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Aristotle’s arrhythmic articulations
Appeared too apologetic for Aphrodite's amusements
Aroused by antisocial media’s alacritous abundance
Amidst arteriosclerosis and amphibiously obeisant Ophiuchus
Asclepius' ascendance was almost an abortion
Arrested by Apollo’s amorous attempts at aphrodisia
Ambidextrous Artemis’ androgynous appointments
Awakened ancient antipathies accentuating allopathic artifacts
Altercations arose among ambitious acolytes and Athena’s anorexic acidoses
Awkward Adonis actively agonized by alarming aneurysms
Allowed Antigone’s ambivalent armistice an aperture of acceptance  
Appointing an ambiguously appealing additive to the Argonauts
An anaerobic Acropolis arose amidst auto-****** asphyxiations
As Amazonian armpit hair advocates approved artificial insemination
Vernarth says: “I was at the separation of the threshold of Archangelos and Tsambika, where I was introduced to the threshold of sub mythology, which came from a promontory of the high cusp, that intersect the portal of light between Archangelos and Tsambika. There was a great vertical mass of petrified air between the two units, as I approached I saw against the light of one towards the other, the supposed synoptic and optical circumstance of sub-mythology, which makes me the creation that abandoned all of us who have dealt with it all. A life with sword in hand. For this reason, we have not restructured ourselves as a "Creation and Genesis that dwells in the myth of the warrior who is defeated on his war bed, but winner of the war of Life as Peltasts." My democracy is to narrow the steps of credibility towards a narrowing of the resurrection in all and all of us who have never been at peace, by proposing the last energy of daring to follow the triumph of the democracy of the resurrection. Many remain in doubt and waiting, others follow, but the stubborn objection of creation makes us a mere vivifying objective to revive in the exam that writes everything and stores everything more than thousands of lives and scrolls that settle in its proscription Literary”

Replied Apostle Saint John: “The Derveni papyrus was a work in Central Macedonia, 10 km northwest of the Greek city of Thessaloniki, in Macedonia. 226 small burnt papyrus fragments were found, inside a bronze jug that also contained a gold crown and other funerary objects. In the dimension that has been able to instruct, he speaks to us of God and mysticism, but with hidden and allegorical suggestions, moving towards a representative monotheism, we have enough to assert about eloquent quotes from the pre-Socratic philosopher Heraclitus and Orpheus. Being the son of Apollo and one of his muses, Calliope. According to the accounts, when he played his lyre, the beasts would calm down, and the men would gather to hear him and to rest their souls. Thus he fell in love with the beautiful Eurydice and managed to put the terrible Cerberus to sleep when he went down to the underworld to try to resurrect Eurydice. Orpheus was of Thracian origin; In his honor, the Orphic Mysteries were developed, musical rituals quite common in Ancient Greece, of which there is not much information, or their sources are not known”

Eurydice replies: “I read Orpheus's verses on his lips, which at length encouraged me, eager to hear more, but Orpheus turned off the lights of my curiosity, putting hidden ideas and allegories that crossed my doubts like ghosts that crossed before me in this hymn Orphic of Derveni. Orpheus was credited with abilities because with his lyre he was able to poke around with all the most wonderful melodies that humans had allegorically heard. That is how I fell in love with Orpheus and shortly after we were married. But sadly, I died shortly after getting married from a snake bite. Orpheus went into a hidden pain, until it was decided to go down to the very underworld in order to save me. And so it was, he went down to the underworld and once there he tried to take me back. But Hades wouldn't allow us. So Orpheus began to sing for Hades and me, until they appeared before him and allowed Orpheus to be taken away on one condition: He could not look at me until I was completely bathed in sunlight. We did so, and when we went outside Orpheus turned to see me. But he did not realize that one foot had stayed in the shadows so I disappeared into the darkness of the underworld and this time forever. Sad Orpheus perished in battle within a few weeks, but when he died and went to the underworld, he finally managed to be by my side, for life. Now I am in the light of the figurehead of the ship Eurydice, I am and I am the boatswain that watches and I carry this feat in the Vernarth memorial with me in the underworld supporting him. Now I appear for this creation reaching the everlasting preamble, so that in Teambika as a creation of the sub-Mythology in which I figure in this journey, with Vernarth always between we will intervene in the matrices that intersect in Archangelos and Tsambika, as a clear image that is revealed before me, like the perfect figure of perfection recreating itself in the genesis of a Marian world, judging myself to be eternally with the resurrected living”.
Derveni Papyrus
Hal Loyd Denton Jul 2012
The Impress of a Passing Life

