Chapter XXVII
Mashiach of Judah V part
Miracle VI - Gethsemane / Maasefa


Preface

In this chapter in particular I want to clarify the revelation of three fundamental phases of the outcome of this chapter of Judah.

a) The subsequent phase after the Stable in Bethelem (Kafersuseh) will lead to the neurochemical conformation of the energies subtracted from the visions in the stable, exclusively from the roof before the intervention of the Cherubs with their four wings, just like the Lepidoptera ( butterflies), incurring in an original messianic nexus provided with pheromone sensitivity and chemical activation in the pollinations of bumblebees, bees, and wasps, to regenerate the species of Olivo Barnea, to consolidate the language and perpetuate it as a dialect of Messiah.

b) From this phase itself, the phylogeny is subtracted as kinship between species or taxa in general from tree species and wild plants. Although the term also appears in historical linguistics to refer to the classification of human languages according to their common origin, the term is used mainly in its biological sense. The symbiosis of both interactions will intervene in the juxtaposition of "Joshua is born and dies in the instant" when he is born in the stable "but his analogy Gethsemane and Golgotha, the two" G ", will recreate the salvific miracle and anticipation of the Scourge that it will suffer, but that the Hexagonal Progeny (Men and animal species and insects) will intervene with the salvific action from the caverns to gather the dry bones of humanity. It also makes us the exception of Shibboleth, comparative of Gaaladitas and Efraitas, to standardize the language as a probity to recompose the intra-social scale (use of the language indicative of social or regional origin, identifying the members of a group, in a kind of password), which appeals to changes in the use of phonetics in terms of difference and to aspire to reorder social disagreements, caused by major conflicts, including the loss of concomitant civilizations and their patrimonial socio-cultural niche, therefore of the Aramaic as a thread of anticipated signal of a beginning of communicative intention and preservation of messianic language)

c) Physical, mental, geophysical and spiritual elemental energies will mutate the adherence of the Aramaic dialect with the pollen duct generated in the Barnea olive species, creating a relationship of chemical change in them deified in favor of a new "Vernarth Berne" , with the interaction of the isotope that will generate the inclusion of a proton that will mutate the chemistry of divination and connectivity with the (Heavenly Father - Abba in the Garden), in such a way that the methodological lines of anticipation will prosper on the night of the rapture by the Sayones before being taken to the Lithostroto to be scourged, to interpret the power of his gospel.

d) And for the consequent emeritus synchronization of the Maasefa dry bone conjunction caves, unleashing the awareness of the awakening of protection before, during and after the events that occurred at the culmination of his death. This will delve into the three chemical sediments interacting with each other, the Aramaic language enchanting the univocal and eternal root to always have it in Gethsemane, the revelation of the phylogeny as a determining entity for the consolidation of the geophysical-animal world and the transcendent soul that intervenes among the stars.  Of the everlasting creation on the crescent Moon eleven days before, and the Sun -Shemesh astonishingly at the degradation of the human species and all its feelings of loss of unconfessed existence.

e) Experiencing and surviving the indecisions and fears of recognition of exposing and externalizing the calls of the antro caverns that have allowed us to escape the threats, but from there towards the reverberation in the same tune of a Calvary, in the basins of a skull , taking refuge to serve and look from the optics of the shining with the gold of the ears of wheat in your dreams. Gethsemane and Golgotha are the set of the "G" that generates endo-trauma in the throat and a global skeletal bone set, that wanting to relive the call of the Messiah, from the Neck of Heaven rising roughly through your throat, forever and through the Centuries of the Centuries.

f) The poetics that led me to write this poetic essay in this chapter (it is the same depressing unconsciousness of having a body already abandoned and without Soul, but in my own without understanding anything), this tends to describe how history us teaches that there are phenomena that are difficult to capture for sure, but that from the extra mediumistic sensibilities, emerge from where our consciousness does not discover what makes the divine exponential canonically intuitive spiritual power, or the external machine of multiple serial spirit systems, that they besiege and show us their Firmament, and that few times we will actually be able to enter them from deep within from the activation date our hyper consciousness, and the level of travel that leads to the abandonment of our intro meditation.


They were all stationed on the northeast *****, Eurydice arrived with her essences full of birds surrounding her, and she could not hold them due to the invasion of these surprising birds. They were all sitting on the stones of the garden; they were all resting with their heads on the Svein Tzora stones.


Vernath says: "The stone of Gethsemane", on grains and crystals are soaked with the spheres of the stone of the Mashiach. She showed them the meekness before the hardness that could be distinguished compared to limestone or clayey, full of sedimentary grains that devastate the igneous ones from where some voices of her holocaust were left over, compared to marrying her corporeal materiality with the aramic syllable embedded in a undressed and silent bustle, of everything and little petulant organic element coexisting in his morpho figure. This graphs the consonance with the demonstrations of passion by his followers embedding themselves in a stone with multiple and sharp cuts, as if taking the grains out of a pomegranate with his law of 613 grains that are enough to stipulate them and to break the lithosphere of the messianic referendum of his sacrificed law on the lithostroto. No barrier will stop us from surpassing this lithosphere, which so coldly separates us from the rebirth of a body that takes root beyond the cracks of Gethsemane, as do olive trees growing on the same stones, pretending to be in a mansard. The will of a destiny under a stone, admits arrogant concerns to startle that “He was there, and his destiny condemned him”, but “My Father, if possible, let this cup pass from me; but that it is not as I want, but as You want ...”, equivalent to relating stones for all the cups, as long as the will is of the Abba”, thus the stones are relieved, and our pride weighs less than the subterranean immortality.

