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Nico Julleza Jul 2017
Anxious
Dull, a boy is he
names he would not plea
eyes like baby blue-
lips a crimson hue
Feelings like me and you

Reclusive
Outsiders he'd not choose
In his mansions he bore
luring himself-
with enchanting lore's
drifting away, loosing woes

A Xenos
Traveling in his hallways
unknown, ominous
a wretched life he portrays
even in his heart, he'd say-
"Loneliness, such a Cliché"

Forsaken
Befriended, unseen
though he's not a devil
-for I believe
tortured, battered on thee
delude by his mistress' skim

He Left
portals out from misery
gone himself eagerly
then comes back, with such
-A Victory
for now, a statured man is he

Knights & Kings
upon bended knees
and everything he please
from a man to a boy
-in a dream
A Castle, now he redeems
YES TO "ANTI-BULLYING"
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#Boy #Castle #Man #Dream

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
You love us when we're heroes, home on leave,
Or wounded in a mentionable place.
You worship decorations; you believe
That chivalry redeems the war's disgrace.
You make us shells. You listen with delight,
By tales of dirt and danger fondly thrilled.
You crown our distant ardours while we fight,
And mourn our laurelled memories when we're killed.
You can't believe that British troops 'retire'
When hell's last horror breaks them, and they run,
Trampling the terrible corpses--blind with blood.
O German mother dreaming by the fire,
While you are knitting socks to send your son
His face is trodden deeper in the mud.
Without the souls of Trouvere, will he aspire to spheres from where he can replicate himself in the ductile state of the ceremonious Energeia...? The naive action is univocal as the first practice modulated in inclinations and lexical motricities, where they die within their fears, failing to hope and convalesce their desecrated wounds congruent in concepts of Energeia, as an arbitrary neologism to move what in itself is not self- scrollable. Vernarth after witnessing Stratonice's intermission decides to run barefoot for those who banish needs on the parental scale of his range. Succeeded by the need of Energeia towards the impudent sense of being enraptured in possibilities, and supernatural substantialities that transported him in the Epistle even to his desiring hands, but in natural causes, and kinetic emotionality in the destiny of the principles of a movement that dialogues by a spinning spin; alembicated in particles of displacement time eccentricity, towards itself in the synonymous statics, providing intrinsic angles to be associated with the rotation of time and Epistolary demands so that the quantum light can relate the energetic spiritual emotionality, with the own dissociated relationship in the spaces of appearance; where it is to be believed that there is a moment of bias provided in the emotional-movement rooted in linear memories of the temporality of the Hellenic mental axis. Everything is proper in the coordinates of the speculating, which is adduced and duplicated in Poielípsis or unveiled generation of relativistic emotions. For this reason, Vernarth naughty importunates this metaphysical precognition, alluding to particles that generate dissimilar inclinations in lapses until reaching the threshold from when Stratonice partially divided its material and spiritual origin into stationary diversity, in meditated phases that will not take place nuclear, but in the polymathy of its exteriorized threshold, and of the emotional mass of its free and passionate matter that concerns its strident and impalpable Macedonian origin.

From this moment on, the intuition corresponds to the angular reinforcement of "Poielípsis", in this way the coordinate of the Souls of Trouvere becomes present, as pseudo images of the Diadochi, involving magnetized radial movements that will lie in the spheres of physical value., in the garb of the Gerakis and Petrobus, who strived in the sense of the energeia of the Epsilon neologism, not to restrict themselves as Aristotle affirms, investigating the being towards a mono-sense in this causal, of such alpha that it says the paradoxical, demonstrating the diversity of optics. Faced with this diatribe Vernarth from the naturalness decides to empower Souls that are part of both topics according to Vernarth, it is to alleviate the potentialities of the acts that apprehend the light of genius that coexists with both. What the entity justified us in unfolding will be delivered by divine intelligence, so as not to reduce the free power of the Epsilon that was extracted in the welcoming presence of Stratonice still withdrawn in the atmosphere of the Voielípsis (substitute scale of relativistic emotions of Vernarth). There are few seconds that can be extended more from a selective argument of trends in the specifications, which could be attributed to dimensions of the Trouvere period of souls, lacking stillness in simulated biological environments, as if they deliberate the naturalness of an expression of who It does not philosophize if something has to detach itself or grab hold of creation to privilege the natural, re-arguing affection when professing, if there is time to express it, so it is intuited what the virtue of muttering simultaneously in the laborious, and in what does not progress. The dynamics of this Poielípsis is to dress the Voielípsis, as an analogous addition of quantum causality and of temporal and timeless Christianity, since it supports a conjugate mix deified by Saint Thomas Aquinas, heading towards the prop in the mega absorption of Christian Aristotelian ideals. The souls of Trouvere will be residents of the indeterminate spiritual mechanics, to deposit effects of the incredulous versatility in themselves, in the sub-aquatic depths that coexist with the geological structure of the cavern of San Juan Apóstol, but in subterranean concomitance, under the same axial coordinate that is sustained sub-geological. Namely; They will coexist as long as the Mandragoron of the Duoverso and its Voielípsis are established, but three hundred and eight meters from its antipode in the underwater base of the Profitis Ilias.

