Hollow aspirations
Built by alienation
John Prophet Sep 2022
Forms.
Infinite
ideas.
From
nothing
comes
everything.
Chemical
reactions.
Electr­ic
impulse.
Creation
generates.
Vibrations,
visualizations.
Reali­ty be.
Energy
ripples.
Full of
potential,
possibilities.
Drawn
down
from a
different
realm.
A timeless
place.
Where
ideas
reside.
Materializes.
Converted
into substance.
Function.
Birthplace
of thoughts
and
dreams.
Brought in,
manufactured.
Mechanism
of reality
formation.
Creation.
Created
from
nothing
to
everything.

— The End —