Saint John says: “That it is agony; it is nothing more than supporting in our dreams the heavy shadow of his burden. The stone does not fit through the interstices of dreams, but its image weighing on the symbolism of being part of it, more than all hailstorms, being the scene of a sin near the disciple family and their dejection that runs where a curtain runs towards the resurrection. The thick drops are thick grains of the pomegranate in the Via Dolorosa, being thick stones falling from the universe and rubbing against the Sun and the Moon, falling on Him as well. Today on this day that the tribulation of an eternal night is confessed that never clarified, it will start to rain interrupting for days running backwards, since several syllables were left without catechizing before climbing from where the wind of Elijah called him Mashiach. Venerable Mashiach, always close to you leaping from the red sea, like a pomegranate like the food of a Father among waves of his sea! We are once again celebrating Holy Week and we have thought it appropriate to write this work on the Gethsemane stone, a gifted scene of his arrest, caused by the petty betrayal of all the Judases in the world. Mashiach, lonely in his full youth of thirty-three years in verses of his Aramaic succumbing on the arms of his Abba, He takes him and wraps him with his arms to defend him from the darkness, shedding blood and tears on a cracked stone, beyond the heavens of greater grenades in his hands revealing will that exceeds the levels of being rescued more times. There is a bitter taste of fruit, of course, but it tastes like a red planting of the rock, dry red that is not emanated from anything, but that if it brings us the generous hand that ceases pain and affliction, it produces sweet sleep even with irons. Forged entering through the middle of your carpal hands and tarsal feet. With the pantomime of our morbid, we stretch our arms on your refined cross, but without the conscience of the ******* trial of not experiencing the iron in our questioned soul, without crucified skin that in the epidemic the beast gave the punishment to its skin between screams and uncouth crying that if it occurs towards him, rather under the bitterness of a hammered heartless cup and inert stone that runs westwards seeking the voices of its pious mother. The sip of the sunset was swallowed in the sadness of my life that begins to be reborn every time it was lost and lifeless without feeling it as mine. I sleep in vigil on the flames of the stand of the stones of fire, and I fall asleep because others will not wake me on the edge of the one that cuts my game in flames. What cowardly courage accumulating in a depersonalized spilled heart ... what hours will have to pass without feeling them, to date the entry into her body of burning iron towards the sacrifice and not that of the. "Let it remain here on this stone with a fruitful shape, because it will not burst with impatience, rather with tears from grains of pomegranates." What a stronger bitterness than seven days in a row turning to my usual sweet sin, to end them abandoned without savoring it. For the first time I understand, since I have returned from exile that its Aramaic smells like grains of fruit and the syllables of the hundreds that are… are whipped like mega words that smell like its ***** trunk in solitude and abandonment. Its trunk like mine, stone of tree skin, of vile whips lost in the frieze of its temple breaking its head bark, crying its groans in full reconverted hopes of a crown into a hidden thorn. They are stuck in a grain of purple pomegranate, defeating the ailment of those who dared to martyr him in the pain that runs through his frozen veins ..., which is not sifted even by the brave poor; as it is to say by voice of the wealthy spirit helping you. "Being prepared and not, because I will not be the one who falls more times than falls from a stone rendered as stone dust where I have to go and where I have to be reborn"


Maasefa
Stone dust

"You are made of stone and you will become stone", were the words of communion in Gethsemane, from the stone of the Mashiach prayer, signaling the expression of freedom and the cessation of the oligarchy of belonging to the world doctrine of dimensional physical slavery , and its penetrating solidity of the stones that the priests made in the catacombs in times of consecration of loved ones to a centile universe of the orthodox spirituality. Here are the carved stones, such as those of the Sanhedrin that were gathered in the building known as the Hall of Carved Stones (Lishkat Ha-Gazith), which for this purpose will be the conservation of the ossuaries of the high authorities and common citizens, having the Maasefa's prerogative, which must consist in gathering the bones of all the reduced ones after a year that are completely hermetic in the assigned catacombs. Through this proximity of low spaces and recondite, the vague wandering of prescribing to approach the salvific redemption grows, awaiting the projection of the expired ancestors in the source of eternal life respected for the Mashiach (Messiah), to shelter us in their illusion in beauty brotherhood before being resurrected.