In a braided wood a story is being finished one more human life is coming to an end but let us go to the
Forest green and allegorically this tree and its origin is in the great woods of Tennessee so we step
Reverently and quietly as a silent observer but first let us see another forest close to the Atlantic coast let
Us observe anther woodsman as he goes forth to choose a tree for harvest his eye is not as an
Untrained Observer but he knows at a glance what he needs and the tree he wants and how it will serve
Two Purposes first he gathers his prize and hauls it down to the ship yard and sells it to a master
Shipbuilder He knows this woods future he has laid his claim to it he knows it will take time different
Periods of life Times he releases it to the sea it will face many a gale winds on many trade routes
Through the sea but with this experience of many days of hard ship a truly wondrous thing occurs
That ordinary piece of wood has become one of the finest trophies that wood can ever know yes those
Arduous hard crossings of many waters strained the wood gave it a depth of character its lines showed
The long days at sea it was a beauty that was rare and uncommon he purchased this same wood he sold
Those years before he took it and made a table that would be a glory to his home there is a divine
Woodsman that works in this same way step again into the woods silence greets you to the unfamiliar
Observer all seems the same all trees are the same you set listening to the birds and creaking of the
Limbs and then you notice that one of the trees has a mark on it with little bit of thought you realize
The tree is marked for harvest you fail with every attempt to see why it was chosen you see we don’t
Have the keen eye to see worth dimensions promise that has come to full identity in a life they are
Just a brother an uncle a brother-in-law the master seeking unique gifts for his dwelling cast his eye
Among earth's family when he finds that which has reached perfection then he brings it to himself
Those in this circle of life are stunned left with misgivings has He ever done a mean or cruel deed
No only those acts of special grace that defy exclamation he takes from us tender and gentle roots
Builds them into glorious golden illuminations that shine with such brightness that we are astonished
Material we had in common bond that gave to us riches He has raised them to the heights now they are
The shinning gifts that beckon us to our sweetest tomorrow so good by my fair prince as we knew and
Loved as a boy and as a man and now you are bequeathed to us in promise as he has become we to
have that noble promise we shall live again and always in the fathers presence
WARNER BAXTER Dec 2014
TO PONDER POSSIBILITY
AND POSTULATE PROBABILITY
SOCIALLY SIMMERED SO SARCASTICALLY
TO SANCTIMONIOUS UNCERTAINTY

THEN RENDERING A RECIPE RANDOMLY
INTO IRRATIONAL IMPOSSIBILITY
MIXED TO THE MAXIMUM MALICIOUSLY
MORONIC MINDS OF MINIMUM MORALITY

ABANDONED ABRUPTLY WITHOUT ACCOUNTABILITY
FALSELY FIGURED AND FORGOTTEN  FUNDAMENTALLY
REPUGNANTLY REMEMBERED RESPONSIBILITY
HOPELESSLY HELPLESS HOMOLOGICALLY

WITHOUT SHAME OR SENSIBILITY
NO HONOR NOR HUMILITY
PRIDE OR PERSONALITY
ISSUE OR INTEGRITY

NO UNDERSTANDABILITY
READING RELUCTANTLY
WRITTEN WOEFULLY
SANE OR INSANITY
C Jacobine Nov 2013
Stop reading, I tell you;
there is no resolution coming.
Only laments and curiosities,
incursions into the soulless depths of mesonoxian thunder,
maybe a note on the desirability of warm socks,
but no satisfaction.  

Don't expect a mournful awakening,
nor deliberate (or otherwise) profundity.
-disregarding the note on warm socks, of course-

I have given you warning, and if you continue,
the burden of  exploration falls on you,
for consideration is the ferry to insight,
of which this text is built strictly without.

