Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run,
Along Morea’s hills the setting Sun;
Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light;
O’er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws,
Gilds the green wave that trembles as it glows;
On old ægina’s rock and Hydra’s isle
The God of gladness sheds his parting smile;
O’er his own regions lingering loves to shine,
Though there his altars are no more divine.
Descending fast, the mountain-shadows kiss
Thy glorious Gulf, unconquered Salamis!
Their azure arches through the long expanse,
More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance,
And tenderest tints, along their summits driven,
Mark his gay course, and own the hues of Heaven;
Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep,
Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep.

  On such an eve his palest beam he cast
When, Athens! here thy Wisest looked his last.
How watched thy better sons his farewell ray,
That closed their murdered Sage’s latest day!
Not yet—not yet—Sol pauses on the hill,
The precious hour of parting lingers still;
But sad his light to agonizing eyes,
And dark the mountain’s once delightful dyes;
Gloom o’er the lovely land he seemed to pour,
The land where Phoebus never frowned before;
But ere he sunk below Cithaeron’s head,
The cup of Woe was quaffed—the Spirit fled;
The soul of Him that scorned to fear or fly,
Who lived and died as none can live or die.

  But lo! from high Hymettus to the plain
The Queen of Night asserts her silent reign;
No murky vapour, herald of the storm,
Hides her fair face, or girds her glowing form;
With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams play,
There the white column greets her grateful ray,
And bright around, with quivering beams beset,
Her emblem sparkles o’er the Minaret;
The groves of olive scattered dark and wide,
Where meek Cephisus sheds his scanty tide,
The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,
The gleaming turret of the gay kiosk,
And sad and sombre ’mid the holy calm,
Near Theseus’ fane, yon solitary palm;
All, tinged with varied hues, arrest the eye;
And dull were his that passed them heedless by.
Again the ægean, heard no more afar,
Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war:
Again his waves in milder tints unfold
Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold,
Mixed with the shades of many a distant isle
That frown, where gentler Ocean deigns to smile.

  As thus, within the walls of Pallas’ fane,
I marked the beauties of the land and main,
Alone, and friendless, on the magic shore,
Whose arts and arms but live in poets’ lore;
Oft as the matchless dome I turned to scan,
Sacred to Gods, but not secure from Man,
The Past returned, the Present seemed to cease,
And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece!

  Hour rolled along, and Dian’******on high
Had gained the centre of her softest sky;
And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod
O’er the vain shrine of many a vanished God:
But chiefly, Pallas! thine, when Hecate’s glare
Checked by thy columns, fell more sadly fair
O’er the chill marble, where the startling tread
Thrills the lone heart like echoes from the dead.
Long had I mused, and treasured every trace
The wreck of Greece recorded of her race,
When, lo! a giant-form before me strode,
And Pallas hailed me in her own Abode!

  Yes,’twas Minerva’s self; but, ah! how changed,
Since o’er the Dardan field in arms she ranged!
Not such as erst, by her divine command,
Her form appeared from Phidias’ plastic hand:
Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,
Her idle ægis bore no Gorgon now;
Her helm was dinted, and the broken lance
Seemed weak and shaftless e’en to mortal glance;
The Olive Branch, which still she deigned to clasp,
Shrunk from her touch, and withered in her grasp;
And, ah! though still the brightest of the sky,
Celestial tears bedimmed her large blue eye;
Round the rent casque her owlet circled slow,
And mourned his mistress with a shriek of woe!

  “Mortal!”—’twas thus she spake—”that blush of shame
Proclaims thee Briton, once a noble name;
First of the mighty, foremost of the free,
Now honoured ‘less’ by all, and ‘least’ by me:
Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found.
Seek’st thou the cause of loathing!—look around.
Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,
I saw successive Tyrannies expire;
‘Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth,
Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both.
Survey this vacant, violated fane;
Recount the relics torn that yet remain:
‘These’ Cecrops placed, ‘this’ Pericles adorned,
‘That’ Adrian reared when drooping Science mourned.
What more I owe let Gratitude attest—
Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest.
That all may learn from whence the plunderer came,
The insulted wall sustains his hated name:
For Elgin’s fame thus grateful Pallas pleads,
Below, his name—above, behold his deeds!
Be ever hailed with equal honour here
The Gothic monarch and the Pictish peer:
Arms gave the first his right, the last had none,
But basely stole what less barbarians won.
So when the Lion quits his fell repast,
Next prowls the Wolf, the filthy Jackal last:
Flesh, limbs, and blood the former make their own,
The last poor brute securely gnaws the bone.
Yet still the Gods are just, and crimes are crossed:
See here what Elgin won, and what he lost!
Another name with his pollutes my shrine:
Behold where Dian’s beams disdain to shine!
Some retribution still might Pallas claim,
When Venus half avenged Minerva’s shame.”