The Hexagonal Primogeniture, would go for the wading of making the nucleus of the nearby stones of the oratory of the garden towards an honorable mention of elaborating concavities in the geology of the garden, so that from the leftover dust of the carved stonemason the alliance of the Aramaic verb of cloistering is manufactured and the devotion of the members in each stone cell, and the explosion of the Aramaic verb speaking infinitely of the Father-Son analogy. In such a way that the translucent particles will be spread by the rhizomes of the Olivos Barnea species; deriving to Bern for the posthumous tribute of Vernarth, considered a Champion of the conservation and cenacle of living and extinct organic bones, such as the aforementioned case of the Apostle, before gathering as elemental dust of the Maasefa of Joshua before the completion of the retreat of the Garden of Gethsemane .

Shofar, sistrum, harp, and cymbals resound through the wise night and its star sign, before scouring the nearby veins to complete the Maasefa. They all sleep together that night touching heels in matrix phases to start a day with the force of stonework from left to right for allegory of the Menorah that never strays from the magnetized night. They get up at twenty to four at the beginning of the ritual. An hour and a half before sunrise they were in the purple sunrise stratum, on the layers of divinity tinged with the conscious subtlety of the creator in our being levitating. Its consequences rise before their bodies ..., evolving towards the hegemonic process on the layer of the nascent mineralogy that was going to intervene, which was oratory of the synchronic Mashiach or Messiah. Under it, Vernarth would begin to pierce, looking for the dimensional spaces of the search for its physiognomic extension adaptable to that of everyone and the evolving memory that separated the entrance from the Sun and the Moon on glasses waiting to be filled and drunk at noon. Eleven days before the Ekadashi (full moon) began. Thus, in this way they would sculpt the catacomb fanned into twelve simultaneous rocks that were in a perfect limbic diametrical circle, the line of the garden with its physical movements in congruence with the moon and the consciousness that matches it, like that alert of that fateful night in which he was abducted. In perfection with the oscillating vibration that is expanding in front of the cold back of the stone, analogically when the Mashiach vibrated in physical magnitude and in the absence of alert, but emotionally yes, after dialoguing with his Abba. The tremulous line that it covered was widely displaced further since it was transported towards the Edicule isotope, as an element of flight, escape, detonation and resignation, being able to find in the configured nature of fuss of a great variety of different isotopes as mass.  Which to a great extent will exceed in the cumulative gasified reaction,  and in purifying events that will occur at fifteen hours on Good Friday, when the prophetic events and the mischievous changes of evidence of the cataclysm expire on the cross and in the hands. The eclipsed sun, storm with depressed losses and cataclysm for a world that will sleep more than 1,700 years to the right, creating the consciousness of being in more than two conscious places, with the minimum and childish aspect of the remaining second that is divided between the before and after the physical and physiological abandonment, beginning in a final episode and of conclusive torment that precedes a culminating beginning. All this transformation of enclave and of energetic dimension allowed them to synchronously drill the sediment rocks that were thus sustained in the timid energy, generating electromagnetism of the field of the higher will. Thus, in the tunnels, all were drilling; they would be of the same mass category as the isotopes to manifest the energy and its dynamic charge, as a mass of occlusive energy that would explode on the martyrdom day of Golgotha.

Faced with this phenomenon of energy, it underlies the symmetry of the magnetic field created synchronously with the words emitted in the Aramaic word, comparing them with the reminiscences that must be poured in the twelve caverns of the garden, such as conversions and exchanges of the exhalations of the bees , bumblebees and wasps, in the universe of curve that transits the explosiveness of lines that approach the ratio of the dislocation of vibrations and their sound frequencies. Together with pollination as a genetic element of the fresh macerated chlorophyll and as a kinetic in the elytra of the Lepidoptera  with the indications of connecting the clan with the aforementioned electromagnetic energies. The interaction of the fields within the system will be induced between Golgotha and Gethsemane, they will establish electrical charges that will produce the gases and liquids that will intervene in the entire lithosphere, which unites both portions of soils, this created the interaction of particles, establishing the undermining of the rocks with the shapes of the Calota de Calavera basins, due to the geological conformation of the radius that surrounds both predicted areas. From this pattern, the caverns in the garden will be improvised, magnetizing the areas of vibration that depend on each other.

It seeks to interrelate a magnetic and electrical phenomenon between both areas; The impulse is derived to anticipate the forebodings of the Mashiach, and from how he was going to endure such torments towards his illustrious body in such a way as to electromagnetically retransmit it between the transmission bridge of the Garden and the admission bridge to Golgotha. This will trigger all subsequent supernatural and geological phenomena during the day of his crucifixion and the delicacy that will be glimpsed by decree of an execution against humanity and orthodox fanaticism, causing a sensitive correspondence of the transmission of faith and the dogma of attending to the physical work and mystical legacy to safeguard for successive generations in the Berna Olivar species, nodding correlation with the majestic and axiomatic cultivation of preservation under the catacombs, as the unalterable progeny of the concelebrating of the eternal relationship of lineage coalition united with the feeling and consciousness of Christian Eternity. This gravitational potential energy will attach the multi-aramic effect to all attendees, to confer dialogue, assimilate and consent to a dynamic supra-lingual, organic and historical heritage channel, on the basis of a monumental act of consanguinity before all will, "Here are all the alphas, on the Omegas." Creating complex harmonic movements between the caverns of impiety,  but with a perfect and refactioning equation with the rescued Prayer in Aramaic towards the universe in quasi-presence periods, but not verifiable until the salvific prayer ritual is concluded.

