No one
Silence has a favor to ask
Move the might, adored withheld
Are, the voice of lies, and the act

***
In one misery, to embarrass
Signs to defer, elaborate hosts vex
A callous waste, of decided pasts

Long spoken treacle
Superiority has the moment
Fear, despair; married an oracle
Save your childhood first, the tickle relented:

Poison to youth...
Prestige came by paper and honey
Sweet nothings, that promise to tow aloof
Until presence is a form to money

Money already spent
On have and Eden?
Where has a liberty, been meant?
Somehow the miserable wind, has cried for a reason...

When I was born the theme for the shower was Noah’s Ark, which if you don’t know is the story of hundreds and thousands of People being drowned by their father because He made them in a way that He knew He had no choice but to hate.
And because He had the power.
I always think this is a strange inheritance
To give a Child:
Countless mothers, thrashed against rocks and stones and trees that grow seed-bearing fruit, Grandparents scraped against the sides of cities, Sisters sputtering when lungs burn up with water.  Chaos everywhere. Pallid bodies floating over dark depths. Waves bigger than mountains, surging over clouds. Growing with the torrent. And worst by far, Wailing that is louder than the onslaught
of rain in sheets the size of seas.
When I go home I wince at blankets and baubles
Plastered with smiling elephants, giraffes and dolphins, blushing two-by-two.
That is just like my mother
to look at the tempest that killed everyone alive
and see the animals

O wind, o air of present day wisdom. O insightful brethren of the gardens of reality. O ominous depth which no one has crossed in a day.
O head and eye, symbols of understanding and vision.
O hole, o void, on the floor of my being: consuming every normal thought I can muster.
O reflection of a reflection, distracting me from my first attraction.
Now I'm lost in this crystal cave of imagination, which breaths in the Spirit of the present day.
Was not this what I was seeking: to enter the boat rowing on this sea,
To look further in this void of my soul, which swallows every normal way and intention.
Rhymes here mock the true story.
Every creature of normalcy is swallowed by this nothing.
Only building a stronger ship and stronger rowing arms gets me further.

The Hood of the Worlds is worn by my guide
Sick with illness of body, this is the only way to cross the waves.
For nature is now forgotten, only winds of destiny remain.
Here comes the winds of despair blowing next to this ship without sail.
The writer's body fails mid-row.
Will the normalcy give it's cure to the seeker of the philosopher's stone, and cause this ship to sink?
The weird is precious here, but a day of normalcy before has shut weird's way as well.
I breathe into my gut the winds of sorrow, now the poison of malace wafta over the waters.
What will I stumble upon on this journey?
What could be in store for this adventurer?
Even the normalcy of the elements try to cure my disease of unrest.
Why not sail a ship by the winds of tomorrow?
With that last word, normal has bound my heart, now my limb.
I place my hand more firmly on the oars, but now wonder if I even need to row to find what I'm looking for.

I step aboard another bigger ship of a fellow seeker true.
He has sails that already blow,...with tomorrow?!
What have I done?
My poor boat was best, stricken by death.
But he reassured me: "I have food and supplies until sunrise".
But tomorrow is too normal still.
It's sun and Ray's, the billowing clouds, all make for me to sink back into the hole, the void.
Maggets fester, worms intrude, in the dark water.
Yet even these creatures' nature to decompose my body, is too normal for the void.
Being me, being man, being human, too normal too.
I'm only a spec, a mark, a dot, and once I manifested I get merged.
So I'll remain partially hidden in everything.

Is that what this is about?
That what I see is partially hidden for a point?
For a point to not sweep itself away?
Yes, the kingdom of heaven"in your midst" or "within" is just a way to keep the light just right for my own edification and entertainment.
Too normal this purpose is, for me to cross this void.
No, the point still hidden, that wondrous spec, is hidden due to weakness of me, it's observer.
Or else hidden and manifest would be one.
Look what I've found, I've come to "He".
A normal thing I do all the time, I know.
So this reason is too normal to bring a shade of new to this void, so peaceful it is.
"He" knows too much to seek out anything.
"It is you I seek" He says with utmost adoration of me, His subject.

If you seek me, and I seek to build a ship that can bridge the dark and the light, is your Ark, so strong, just another ship to poke a hole in?
"Why I don't know" was His reply.
I guess I'll climb aboard, and be His guest.
What do I seek?
A gem like no other, a tale fabricated that even I would be amazed at.
"I know what you seek" He says as He steers His Ark in it's direction.
"A million stars?" He asks.
"Even that is a common normal thing".
"A ship to cross them?" He wonders.
What is there our there that is more amazing than transcendence?
"Hmm, I wonder," He gives a smile of admiration.
"That's what I've said too" He agreesthe tale is told to a degree.

As  John put it
The incarnated word,
Saint Mary was entitled
To feed Her *******
And Hold, but whom
Juda the culprit
For 30 birr sold
Is almighty God.(John 1:1John 1:12.John 8:58)

Here it should pop up
To your attention
"God is with you!"
Saint Gabriel's to
The Immaculate felicitation.