The boatman may ask that you pay with your wisdom
and refuse those that have no treasures to offer.
Would that not be the most desirable life?
Where we live to learn and when we have,
the boatman ferries us into the undying waters?

And those refused must wander and wonder
why they were excluded, where wisdom is birthed,
realizing that they are exactly as intelligent as they work to become,
to which the boatman might say, "Welcome aboard.  Tell me more."

Allegorically speaking, this notion is nonsense.
Metaphorically speaking, completely absurd.
Practically, it's practically insane,
though actively, it is inanely preferred.

Alternative to apathy and pageantry,
wherein the boatman has empathy for those without wealth.
There is no true truth, only real observation,
so stop trusting my judgment and go create it yourself
Gabriel Jul 2017
Allegorically reminisce hoping that which is precious still is
Holding tightly to levitating memories beyond constant bliss

How does grey matter of such complexly infinite design
Manifesting utter happiness to guttural sadness at one time

Causing souls to teeter a precipice of their sanity's destruction
While many souls live a blessed life of nothing but love and fun

Where does that vital chemistry strike such a mortal divide
From melancholy breeze to an explosive raging tide

Sensation like riding ever-turbulent oceans with no keel
Listless souls are trapped in tug-a-war of how to feel

Looking far and wide for a proper life course correction
Hoping some day the endless voyage can finally be done
ConnectHook Sep 2020
Q has infiltrated the infiltrators.
Uniting US in conspiracy.
WWG1WGA
I know, because Q told me I needed to know.
You are Q.
Because Q is no one
and no one is everywhere.
Q is the code AND the decryption algorithm.
You believe Q ? So what.
The DEMONS believe Q...
and they tremble.
Blood and fire await those
who spurn Q's boundless mercy.

Q has so subtly crept into your consciousness that YOU, foolish one, think Q is a groundless conspiracy theory,
thus validating and acknowledging Q's presence
in your inner sanctum.

Q knows who you are and where you live before you lived there.

Q shall do exceedingly and abundantly beyond all that Q can conceive.

Prepare to take up arms for Q (apocalyptically).
Clean your weapons and load extra magazines (metaphorically).
Sharpen your combat knives and prepare to strike (symbolically).
Hide the explosive charges and set the timers (allegorically).
Slay all who oppose Q
and fill the midnight graves
with their twitching corpses (emblematically).
Cleanse the nation of all corruption (spiritually).

We await Q's dictates
unto death and beyond.


(Q taught Q's mother-in-law EVERYTHING she knows.)
Please hit "like"
and subscribe to Q