The chain reaction of this divine particle will be the opposite charge of the reaction of the active work area of tension consolidation between both columns, Golgotha and Gethsemane, both are started with "G" and if you turn it in any direction around it you make a perfect skull of no more than twelve kilometers, whose distance in direct line would certainly be crossing the eternal vision through the ocular concavities, demonstrating that at the level of analogy and esoteric analysis, the extended reciprocity of the supra value of consciousness is latent divine, from where the emission of the word and the will "the shell or head skeleton" in the sense of reduced material and the antimatter particle that would become where the universes intersect in the elite of direct mercy (one has already occurred , but the other sphere of the difficult concavity still has to go ..., only a Messiah will have to cross it when it returns to us again). This Eclipse of the Messiah of the Sun, is a dark aspect of anemic light, torment and of three maries, vindicating in this superficial love token in the Orchard of antimatter rooted in the anti particle, which evades this great event by lavishing its blessed spiritual figure, charged with ambivalent theological antimatter; of egregious trust and bipartisan univocity but failing for the dark mercy on Golgotha and luminous in the garden of Gethsemane. "His body trembled and the Earth too"

Shibboleth

Incorporating the Shibboleth for distinction of members of a group, such as the tribe of Efraim, whose dialect lacked a sound (S), unlike others, such as the Gileadites, whose dialect did include it? Shibboleth is a spike and also celebrates the fertility of wheat crops and all concomitant species of the natural and endemic species of central Judah. And the Gileadites seized the fords of the Jordan River to Ephraim, and when one of the Ephraim who had fled said, Shall I pass? Those of Gilead asked him: Are you Ephraim? If he answered no, then they said to him: Well, say "shibboleth". And he said sibboleth, because he could not pronounce that luck. Then they seized him and slaughtered him.  And so forty-two thousand of the Ephraim died.

The relevance of this event is to begin the Maasefa ritual, for the reunion of the spiritual roots, bones and genealogical of the beings close to the Messiah, they will have to infuse in these franchises, to be derived to the area of the twelve caverns that are being elaborated for the closing and closing of the ring of the passionate and energetic journey of the Word of the Messiah, its renewal and interaction with the psychic spiritual world and its consciousness, in the coexistence of animal nature, indoctrinating civilizations of coexistence in a state of cyclical normality , but renovating when released by the contending magnetic forces that made the whole ring that surrounds Gethsemane and Golgotha a magnet tunnel of great mystical conversion for the purpose of adaptability and preservation of the renewed pollinations of bumblebees, bees and wasps in view of a commonwealth molding and spreading in all spheres of faith and apotheosis of the pre act of departure of the Messiah to the judgment and punishment of its truth. After defeating their scourge in a stunned journey, they will fall with the great similarity of the verb that "Betrays and Forgives", the Universe in its creation that renews everything, because that is how it has been written since the beginning of the Universe and by the one who dictated it ". Shibboleth, will congenial differences of understanding, without prejudices and differences of vertical geographical, anthropological, cultural and divine linguistic mentions. "Our informal culture is preserved within the village houses by resisting the scourge of victorious death, within the cave that protects us in its infinite goodness and compassion"
                                      

Maasefa and the Valley of Dry Bones

At the appointed time the Svein Tzora, "flint stones", collide to ignite the fire of the Messiah. The thunder was such that it made the seas pour over the rivers and thunder over the roofs of the houses and fire over the banks of each unfulfilled prayer! They all get up, each one leaving each cave of their Calvary; they go to the meeting of the Dry Bones. The tradition of gathering the bone component that has no soul, everything deviates towards the request of the flesh for its soul. Like the account of the Prophet Ezekiel five hundred years B.C. There are many outstanding remains of skeletons, this would be resumed in Gethsemane, for the descendants of the son of the Messiah caste, the Cherubim with the lepidoptera twenty meters from the Svein Tzora will donate the light and heat to start the ritual of the dim light of the moon. It is already a crescent moon, and the dim green lights are shining through the beautiful dim green branches, lighting up the dry earth of the beloved orchard on the face of the Calvary field. The advantageous meats that began to meat the bones, raised the desire to start ultra fast in the oropharyngeal area, to provide solemnity and fulfillment of prophecy of the sacred language of the Aramaic lingual set in tune with the vibrations of waves of sounds of the wind in romance With the blasts of fire towards their faces. In this way the spirit of Jehovah adhered to bring together the primary meeting words of the Bethhelem edicts with the visions of Joshua, so that the stable in their language would issue the immortal edict from the Kafarsuseh stable to Gethsemane. Now everything was holy energy in union of the lands that made fertile compost and the word was fulfilled.