The antithetical line is the verifiable germinability of those vertical events of the plinth settled by the Souls of Trouvere, containing the germinable starch of the growth of the ergonometric stirrup of the Zefian Bolt, which from zero elevation to 308 meters above the Aegean level will form a mega extra parapsychological bilocation, which will be gestated in its uniform vertical chronological numbering, with the pre-Christian Pythagorean and post-Christian representation in the coronation of Carlo Magno, mentioned in royal visions by the Apostle Santiago, in the versant apology of Pythagoras as an entity supra divine, envisioning the scenographic depository, and fragmentability of these three components of this start of the Hellenic Magna in the hydrographic, sub-terrestrial geological and residential basin of the Souls of Trouvere.
The upholstery of the Pythia of Herófila attacks the subtended of the flying buttress that supported the volcanic cavities of the Sub-Patmos, indicating its agreement with the Souls of Trouvere by its disoriented cognitive dissonance, generating paradigms that traced stones that formulated Aquarian sounds, in a dominant tonality by the minuscule machine of light, more distant from the incommensurability that escaped eclipsed in the resplendent major note that becomes monarchical by the hypotenuse of a rectangle in three subdominant angles. This brings about the thaumaturgy of Pythiais, the mother of Pythagoras who, together with Vernarth's Poielípsis, forge retentive songs given the scarce natural light that was only born from some of Trouvere's souls called Poielípsis, in stories of the oracular Delphians. The Poielípsis remains encapsulated from the thaumaturgy of the banal anti-desires that would make it mortal, for a hypotenuse that makes the gift of poetic prayer tangible, prompting the Bio axiom, by fertilizing scaled suspicions of repeated mortality in the banner of risk. Stratonice well points it out:

“The signal field has been prophesied today for the Apollo tripod. Having to reencause itself in three parts of the support of the oracles, and in clairvoyance in the pre and post Christian insemination of the gift of the word that redeems man from sin, sub-tenant of the flying buttress, from the interface of the supra trinity of sin as a blood element, and difficult to evade or avoid. Here the Hegemonic energy of Alexander the Great has been condensed in the arch of ideas, pointing out that the diseased body of Antiochus; my father…, is supplanted by that of the to happen all the trances and difficulties that are assumed after the hazardous departure in Babylon. Therefore he has to bring all the corollary prophesied in the death of my grandfather Seleucus in the hands of Ptolemy Ceraunos. Wanting to dress up the irrevocable interference that occurred in Judah by his Diadocos gangs, opting for the effect of his offspring, therefore on his spiritual stretch of energetic residual and static mass, ad libitum that will end when unleashed in his son. All will already be consumed in the pathogenic body of Antiochus, and of the love for my mother where she was abducted, and possessed she sees by retaliation from Alexander the Great for proven insubordinate ethical demands. "