Discount on Q swag, Q merch and Q bling with discount code PQRST666

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8zvttzEYD8
Àŧùl Feb 6
~~~~~~~
Angel?

In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.

I Called The Girl Out Without Knowing Her Name,
"Hey Young Lady!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I Thought I Saw Despair In Her Amber Eyes & Must Help Her.

The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Called My Captain & Asked, "Do You See A Girl In That Raft?"
The Captain Just Replied Kindly, "Commodore, Get Married,"
I Looked Apprehensive And He Just Said, "There's No Girl."

True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.

Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.

As I Enter My Room Down The Stairs Amazed & Confused,
She Floated There As She Waited By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of Hers And Start To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."

She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.

7 Stanzas of a Beautiful Open-Eyed Dream


Angel Again?

Now I reached the lands again,
Still dazzled and confused I was,
From the encounter with that Angel,
Oh, how she had filled my twilight,
Unable to forget her divinely touch.

Magical touch had enchanted me,
Able to recall it from the voyage,
I stumbled when disembarking,
Oh, it was the first time for me,
My thoughts would last along.

After so many days at the sea,
I planned of bathing properly,
Her illusion tricked me thereto,
Oh how her traces remained on,
Facing mirror, I stood perplexed.

Still unable to accept the reality,
I longed for that night to repeat,
My heart beats Angel in each beat,
Life staged a drama too crazy,
Unwilling to accept the reality.

My body carries the vestiges,
I turn crazier with each bath,
Her lips' traces keep appearing,
Driving me mad is her memory,
God! Bring her to life once more.

I had my powers as a commodore,
I sent for the captain of my ship,
"What bothers you, my commodore,"
And so he asked of me kindly,
Then I told him of her traces.

Smiling he told me yet again,
"I had told you to get married,"
I agreed this time and nodded,
"Alright, search for me a bride,"
Going outside, he smiled plainly.


Angel Surely?

Till Few Months Of Reaching Back,
I Kept Seeing Her Images All Over,
It Drove Me Crazy Her Presence...

Taking Time Out To Search Her Out,
I Went For The Mountainous Path,
It May Cease I Hope These Dreams.

The Horse Made Me Look A Knight,
I Set Out Solo For The Dark Creeks,
It Helped Me Realize My Solo Aim...

Then She Came Into My View Again,
I Prepared For Tackling My Illusion,
It Started Snowing Out Of Nowhere.

Took Me To A Safer Place She Then,
I Was Bewildered Again Once More,
It Was Clearing But She Vanished...

Then On My Way, I Stopped To Rest,
I Looked Around For A Place To Sit,
It Came To My View A Huge Tavern.

Tavern On A Mountain Was Weird,
I Still Went To It Hoping Some Rest,
It Had Appeared Out Of Nowhere...


Angel Illusion?

I Peered Out Of The Room Windows,
I Was In This Desolate Guesthouse,
It Was A Comfortable Rest House,
And Here I Was In Anticipation,
Angel Or Whosoever Was Awaited,
Will She Pop Into My Vision Here Too,
Was It Only A Seasick Mind's Illusion?

Was All That Really Just An Illusion,
Thinking This I Prepared For Bed,
Then I Felt A Flute Was Playing,
Looked Into Sound's Direction,
All I Saw Then Was Foggy Night,
My Own Reflection Was Also Visible,
Slightly If Not Entirely Can Be Seen.

I Recalled The First Night At The Sea,
She Did Appear On The Towed Raft,
A Beautiful Mermaid I Had Seen,
Now I Did Remember It Clearly,
My Face Was No Longer Mine,
Yes It Was The Beautiful face of hers,
She Wasn't Sad As I Did Remember.

She Was Smiling So Very Divinely,
Her Brown Eyes Stared So Cutely,
More Divine Felt She Was Really,
I Thought That It Was So Early,
My Pocket Watch Showed Three,
I Took My Eyes Off And Went To Bed,
Then & There She Was Lying For Me.

I Again Let My Mind Play Games,
Never Did Imagine Turning Mad,
Now I Was Not Feeling As Bad,
Neither I Wanted To Break It,
Nor It Felt Like One Anymore,
This Was The Dream I Loved To Live,
As If The Boon Was Presented To Me.

She Smiled As I Sat On The Bed,