The valley of the olive trees was reconverted, and they prayed for complacency, all tried in the love of clan and shadow in the accident of the event, the new consciousness will not deprive of anointing the past-present of realization of joy of bones with bones, of laughter with laughter, of father with grandparents, of children with their children, with hands bigger than the hand covered with great spirit, over a valley where only hands with candles should fit in each of them

Step by step a kite ascends to the sky
regains  memory of transcendence
of once being the echo of a cloud
sailing speedily westwards.
the kite remembers another life
and strays far beyond it's distance permitted,
when the string rudely pulls it back,controls,
the young cloud, narcissistic
still keeps it's love for the echo, in swirling
wisps of vapor as gently caressing wet touch

The lone woman who suppresses deep inside her chest,
the tumultuous waves of love and passion,
imbuing the emotion sunset spews, suddenly breaks down
the startled sea breeze is the only witness to her outburst.

the sky slipping fast in to the gloom of darkness
stands frozen, silent, as if melting in the pain love causes,
when one bids final good bye to the beloved, vowed never to part.

I’m heading west and I’ll tell you why
I’m young and the world’s still mine
Last chance whilst I’m not tied
And West has caught my eye

Where to go was hard to choose
This world of mine is rather huge
So listening to other people views
South America suits me, so why not Peru?!

One stop there I have to make
The Inca trail, and not a fake
So I booked it first, even before the plane
A starting point to lead the way

Flights further west frequent from Chile
So that decision made more easily
And then with Bolivia’s close proximity
My route was made clear to me

The finer details I’m still unsure
The options are vast of which I’m allured
Spoilt for choice of landscape and more
No part of this continent will be a bore

Except perhaps the time spent on roads
Long distance between places that I’ll go
And doing it all whilst alone
My own head may become too well known

I’ve written a route but expect it to change
As I meet new people along the way
Stories of experiences will lead me astray
Or personalities might hold me for an extra day

This is the beauty of this trip
All the decisions are in my grip
And although daunted by the Spanish lip
Independence will force me a learning hit

I’ll tick some boxes of my bucket list
Some of which I know I wont miss
Lone travel, new language-even if just bits
Volcanoes, salt planes, surfing-they’ll be blitzed

Then further west I’ll be on my way
To meet my family for that special day
Hear new words my niece has learnt to say
And meet her little sister, for which I cannot wait

But before they show me their new home
Up the coast of their country I shall roam
Starting Sydney where I’ll be stunned I know
Then toward where all the hippies go

After Father Christmas has been
And they’ve shown me all that must be seen
And fed me plenty barbeque supreme
The West of Aus is where I’ll next lean

Here I’ve more family ready to meet
And a New Year for us to greet
My uncle will keep me upon my feet
Showing me places that make their life neat

These chances I’m so lucky to take
Though I miss them so and it does ache
At least they all live in a wondrous place
And happily share with me all that is great

But it doesn’t quite end there
There’s more the world has to share
So to make the most of my fare
I’ll touch down in Bangkok to taste Thai air

And although I wont have long to lurk
I’ll squeeze in sights the city serves
It depends on when I am due to start work
For at some point it’s time I became a nurse

But even that I look forward to
I love my job and what I do
And at least the role is not all new
I know it but my responsibilities’ have grew

By this time I’m sure to say
I’ll be in desperate need of pay
So although I’ll be living back in gray
I’ll be glad when a salary comes my way

Isabel sits on the rusted garden bench,
my heart misses a beat, yet again as I watch,
her eyes are downcast, it's late afternoon,
she looks **** tired, dishevelled, distraught.

The world is on a slide, going bad to worse,
believe me i could see premature grey in her coiffure,
she is fired from her job, I can guess,
it hits me hard to think she is inconsolable.
Then, we all are, who is secure these days!

Under a tree, with withered leaves, she sits,
climatic change, obviously is playing havoc with it,
the evening sun, just slanted westwards,
seems unusually cruel to this girl,
no cover of thick foliage, moreover.

I see children playing around Isabel,
even they are soon losing interest,
if mirthful they are, make some noise and
run around, she would have smiled,
I would have felt far better than this!

Well, I don't know Isabel, may be her name is different,
on evenings I used to watch her from afar,
with curious eyes, I admired her incomparable elan,
hoping to make friends with her,
such a gentle soul she looked.

We'd become friends, by and by, I had hope,
I saw her smile and loved her sunny side,
but before I could meet and ask her out,
it happened, even without a notice,
I am fired from my job, today.
They said the downturn affected us bad, it showed,
What can you possibly say,
other than, just accepting the pink slip

The ship(notified) lost
leisurely drifts over waves
westwards, "Unhurried hereafter"
is the slogan written on it's mast
it would seem to an onlooker.
A net is cast wide,
to catch as much fish
as the tired crew now needs.
Each furious wave
that rushes towards the ship
changes tack, proclaims
a frothy message of peace.
No more communication exchanges
causing disturbances, no hurry any more.
None waits for the lost ship,
in any distant shore, with a binocular,
or spanning a Radar, uneasily .
The crew had already forgotten
every mission undertaken before.
It has no schedule, deadlines, plan
the ship feels more buyout than ever before
,just floats along, as if it's a tranquil thought,
towards the direction where
the purple sun prepares to set dramatically.
Accompanied by two astonished whales,
sailing along like two mates, the ship,
now a lone wolf,with a hidden yearning
has become more alive, once declared lost.