Stratonice walks with the sendal that should be translucent by Santiago of Compostela. As an intra-everlasting geometric raconto, subduing fears that slide through the sendal of the dogma of the architrave, where no philosophy can look higher if it is not allowed, typical of vegetarianism or freedoms that turn green in fears that do not illuminate life. eternal, perhaps from the same Matematikoi who doubts a basis for Adfinitas, to understand limitless limits, taking Pythagoras to the soil of Crotona. Always, someone who is ignored of the linguistic power, he plans to rewind spheres that still weave crossed angles, placing himself in scores to consider as an irreplaceable past. The soul of Poielípsis adopted a Pythagorean conception, in the halters of the livid legions of Orpheus, as if it were his consecrated hypogeum where the high position was, to stir to the embankment where it will merge with the Zefian arrow. This liquefaction should purify all storage of cognitive and circumscribes of those ancestral, becoming reincarnable pre-Christians, who transmigrate in the need of osmosis of universal unity. Atonal music will transmigrate molecules to great sidereal distances, being the same replica of the other eurythmic, in multi-trigonometric periods, vivifying the fractional number residues as souls of the same numeral that finally perish of Pythagorean digits, perhaps at the angles of the Phalanxes of Vernarth or in the oblique crucial moment that slumbers in an elegy, flourishing in those beings that do not Live...! Already under-treated, they will only be souls tired of keeping themselves alive and deprived of their morbidity, in a dissociated cause of immortality that will distance itself from the forbidden abstinences, in liberating exercises of any count that ponders in the coming etymology of the Vita Pythagorae, on the divan of the joys of serving his doctrine, which saves himself, and which will save the Messiah, for those who in the soul have no sacrifice of a lamb that grazes..., nor on the pedestal that goes ahead in the centuries..., pasturing what nobody was capable of ?. The second triad of the oracle of Apollo of the Souls of Trouvere reveal Charles the Great, favored by the Apostle Santiago for the protectorate of Compostela and its spiritual regency, invited Charlemagne from Aachen, in 33 consecutive years of dispute with swords, stating that the Saxons never complied with the treaties and signed surrenders. Charlemagne placed himself at the head of his army on several occasions to fight with his sword against the Saxon danger, also entrusting the troops to the counts when other matters required his presence.

In the second segment of the concave wasteland of the straight ascendant of Trouvere, he crowned Charlemagne emperor of Rome and the Franks, predicted by the Apostle James, in defensive papal struggles and in defense of Christianity. In this paradigm it appears how they are transmitted from the dead ungraspable world, they unite here in the axon of Poielípsis for the sake of the times that occur due to the anonymity of a silence that augured to link, and to know within what the endless intrinsically organic movement is, as well as the biological cosmos in the discovery of the Jacobean route. In what better region than the Dodecanese, he will be fused by twelve apostles, and now the brother of the son of Zebedee; Santiago brother of Saint John the Apostle. Dating back to 778 AD, spreading to Hispania. In the ****** and constant fight against the Saxons, Carlo Magno, entered Hispania crossing the Pyrenees, as a preview of the aforementioned Jacobean Route, everything raged witnessing their overwhelmed squares in the fueros of the Trouveres, who were Pythagorean elite soldiers, who had been bilocated in this post was Christian, preceded by the perfidious Basque in the forests, subsisting separated right here from the progenitors of the Trouvers, who claimed to be the strongest to continue them to Pamplona with Charlemagne. All escaped from Islam, and not a few Christians resented this affront, the dynamics will be reflected in the Songs of the French Gesta, to enter the Jacobean Route on the way to Santiago de Compostela, when the Calixtino Codex, in its book IV o Historia Turpini, the apparition of the Apostle Santiago to Charlemagne is told in dreams, pointing to the Milky Way as a way to find his tomb, which must free them from the Saracens to be able to venerate their relics with the enamels and medallions that they issued in the Apostle's crypt in Compostela. The souls of Trouvere, are beings that enjoyed a short life in the Pyrenees, they enjoyed the fortune of originating a liberator of post-Christian inheritances, mechanized by the exquisite citation of Pythagorean antiquity, behind indigo faded in red blood cells, to dress the sendal of the figure of Faith, freed behind those who should have dressed her as a Codex Calixtinus.