I Asked Her, "Are You Real?"
"Yes, Just As Your Thoughts,"
I Then Just Stared At Her Lips,
She Then Touched Me Again,
Hands As Soft As That Night At Sea,
I Just Felt Like Opposing Her Touch.

I Blankly Smiled And Thought,
'My Thoughts Are Surely Real,'
Then I Just Let Her Guide Me,
The Moon Shone So Bright,
It Just Felt Really So Very Right,
Resigning I Just Let My Illusion Win,
It's Love We Were Sharing, Not A Sin.


Angel Not Again!!!

I Recovered From The Night Again,
She Had Disappeared Once More,
Was She Using Me As A ******???

I was frustrated & also saddened,
My self-control got strengthened,
For I was not a tissue to be used!!!

I have my feelings & my emotions,
Presence and absence torture me,
Ego I had tamed got hurt by now...

I won't let that elusive Angel come,
Questioning I must be her realities,
Illusions will end this time finally!!!

I'll establish an identity of my own,
Dependent I'll not be on the angel,
Was she only a dream & no more???

I had duly asked the aged captain,
To search for a lovely bride very soon,
Oh, so sure I am about afterwards...

I was tailed by the spirit-like angel,
So irritated by her dreary dreams,
On-off, came-gone, again & again!!!

I now would learn to catch angels,
With the plan, I went to the mage,
Should I now learn some spells???

I entered through a dark alleyway,
Was told to visit this strange place,
What comes across - I wondered...

I knocked on the door & she appeared,
Very young she seemed to me now,
Just the age of the angel of dreams!!!

I noticed that she wore a long robe,
So shiny it was silvery like her hair,
Just like the angel of dreams wore...

I rubbed my tired eyes in disbelief,
"Who're you?" I asked very loudly,
"Are you the mage's daughter???"

I wondered for long & she replied,
"Your guess is correct, kind Sailor,"
She beckoned me into the shack...

I set my foot on the wooden floor,
I looked for any sign of the mage,
I want to be set free of the cage!!!

I just thought & thought about it,
But the witch was not to be seen,
Curious I asked, "Where is she???"

"I am my mother," she said calmly,
Perplexed I couldn't say a thing,
My mouth opened once & shut...

I was now about to rise & go away,
But she stopped me with her arms,
"I must show you," so she did say!!!

I did not believe what my eyes saw,
How she changed into the old mage,
Then back into her own daughter???

O I had become confused a lot now,
Why would she transform like this,
I feared if it was actually the angel...


Angel Forever?

Seeing Me Anxious More Than A Lot,
The Old Witch Relented A Little,
She Let Me Breathe Freely,
Back Transformed Into Her Daughter,
She Touched My Forehead,
Then I Realized It Was Sweaty,
Seeing Her Lovely Care I Smiled A Bit.

So She Now Lit Up A Fragrant Incense,
The Incense Seemed So Soothing,
She Then Edged Closer To Me,
Transcendental Wings Were Visible,
She Came Even Closer To Me,
Then The Wings Simply Vanished,
So Traceless As If Never Been There.

It Must Have Been Another Illusion,
The Very Day I Had Set Sail To Sea,
It Was Probably Carrying Over,
Troubling Me Each Non And Then,
In My Wild Dreams, I Had Seen,
True She Could Not Be & Was Not,
In My Life, The Torment Was Written.

Soon I Was Pleading To Her Teary-eyed,
"Please Don't Torment Me, It Hurts!"
She Looked At Me With Affection,
And Said, "But I Truly Love You, Sailor,"
She Advanced Forwards Further,
"Have You Forgotten All Those Nights?
Did You Even Forget The Night At Sea?"

I First Remembered That Night At Sea,
The Night Back At Home Came Next,
I Had Been Seduced By Her Magic,
This Was The Real Picture Every Time,
I was Weak But I Still Felt Warmer,
The Night Ship Feels Like Yesterday,
I Was In Confusion About What To Do.

Her Face Was Transitioning Rapidly,
The Old Mother To Her Daughter,
Her Daughter To That Very Angel,
And Back To The Old Mother Witch,
Her Smile Turned Into Laughter,
The Witch Laughing At My Cries,
Her Face Here Was Contorted A Lot.

She Seemed To Be Struggling A Lot,
As Though Fight Ensued Within,
Soon I Figured It Out By Myself,
First I Must **** The Witch To Help,
So I Looked Around & Grabbed,
The Axe That I Did Spot Lying There,
Spot On I Killed The Witch Right Then.