The sun, slanting westwards
chases me with competitive spirit;
speeding through, interstate highway
from Hyderabad to Bangalore,
long stretches I see, are waterless seabeds
reminds the oceanic origin of all
sense of time vanishes, I am an unknown
creature of the sea, an explorer of underwater geology.
                                    Like life, it's a winding long drive
             lonely too,  like one often finds, oneself in spite of many loves,
just incessant voices that soon lose meaning.
Speaking to myself, quietly, alone
I realize this, calmly, in life-
one is alone in many ways .
How curious,
the sun, my co-traveller,
caught sight of me,
and graciously gives me
a smile of recognition,
still continues the chase playfully,
from my right,
I like his verve
he too finds fun in our run.
He becomes red all over,
decides to set in the west
he signals,
above Nandi Hills
his spectacular farewell show
makes me slow down and watch.
At the height of the display, he vanishes
like a magician, taking every drop of light with him,
leaving me to find my way
through darkness, that I have to dispel myself.

To toast the official opening
Of our village Millennium Green
Twelve of us went on a journey
To see sights we’d never seen.

With a degree of apprehension
We were all of one accord
With an enormous basket that was attached
To a hot-air balloon we all got on board.

Whooshhh was the noise from the burner
As the pilot lifted up off the ground
But then as we rose up much higher
It was done with nary a sound.

Slowly we drifted Westwards
Then moving slightly to the South
A dozen brave souls in a basket
Gazed at landscapes with open mouth.

Stafford Castle was down below us
Then the motorway passed by too
We soon headed away from Stafford
Then Cannock Chase came into view.

We spotted some fallow deer grazing
Some of them sitting as if to retire
Then the pilot again fired the burner
And lifted the basket much higher.

Finally we reached the maximum height
That we were allowed to reach
Four thousand four hundred and eighty feet
A specific height that our balloon couldn't breech.

It was then that I saw with amazement
While the evening sun shone at our side
A passenger liner flew up through the clouds
It was a beautiful sight which no-one denied.

And did I get such a fabulous picture
Well of course not, I was too much in awe
By the time I had swung round my camera
A tailplane and the sight was no more.

We were coming to the end of our journey
I thought seeing the plane was the peak
But then we saw Lichfield Cathedral
With its three spires that make it unique.

The experience will always stay with me
Of an evening with a view from above
As we floated about in the heavens
Over countryside in the county I love.

©Joe Wilson – A View from Above 2014

‘August 2000 on a Friday evening in glorious sunshine, the balloon
lying in a heap on Derrington Millennium Green in Staffordshire, UK,
gradually began to fill with air as the pilot and his assistant slowly
pulled at it to allow air into all the creases. Suddenly it stood up
and drifted up into the air, though it was still tethered in four places
to the ground. I had no idea they were so big or so tall.’ ©Joe Wilson 2014

Misty gaze, jittered breath
Sun burned skin ironed to stop the creases.
The fly never ceases to change direction
it follows mightily close.
Boxed into a shadow, one which no one else can see
How can that be?
Claim the sights as mine or ours?
Leave to follow mans created hasty pursuit
Chasing the everlasting scent of the poisoned flower.

The big man has too many sayings, creates etchings with his words
Repeatedly lost in the background of distasteful play,
All numbers numerate to a phantom deal
Answers long slipped under broken tables.
Open fields are searched like space,
Meteors fly spitting fire with gunshots
Shining towards an illusion of a finish line.
Crawl westwards some will say, crawl right, or jump and hit the explosive beckoning.

The clouds are moving in the sky rolls westwards
Holy oceans screen
Rear window views of dusk set dawns
And ocean blue hues
Ripples like waves a breeze of cold air tingles my bones and I’m caught in the snare in the wave in the loop in the hook sink liner
Of a one time lover but a full time homie
Bliss flows openly

As skies rain down yellow blessing of jello frivolity
And laughter lines appear to be simple minded blasphemy,
But really are divinely guided, uncanny
How the same is different to others

What is easy about living
When your head feels like it is splitting in two?

An angry man tells off
A loud mobile phone woman
She leaves the quiet carriage
Indignantly
‘I am detached’ he says

My heart beats
My mind aches
I realise
I am detached too

I sit here
And busy myself with writing

Carelessness provokes anger

I must be careful
To take care
Of myself

Today I gather
Snippets of conversation

Phrases that stick in my mind

I glue them together
In collage

Again
And once more
Even though the ice clings to the grasses still
I travel in my mind
To other places
To memory

I feel the cool ****** of my ring finger
Where I lost my wedding ring
To the Cornish seas
And I am lost
No longer here

Beneath the turquoise sea
There lives a mermaid.