Five sections rose along the straight line of the Trouvere pyramidal axon, the base of the liturgical appendix that honors the multidimensional space, with antiphons for the cult of Carlo Magno on the underlying Patmos. Santiago was lacerated in the Holy Land far from his Brother Apostle Saint John, but he came to meet with the Trouveres who came from the rugged Pyrenees. Santiago passed the Strait of Gibraltar and reached Padrón, which is about 20 kilometers west of Santiago de Compostela; there some angels took him to the place where he actively rests. In a boat he arrived..., and always by the Mediterranean he will now reach Patmos, still acquiring the iconography that attempts to find Charlemagne, and a codex that would unite pre-Christians like Pythagoras and Aristotle united in the relic of the taxpayers transformed into three maritime rivers, concerned with a predicted belligerent episode, to say that all roads lead to Patmos, like Locus Sanctus, of all the shepherds who heal their sheep in which they are not of others that are populated with souls white, for the good of others. Thus the souls of Trouvere from the Pyrenees revealed themselves as predecessors of the raiding of the shells 308 meters below the Profitis Ilias, in agreement with Stratonice who would be arriving in Macedonia, where the passing of the centuries would tell him about the Jacobean Route instructed in confronts, and concordances with the airones of the Trouvere, protected by a rectangle in three subdominant Pythagorean angles in the dissipated darkness of the golden indigo of Theoskepasti, in the meridian of Kímolos.
Poielipsis Souls of Trouvere
Sukanya Basu Nov 2012
Its hard to believe to listen to
The sound of silence through layman's ears
For silence,an unestablished thought
Rides the young hearts only through fear.
Maturity, an understanding through beneath
Sediments like evils srata
For if you conquered,it only leads
To the sound of silence,every data.
For as we stare, me and words together,
Silence redeems through the pages
Every drop of ink forever
Can spell the words through all the ages.
The silence that lingers between
Begs me to hear it closer
Its trying to express the unwanted enclitic
The words that will fade never.
And now as i cherish this conversation of silence,
I realize that ink has a spirit
And to know the mistake i have committed
Which on my face like a bright light lit.
And to know the spectacular reason
I'm astonished myself, i must say
Ink helps us when we are not thinking
Flowing on paper without delay.
This sound of silence that i have gathered now,
Must be of great help all through my life
It will let me hear all those unsound-able things
And help me to decide when to stab a knife.
Through my youth scores, a bunch of thirty
Led me through a rugged terrain,
And now i want a plain surface with lots of pleasure
To lead a life, to be truly sane.
The sound is like a hand i want
Which helps me to walk in young years
Through the blasphemy, through humanism
It will strike away all my fears.
Does one realize that i said
The words of silence through every phase
The crumb of bread a beggar needs
The food of life heaven feeds?
They can't be realized by screaming though oceans,
They can't be realized by ending a story
For they are the curse of hearing unknown thoughts,
The sound of silence one and only.
My heart beats are frantic now,
As i have reached the harmonics of music,
Sweet and presentable they are now
Tapping your life like your feet.
They are many fellows who can't sing
So they make you suffer the sound of silence
With every teardrop longing for supper
Fighting their way through all the violence.
For those who have a great voice
It doesn't mean that they have to be proud,
For it may break any time
Like breaking a stone, like rumbling of clouds.
And i may not be an instrumentalist
And i may not be a teacher,
But i can stop the silence and let them hear music
And make them smile, not to suffer.
Valentine Mbagu Aug 2013
The understanding of the stewardship of time calls attention to the accountability of time.
The knowledge of time management promotes the accomplishment of God's purpose for man.
The understanding of the time enhances the fulfillment of life ambitions on earth.

Learn to number the days while applying the heart unto knowledge;
knowing any time wasted cannot be regained.
Redeeming the time demands the knowledge of time management,
acknowledging the fact that the time is short.
Understanding the time curbs procastination in every area of life;
knowing that procastination is the killer of destinies.

Be accountable for the time spent with the understanding we cannot turn back the hands of time.
Be conscious of the time spent with the knowledge that time is man's greatest treasure.
Beware of the time spent with the knowledge that time waits for no man.

Let us seek to understand the time while applying the heart unto knowledge.
Let us strive to redeem the time knowing the days are evil.
Let us struggle to fulfil the time while our mission on earth lasts.

Who then can understand the time,
knowing every minute counts.
Who then can redeem the time,
knowing the days are evil.
Who then can fulfil the time,
knowing we are governed by time.

He that acknowledges the time can understand the time.
He that understands the seasons can redeem the time.
He that comprehends the mystery of time can fulfil the time.

Let him that seek to understand the time,
seek the counsel of counsellors.
Let him that seek to redeem the time,
strive to understand God's purpose for man.
Let him that seek to acknowledge the time,
Struggle to heed the principles of time.

What then is the reward for understanding the time?
What then is the reward for redeeming the time?
What then is the reward for fulfilling the time?

He that understands the time will accomplish God's purpose for man.
He that redeems the time will make a difference in his world.
He that acknowledges the time will achieve life ambitions on earth.

Hope you find time out of every time,
knowing we all seek to redeem the time.

Time is a Treasure not a Leisure.
Kam Yuks Jul 2013
The beginning of a new day, I want to be positive.  I don’t want to think about festering wounds that become overrun with infection due to a lack of self-care and bad hygiene.

I want to change my thoughts. I want to recognize them for what they are, fleeting and neutral before I trap them within the musty wharf of my psyche.