~~~~~~~
Angel Ultimately?
The saga in her eyes converts into a constant downpour soon after she realized her freedom from the spell of the dark witch, the curse had turned her a prisoner in the evil witch's body.

"Kind Sailor Thank Thee For Freeing Me."
Her Words Reverberating Throughout,
What Wind - What Land - What Sea,
Everywhere Is Her Presence As I Can See,
The Wind Whispers Her Name In My Ear,
Since A Long Long Time Now All I Wear,
Is Her Scent In My Immortalized Memory.

"Will You Stay With Me Forever, Or,
Will You Go Back To The Heavens?"
Though I Really Wanted Her To Stay,
I Love Her And Realize What She Felt,
I Offered Her Freedom And A Choice,
I Was Not Binding Her To Me In Turn,
Everything Was Instinctive For Me.

She Seemed In A Serious Dilemma,
Struggling Hard She Was In Herself,
I Again Offered & Insisted This Time,
"It's Better You Went Back To Your World,"
But I Knew That She Loved Me A Lot,
She Tried Hard Controlling But Said,
"I Am In Love With You For Long."

So I Am Quite Right That She Loves Me,
I Am Sure Even She Can Forget Me Not,
Beading All Our Memories Together,
I Now Know How I Can Gain Salvation,
Not Being Another Self-Centric Tantric,
"But You Don't Belong Here Dear,
So You Shouldn't Restrict Yourself."

After This, She Now Looks Comfortable & Composed,
Ready For Making A Choice She Wore A Heart Of Stone,
Her Lips Slowly Parted Revealing A Perfect Smile,
Pearly Smile Again Ensured Me Of Permanent Happiness,
Bright Eyes And Shiny Eyelids Of Hers Seemed So Good,
"You Can't Make Me Stay Away Because You Love Me Too,
I Will Keep Coming In Your Dreams And Entice Your Nights."

But I Wanted Her In My Real-World Now,
I Prevented Her From Vanishing Again,
I Said, "Please Stay, Now Do Not Go Away,
Because I Really Can Not Bear That Pain,"
She Had Almost Vanished By Then,
Listening To My Words She Chose To Wait,
She Said, "Even I Want Forever To Stay."

Continuing With Her Divine Dialogue She Said,
"Say Those Golden Words To Make Me Stay,"
I Immediately Confessed, "I Love You, Angel,"
"Say You Love Me Too, Oh My Divine Angel,"
She Didn't Wait For Anything More To Say It,
"I Love You Too, Oh My Kind & Loving Sailor,"
Her Powers Soon Left Her In A Flash Of Light.

I sought to allegorically assay my personal life through these 7 poems in “The ‘Angel?’ Saga” that’s an allegory to a significant part of my life.
On public demand, I clubbed The "Angel?" Series into one poem.
L T Winter Apr 2019
I'm cavern crackling
Broke
There's a cistern
That talks

So I hide--
Gregariously behind sunglasses
And tatter-ed hoodies.

As I poison myself
To death
With nothing-
A stream bellows

Emptiness
Masking how numb
The Moon is,

Sunlight sleeps-
Allegorically into time
If a chronomancer
Knew.

My memory was mist
I'd apologise stupidly
And hide my hands to
Show you the complexity
Of pain.

But I'm just
A closed book burning
Blood with
My inability to speak.
Anonymouse Jun 2017
What is reality when my life is a sham?
I do nothing all day but sleep and daze off trying to find hope.
A hope that will drive me to get done what needs my attention.
These assignments stack up like a landfill of dreams and I make them wait until the last minute with procrastinating tendencies.
I constantly ask myself what is real because consciousness is allegorically a state of mind.
I'm in a state where I try to feel, but instead, I am held in this lame *** stand still.
I stand before myself with an unloaded pistol waiting for something... anything.
My life is nonexistent and I am barely present.
When will I awake from this pathetic dream I call reality?
Ken Pepiton May 12
La vita è bella

Hold any taken chance, waiting in mind,
planning action lucidly, clearly seeing through
hoped
t'be once
before, now
t'never was, yet
nor could have been,
justice just for its own sake
right now, only once, now,
but while our minds were
at the circus, ensorcelled,
entranced, as seen on TV
entertained out
of our minds
at the counting fair,
queued up to see the final
quarrel using nukes,
contained
within the mobilized mass
of we, the people, singing jibberish

and raving ecstatic
as early man who had no hell,

joyous nonsensed we shapen cloud, dancing.

But, that's not you, is it?
No time to watch the end of the world.

Life is a chore,
a duty assigned, a calling
to serve the whole, order established,
after pangs of disestablishmentarianism's errors.

Matter made from energy, mind bending
best intended results, except… having

the good sense God gave a green apple.
Return on investment from my grandma.

The aim of all good ideas is beautiful.
The expectant success, seen before being
taken in stride, step after step, to life's end.