She waits for me

It is she
Who has captured the gold from my hand

It is she who is calling me
Westwards

‘Come my love
Run from your troubles
And let me love you’

Together we will lay
On the ocean bed
Wafted by the warm currents
Wrapped in strands of seaweed
And love each other
Truly

she swims around me, curling through veins
in a roller-coaster cart. eyelids slowly
opening to existence,
my own miniature ghost

she has your toes. finds a fold
in my skin and follows the line westwards
walks a tightrope with your balance
and my echoing laughter.

they said it was in my mind,
that I gave birth.

You were trying to cover your footprints in the sand
and only ended up leaving more
a spiral of your perfectionism
look over there -
over the beach houses on stilts
and the fauna - scrap metal bushes and dry, lonely trees -
see how the sun’s kiss sets the sky on fire?
the water is licking our heels with an icy, arctic tongue
we could walk westwards until our silhouettes are vaporized
but the sand is relaxed and this beach is empty
the acoustic guitar is talking in its sleep
ADD children are doing backflips in the backyard

Night crashes and crashes and recedes into the horizon
we climbed atop one another with visions of lunar satisfaction
time slows down and each drop of condensation on the window
contains the secrets of this muggy southeastern air
the strangers are encroaching too thick to think
warped monstrous faces ripe with desire
we couldn’t answer the questions so we burned the test
tinder to our fire so we could ward off the predators for another night
but the ground is growing smaller day by day

Mr. Demon do not deviate from this round of double dutch
my shoelaces are tied together
and I am hopelessly drunk off of your ideas on romance
that mix of sunscreen, sweat, perfume, and your breath
as my fingers prune
we mistook the blinking jet engine for morse code from the stars
once the clouds part we will have an escape route
taking flight with the startled panic of street birds
the earth will shake, the seas boil over, and the clouds will applaud
with wings made of coat hangers, brown paper bags, and masking tape
we will arr through the sky
like fireworks

Brother, let me hold you tight…
Shelter you through the long, freezing night!
Behold, before all that surrounds us come ablaze…
How the fires shall devour, the minutes of every hour,
How the restless shall reap, and fairest will cower!

When the night grows thin…
How the world unfolds!

The tides of time shall pass, and this too… my friend,
Through the tainted glass, through us both; me and you,
The wind… every so westwards!

Light, blinding and bright, soon shall shine.
Through the pain and the rain, so everlasting…
So in vain…
O’ how little we knew, despite me and you …

The earth shall twist and turn,
And the skies shall rain on you,
Yes… Out of everybody else,
But I, my brother, will shelter you!

O', how endless our love and plight…
Endless through the day and night.

A.r. Bazian
*August 26th, 2016

A bird with wings outstretched
seen partly from the side
white against the blue
wining westwards into the setting sun
its fan of feathering
its definite head and a beak
it flew there for some minutes
gradually disintegrating
becoming anonymous

perhaps we too become anonymous
we have our hour in the sun
look whole and beautiful
until the eve of our descent
fly over the land with outstretched hands
glide past the villages of life
until we lose our presence in the now
dissipate into the sky like dust
golden in the light of the setting sun

Margaret Ann Waddicor 7th June 2016

When the offspring has  flown from its  nest,
having been nourished all for the best
it will soon fly westwards
to welcome the  beginning of  its own time.
How our original plans  speck away
when we had  laden the  powder of  trust
on  its  feet
but so  often the web has run full circle
turning from purity to  false flight
the inner being of the  fledging

The girl with the fan
goes up the bridge
the water reflects
her slender image

The gentlemen peer
casually ahead -
to the girl with the fan
who wants to be wed

The girl with the fan
is silently beckoning
the ruffles rustle
what she is thinking

The gentlemen stare
as they portly squire
their fair-haired wives
in fancy attire

The crickets chirping
their love songs westwards

(The girl is hopping
there to the pastures)

The crickets chirping
amidst the flowers

(The gentlemen are
still walking northwards)

Last train
what a pain
Someone sick on the platform,
Someone got no style or panache.

I watched them dash hell for leather and whether that made them sick I don't know, but I think they should go by bus, no fuss then, busses come when they want to and if they want to spew
let them.

It made me late
Only slightly though
and if they puke I don't
look,
that would be impolite.

I'll get home tonight at some time, put the kettle on and smoke a rhyme or just write a smoky line,
but it won't make me sick
make me pick on my scabs or grab a granny or bottle,
a glass of wine I could throttle right now.

This last train's a cow
full of bullocks and bullspit and
people are quite sick at people who puke out their innards while heading Westwards on a downward spiral.

I need antiviral
an
innoculate
to precipitate a
reversal of
fortune.

Nearly home now
Off the mad cow
and feeling
ill at ease.

Above the silent train tracks
A dose of renewal
Drifts through this hazy spring morning

Floating seeds gently dance
In warm currents of air
And a mother tree sighs in the breeze
As she releases her offspring
Into this soft morning
With a prayer that they
Will find their way

Thousands of furry parcels
Floating up and down
Glide slowly westwards
In front of my sleepy eyes

The sweet air is laden with promise
And all I can do is wonder
At this fairy-like menagerie
Of spring

We worry.
We wonder why.
We wake, we wait, we work
We worry.