I want to believe in a god.  I want to believe that something is somewhere that can redeem the involuntary nature of existence. Something that balances the horror of ******, starvation, and ****; or the parents of a missing child who are later asked to identify the only remains found – a decapitated body eerily preserved by the abnormally frigid temperatures lingering long after the advent of spring.  

I want to know beauty as much as I know disgust.  What redeems the isolated ending of someone that no one will ever remember?  What justifies the lives of those who knew nothing but defeat, who weren’t heard, or who suffered the rejection of humanity in spite of the deep desire to feel accepted?  Save us from existing without ever knowing the victory of achieving an intended goal with self-will and perseverance.

What about the countless numbers of lives that have been extinguished and buried in mass graves.  How many people die that will never be remembered…  What meaning does life have then?  Were they here to be recalled as an obscure number?  Their whole life of memories – hope, fear, love, hate, despair, dread, loneliness, doubt, guilt, shame, and unique personality traits - all to be remembered as one of the many who are not remembered.  

Why must I fool myself to find contentment? Not everyone is able to see the silver lining. Must I only know the defeat of a man who could not overcome the prison of thoughts in his mind?

Do not mourn me because of a lost familiarity.  If that is all I am then you will forget me soon enough.
Sara L Russell May 2014
Sara L Russell, 17/5/14 00:29am*

I speak, therefore I ****.
Complacent in my seat of ancient learning,
  I can and will
undo your fragile notions,
your vapid little dreams;
I'll pierce your ego with a word.
  Your ego is absurd.

I sleep in blameless peace.
Reclining on my cloud of contemplation,
  I can and do
lampoon your trite devotions,
tug on their fraying seams;
I'll take your confidence away
  with everything I say.

You're weaker than I am,
Regurgitated clichés haunt your writing,
  you know it's true
You wear the same emotions;
no common sense redeems
the foolish things you write
- till I slay them with spite.
Inspired by a war of words between an editor and ex-co-editor of an anthology of poetry. The editor who was dismissed from co-editing wrote a very damning review of said anthology on amazon(dot)com. The original editor was very upset by his words and a battle of counter-reviews began. This poem is a satire of critics in general, especially self-styled poetry critics.
Sara L Russell Sep 2009
Introduction


Burning pages
Blood-red sky
Rage of angels
Days gone by
The Chosen one, with eyes of searing flames
Is opening the book of Living Names....


I


The turning pages tell of lives gone by,
Furled by the one whose eyes are blinding flames;
Hot ashes flutter to the blood-red sky,
Like burning souls of undeserving names.

Where justice fails in life, death compensates:
Rare Mercy brings the angel who redeems,
While cruelty brings down avenging fates,
Even if conscience sleeps throughout our dreams.

The one with eyes of flame sees everything,
His Book of Living Names is always fair;
Yet every page frail as a fledgeling's wing -
Tread carefully if your name is not there.

There are but two volumes: one leads to light,
The other leads to Hell, without respite.



II


He sat in shadows, working through the night;
A scribe writing in words of ****** red,
While brass lanterns imparted sickly light,
As nightmare voices raged inside his head.

And all the names of those forever doomed,
Of future deaths and those of ancient past,
Were on the page, committed and entombed
In holy blood, scarlet and colour-fast.

All those whom God shall cast into the flames,
Unworthy of Heaven's forgiving grace
Are ever here, in this Book of Dead Names -
Named, numbered souls, each one bereft of face.

Thus, all enjoying notoriety
Shall be vanquished in anonymity.



III


Place copper coins over these weary eyes,
Gather my gold around me in the tomb,
Pray overlook transgression, all my lies,
Cradle me unto death, as from the womb.

Bury my silver at my lifeless feet,
Burn sandalwood, utter my name in prayer,
Drench me with nard and hyssop, bittersweet,
Remember me with lilies in my hair.

Pray write me in the Book of Living Names,
God turn thy face from my iniquity;
Spare me the flail, the pit of raging flames,
But let the quiet waters carry me.

Float me upon the Styx when I am gone;
Erase me from the Necronomicon.



NOTES:

This was inspired by some of the startling imagery in The Book of Revelation from the Bible.
My Dear Poet May 2023
father  said
you should
only dream
with open eyes
to see clearly
the rays of lies
dreams are only
made for sleep
not for day
nor light to seek
keep your dreams
beside your bed
and a candle lit
inside your head
keep it there
and keep it where
vision withers
for  no light
redeems or
day delivers
your dreams
once your dead

— The End —