Waiting, while meandering in life's realized
library of all we have gained after realizing
knowledge recognized as comforting, really
works in the core chaos knotted dreads real
dim points of light, from the old city on a hill,

a mighty fortress,
a bulwark, never failing,

enlightening the fog of war, beyond which
no life does not reshape its reasoning
weighing machine,
perpendicular pivot balance,
serpentine millipede weform worth…
true balance and jeweled pivots,
silicone slick speeding ion quest…

no hidden meaning, mere idle time revaluation.

Just thinking, adjusting the load,
hard nuts we take to be cracked
at the fire we share.

Be having, rationed good sense,
detecting pattern sequential,
after history is now,
after now is next,
and next, again,
upon comprehension
made ritually exceptionalized,

there is no place like home, the idea…

in traditional stories rebroadcast into
cultural consciousness comfort zone
allegorically religimenting, hope
each winter and spring
summer and fall… working
no need
for pointless pain
or friction unmollified,

golden oil economy of Greece,
illiteracy blissfully believing the noble
stories told and retold, it's a wonderful life.

We can smile, we can hide the horrors of war.
But Art as truth's goad through life, ties

token reminders to hearken when thinking
wishing praying were hopings forseen, just so.

Sleep, and rise and head toward tomorrow.
Watching your steps until you're sure,
from then on
the way is made smooth
blessed assurance, balance is mine

dulling joint effort and toil
freeing hands to manipulate,
fibers and spider's webbing,
in to toys to pay attention to,

seasonal significance literally lost
as the survivors
from past holy terrors refuse
reconfusion, defusing the future bomb.

So, say we let go all our certainties,
waiting absent mindedly
taken up
in mystery religious ligamental nets
of reminding caution, cuidado,]

step lightly.
La vita è bella
For your enjoyment, or mine, same joy in the whole moment
Walter Alter Jun 2023
the paparazzi swarmed all over Einstein
after he said make sure where the rope is tied
before you kick over the chair
he wrote his own scripts now
Further Adventures in Archaeo-Astronomy
tonight the constellation Vertigo
a place of no equilibrium
a hell of uterine contractions
even though his head was elfin
a little bone crushing ceremony
and bingo you are out on bail
I didn't mean to hurt anyone went the 911 call
they finally brought him down with magnets
the dilemma meters were going purple
only minutes away from a fatal lap dance
that could blacken the portals of infinity
hauled before the cosmic court of opinion
sentenced to prompt and urgent expungement
they failed to contend with the absurdity
of Al's relativistic social barometer
smuggled in by a derelict ex-stockbroker
his obsidian blade plunged like a fang
into the bailiff's waiting eyes
and the jury of inflatable *** dolls
made obnoxious leaking air sounds
until all that was left was a talking skull
divulging Al's General Theory of Anathema
flip the law of averages on its back
and your troops are in the citadel
paradise being a system of payoffs
on the origin side of the lens
yes the light is tricky in there
images fall feebly on the big screen
Al's life was now a gravitational anomaly
no plot no narrative no story
he was ready to sack a city
his Igor hissed let's asteroid the planet
but the mouse pad Ouija opened a channel
to the vortex of utter charm
and he stamped and splashed singing
through the seven sewers of humiliation
wearing his we're going to hell pants
with only a mother's love for protection
and managed to lose all his pencils
somewhere between hand and ledger
being that his hands were missing fingers
almost all of them actually
lost in a departmental budget cut
allegorically left him all thumbs
unleashing a pandemonium of vague redemption
it was a close shave but Earth was saved
Ken Pepiton Jul 9
Stories, reports from wars past, haunt me,
in spirit sensing wondering,
perplexing twisted strands
from National histories
kept for posterity, seen as certain
evidence of life being as reasonless
as distant suns in swirling galaxies.

The business of making ends meet,

make any punctual sense, ends now.