We whine wuthering
Whispers, wavering, wasted,
Wishing while wishing
Wanting while wanting,
Wondering why.

We work well,
Well, we work,
While wizardly weaving
Wispy wavelengths,
Weedy wasps of
Wanton whimsy,
Wired well within.

We will warmongers
Without wonder
Who wreak
Widespread waste,
Welcome Wasteland,
Washing with war the
Wounded World.

We will war
War wills we
We wage war
With weird weapons.
We wrestle with will.
Why?

We wait whole
Weekdays, weekends. A
Ways away, the waning
Winter winds of men's
Wisdom's wavering.

Withering winks from
Wistful women,
Widening wingspans,
Wads of we, we,
Wandering westwards
Where suns wane,
Wait out wear of weather ,
Wondering why.

Warm waters will wash us,
We will wake up well.

i have never heard of morals give me more autumn chill me
shiver my shins sleep in my flesh keep warm with bled blanket that only just fits we sit herded on sofas bigger than psychiatry though it holds us barely
our minds a millennium freestyle
i feel revivable, immortal, extorted
went under in a fortnight
now i feel reborn like Zephyrus
i stride westwards never slowly i am storming on
what were strong teeth and pearl mask
this venus retrograde i am unmasking you
my mouth is a telephone spit line and i will call you tomorrow

my memory is split twice and i will never forget how
we sank deeper into my mattress
lowered into the foam
two froth corpses one bite out of my each of my feet
bottled up scabs to heal something else maybe later i am saving on everything now just in case ploughed down my
plan b capitalism saxophonist co-producer nudess star

reverse of i am ways revisited
sent some string quartets to my past self some poems some antlers and me in a black-and-white dream again reliving the uncontrollable
taste the soap lips eyes inwards finger gun pointed
focussed on myself
my essence is wild picking
flowers off of your back a stroll
a toll on my muscles

i crawl
lift my left leg slightly
bend my fronton backwards

i drink more air craft
restricted
gulping
death metal

i want you to
go inside my room
outlive yourself then go
outside amid plains and forget all of the limb peaks and die then rebirth yourself in the morning climb yourself mount yourself
causal cliff
and in front of me
you are hanging by a thread

Saint Patrick in an AD 432
metaphor, banished all the
snakes from the island of
Ireland, in County Mayo
where a small mountain is
called after him and every
year people climb it bare-
footed to look Westwards
towards America where
they all ended up and are
still there to this day in a
fort that was called after
John Knox the Caledonian
equivalent of Luther and
Calvin, thus why everyone
loves the Irish, but think
the Swiss, French & Scots
are vers de terre. VIPER$

I leave you this as one of the most beautiful pieces of poetry ever written. So moving and yet full of metaphor and tenderness in the words .
Love Mary xxxx



“Snow was general all over Ireland…” The last paragraph of Joyce’s The Dead

Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, further westwards, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling too upon every part of the lonely churchyard where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
The Dead
James Joyce

Should I credit the Romans
Believing we are opposite the Mediterranean
After the tribe of Berber
Somewhere around Tunisia
Then “Suna’ed” us Africa

Oh the land of fruit and corn!
How blessed thou art
The cradle of human civilization
Someday we shall ask the Phonecians
How two words: "friqi" and "pharika
Combined to make Africa

As they all jostled to take credit
Driven by the zest to unlearn, learn and relearn
“Na dem oh!” The Greeks, they chose “Aphrikē”
Because we are free from cold and horror
A summation of fify-four beautiful countries
So my dear, Africa ain’t no country
It’s a beautifully endowed continent

Theories can be rationalized
So, I beg to defer, “No be only Africus”
How can a Yemeni invade our continent?
And also get the bragging rights
I refuse to accept “Africa” is a Yemenite invader
“Hapana Sio kweli”

Whether from the explorers, westwards
Or the traders from India
Whoever conjured the name “Mother Africa”
Surely deserves some accolades
Your next vacation, destination Africa
Come my friend, come
You’ll be glad you did

Though rich, yet under-developed
Slowly but surely we have progressed
This, grossly under-reported by your media
We are a continent blessed with “All”
Don’t die until you experience our hospitality
Maybe, just maybe, together we can take a walk

Arrow formation
Winging steadily  across
Westwards in the sky

From The Steppes

  Mother bear awakes
  from a deep slumber,
  hibernation abruptly,
  prematurely, ended.

  Sleep deprivation of
  a provocative nature,
  induced insomnia by
  uncaring neighbours.

  With earth trembling
  strides, she makes
  her way westwards,
  giant steps, in snow.

Mother bear awakes
  from a deep slumber,
  hibernation abruptly,
  prematurely, ended.

  Sleep deprivation of
  a provocative nature,
  induced insomnia by
  uncaring neighbours.

  With earth trembling
  strides, she makes
  her way westwards,
  giant steps, in snow.