So God,
Christ is a presiding judge
An inch do not budge
Hearing shallow teachings
Quite strange
Christ killers-turned
-Christ-peddlers on many
A religious forum stage.
As Canaan, awaits
Them a curse
For trying to belittle Christ
Intent to line up their purse.

On the cross
It was the incarnated word
That allowed the repentant
Shieftan on his right
The first greenlight
To heaven of course.

Witnessing
His sons'
Polar opposite deeds
Noah better felt
The visitation of  God
In Shem's tent.(Genesis 9:18-27)

Hence God's incarnation
That still reflect
Are entitled
Membership to the tent,
Which personifies
Saint Mary
The immaculate.

Thus, as the
Chosen generation
True to
Saint Mary's prophesy
Let us echo "The Graceful
And the immaculate!"
Evading Satan's
Yet another bait.

Well they knew it was coming,
                        But didn't do a thing,
building in secret, not many knew..

Two by two of species some
   Well known but 40 days
And 40 nights some never
Made it home..

As the waters rose,
And land was swolllowed.
A mother with a child.

"Please take my children,
  "They have not sinned,

"Nothing done against this God.

Noah looked and walked away..

As his children went to help,
                Stay your pity.
The mother is sin so then is
   The child..

A *******
         as out of wedlock born.

Cries lasted for hours,
        Then swallowed like

The land.

"Father why didn't we even
       Save one,

Noah answered

"They angered our father,
   Thinking they didn't need
        His love,

The children confused,

"But if they grew out of
     The cradle shouldn't a
        Father be proud

As self sufficient..

Noah agnerly replied..

"We will always need him,
    He is our father, mother, child.

To deny him is sin untold,
  So he cleaned the slate.

And we his children were
    Saved for we obey,
   His word is just.


As the dove came back,
   Land was fruitful once more

And on the shoreline a child
Face down..

But Noah didn't flinch,
    Walking past he said to
His family,
                    God is good..

Genocide was his gift,
    And not all the animals
That attended found this
                     New home.

There bones discarded
    On the ocean floor.
Two by two they deserted
   This prison ship.

And so Noah and his family
    Repopulated the earth..

Now for the mindful  just
       Think deeply on that.

I’m back in my same chair again
and still I study the leaves
and meditate what they mean.
If everyone says the same, doesn't it mean it’s true?
What if the planet is telling me this one thing
and each and every star is echoing the same thing,
so it must be true and then it must be fact.
That means something.

I felt every second and every minute of each hour,
and you can’t even imagine the boredom at the bottom of my stomach;
patch me up and fill me up with something worthy.
Ain’t that somethin’ real?
If everyone says so and it’s worthy of my time,
ain’t it real?

But isn’t that something true to me?
The view, the raw feeling it gives me inside.
The itch I can’t reach and the gnawing inside my stomach,
And the fact that I can’t grasp what I need and it kills me;
And now I’m disturbed and I’m sick and I can’t figure out.
What is this bothering me? Is this something for me?
Tailored, sewn, and pressed for me?

I end my night on my roof,
the stars at my fingertips and the moon as my pillow;
the moon soaking me with a cleansing glow;
the shower up here felt so amazing.
There’s nothing like this type of view.

In the days of Noah,
none ate meat and all spoke the same tongue;
and neither race nor religion exists, nor divides;
Yet blood shed in wickedness,
flowed as rivers watered the land.

In the days of Noah,
there was no writing, for there was no need:
for promise made was promise kept;
Yet lies filled the land,
the more insidious for the purer the tongue was.

In the days of Noah,
each man was a city, living to see his seventh generation,
and thought accursed if lived not past his 300th birthday;
Yet age led not to wisdom but only foolish old men,
and thus ordained not to live past 120 years.

In the days of Noah,
the clime was pleasant with not a rainbow in the skies,
and feasting and merrymaking alfresco all day and all night was life;
Yet **** and pillage were common,
for might was right, and the sword, the judge.

In the days of Noah,
knowledge and technologies were of the gods,
revealed to man by the sons of the gods;
Yet giants and mutants, of beast and man,
roamed and devastated the earth, the seas and the skies.

In the days of Noah
naming creates, even as animals were named,
and things unimaginable today were named into existence;
Yet the gift was abused,
and man wanted to make a name for himself.

And the days of Noah shall be here again.
We may soon speak, in appearance, a common tongue,
helped by the written word and Alexa.
And man is already making a name for himself:
His abilities are never more justified and demonstrated;
And if all on Earth are agreed,
there is nothing on earth and in the heavens that is beyond him.
His zenith comes and the Day of the Son of Man is soon to be!

So shall it be then. Amen and Amen.

an ark
of Noah
would disembody
a silvery
horse with
seraphim whether
res publica
rained on
earth with
quiescent nomads
and to
cloud their
creation in
planet of
thieves with
periods of
sporadic sea