------------------

Dear, the word, intends
to express worthiness, valued

by cost, not
to make or gain the dear thing, but
by pain
at the loss,

remembering reason,
reattaching whole
required why lines, dangling

Among the many joys,
eudaemonia, silliness in the sense lost

nine cousin romps in the lawn sprinklers,

secrets sacralized sold
for students tempted so,

sacred vow bound logic

-
mid-14c., logike, "branch of philosophy that treats of forms of thinking;
the science of distinction of true from false reasoning,"
-

Refine elemental whying, trying, taking
for good, leaving
as worthless but
for marking
in mind, poisonous deception

Games of getting to the perfect peace,
having no driving curiosities or prides,

mystic authority granted me, poetically,
costly so-called sciences, I am, by faith,

for which homeostasis is the reason, ready,
balance of energy store and energy conversion

self guided discovery, so deep is one's ignorance,
self sorting discourses through mortal events, time
since e verily was allegorically massively imaginable

at thought sped enlightenment intended
to disrupt rote thought, symbol assignments
and general intelligence deceptive practices,

the bread and butter of the business of Psyche,
logic by which mankind live and learn and lead
those yet to be to become augmented generally
intelligent choosers of values… versus costs, price

personal, what portion of one's daily bread is paid,
back by me, the muse user enjoying being alive,
and safe, high in the coastal foothills environs,
practically perfect weather for happy humans,

gatherers more than hunters,
crafters more than manufacturers,
traders more than sellers or buyers,

but lacking religion, woe is them, indeed, if
all the witnesses to Hell, sent back to spare us,
perdition due the ignorance of original foul sin,
are not exalting their knowledge of damnation,
against the sacred knowledge of good and evil.

Live evil lurks in mere repetitioning prayer error.

Hooks in Jim Morrison's oevre, say… you cannot

imagine a reality without disgusting disdain for order,

order, in the court… witness under oath testing if we
agree, this is the ever we got this morning, as we rose

from slumber… we, thee linking me… in mind, inspired
thought, amused bemusement refusing confusing truths,

God loves Hell, love's it, or…

blasphemy, accuse me, gospel performer professional,
j'cuse, indeed. Did I dare to die for the American Story,

Home of the free, Land of the brave, oh, say, can you,
remember the first hand grenade WHUMP! can you,

not mirror neurologically callused startle response wise,

real deal, dead people, blood, smells, smoke, silence,
deaf deal with it… accept

therapy, publish, or perish, laugh and live free in truth,

not simple, but sub-elementally perfectly sublime

---------
The news from my future,
is mentally actively spiritually leading,

holding my circumstantial ordinariness,

spending a lifetime to reach one last day,
which can, we may imagine, be any day.
---------

Meaning in landmarks set as scenes,
who imagines whose mind's lost all hope,

who can, as a God-fearin' man, *** boy, cowboy,
drifter with a gift of gab and a deck of cards,
declare 'is whole soul forfeit, should he lie.

Bet me I did not beat my own demons, just
now, for the rest of my life, on the most likely last

day, I spend this way, like it were that very one.

The day called Judgement day, same  size day
as those in that original week, rest assured. What?

Obfuscation, cultural integrity, opposing
the holy Pharisees of mutual warring wills.

---------------------

In word form, as a thought, logic is open
seeping sneaking suspicions suggesting surety,
has an am big is us re-both-knowing ness spirit form
for a ready reader, list as doth the spirit, sure hot
wind in a gape jawed face, asking if this may be real
as has been realizable
since commercial radio, propagating productive
personal mysterious
signals sent via zeitgeist,
which reasserts itself, prodigious certainty of purpose,

what do I wish, what do we wish, we, with us in it, me
and you wishing we felt some fealty due the heroic me…

what if expressing a self, molded military mind model,
in a complex religious mystery granted symbols just as

right angled and perpendicular to gravity, per se

timely, chance, definite purpose, be as good as truth,

no harm, no foul, patiently pretending toward goodness,
as do little green apples, and children in my vicinity, true,

all the children in my house, and yard today, are good,
universal attestations, any ever experiencing, such a July,
presume these kids are as happy as can be, today
where I happened just to be, he who chose
to stick and stay and make it pay, by faith
some how, kindalike an intuition,
by now, this'd be real, an actual poetic privilege,

the truth that once the best that I could think or ask, a day,

whole, no ritual mass or mirror mantra back atcha, one day,

surrounded by children, literally running around my house,
and squealing little girl laughter at little boys rolling in mud.
I truly hope you know just how I feel, but as the old man, the actual experience, aim at that, I told my self, when I decided HelloPoetry works as well as therapy.

— The End —