  She ceased awhile, and thus I dared reply,
To soothe the vengeance kindling in her eye:
“Daughter of Jove! in Britain’s injured name,
A true-born Briton may the deed disclaim.
Frown not on England; England owns him not:
Athena, no! thy plunderer was a Scot.
Ask’st thou the difference? From fair Phyles’ towers
Survey Boeotia;—Caledonia’s ours.
And well I know within that ******* land
Hath Wisdom’s goddess never held command;
A barren soil, where Nature’s germs, confined
To stern sterility, can stint the mind;
Whose thistle well betrays the niggard earth,
Emblem of all to whom the Land gives birth;
Each genial influence nurtured to resist;
A land of meanness, sophistry, and mist.
Each breeze from foggy mount and marshy plain
Dilutes with drivel every drizzly brain,
Till, burst at length, each wat’ry head o’erflows,
Foul as their soil, and frigid as their snows:
Then thousand schemes of petulance and pride
Despatch her scheming children far and wide;
Some East, some West, some—everywhere but North!
In quest of lawless gain, they issue forth.
And thus—accursed be the day and year!
She sent a Pict to play the felon here.
Yet Caledonia claims some native worth,
As dull Boeotia gave a Pindar birth;
So may her few, the lettered and the brave,
Bound to no clime, and victors of the grave,
Shake off the sordid dust of such a land,
And shine like children of a happier strand;
As once, of yore, in some obnoxious place,
Ten names (if found) had saved a wretched race.”

  “Mortal!” the blue-eyed maid resumed, “once more
Bear back my mandate to thy native shore.
Though fallen, alas! this vengeance yet is mine,
To turn my counsels far from lands like thine.
Hear then in silence Pallas’ stern behest;
Hear and believe, for Time will tell the rest.

  “First on the head of him who did this deed
My curse shall light,—on him and all his seed:
Without one spark of intellectual fire,
Be all the sons as senseless as the sire:
If one with wit the parent brood disgrace,
Believe him ******* of a brighter race:
Still with his hireling artists let him prate,
And Folly’s praise repay for Wisdom’s hate;
Long of their Patron’s gusto let them tell,
Whose noblest, native gusto is—to sell:
To sell, and make—may shame record the day!—
The State—Receiver of his pilfered prey.
Meantime, the flattering, feeble dotard, West,
Europe’s worst dauber, and poor Britain’s best,
With palsied hand shall turn each model o’er,
And own himself an infant of fourscore.
Be all the Bruisers culled from all St. Giles’,
That Art and Nature may compare their styles;
While brawny brutes in stupid wonder stare,
And marvel at his Lordship’s ’stone shop’ there.
Round the thronged gate shall sauntering coxcombs creep
To lounge and lucubrate, to prate and peep;
While many a languid maid, with longing sigh,
On giant statues casts the curious eye;
The room with transient glance appears to skim,
Yet marks the mighty back and length of limb;
Mourns o’er the difference of now and then;
Exclaims, ‘These Greeks indeed were proper men!’
Draws slight comparisons of ‘these’ with ‘those’,
And envies Laïs all her Attic beaux.
When shall a modern maid have swains like these?
Alas! Sir Harry is no Hercules!
And last of all, amidst the gaping crew,
Some calm spectator, as he takes his view,
In silent indignation mixed with grief,
Admires the plunder, but abhors the thief.
Oh, loathed in life, nor pardoned in the dust,
May Hate pursue his sacrilegious lust!
Linked with the fool that fired the Ephesian dome,
Shall vengeance follow far beyond the tomb,
And Eratostratus and Elgin shine
In many a branding page and burning line;
Alike reserved for aye to stand accursed,
Perchance the second blacker than the first.

  “So let him stand, through ages yet unborn,
Fixed statue on the pedestal of Scorn;
Though not for him alone revenge shall wait,
But fits thy country for her coming fate:
Hers were the deeds that taught her lawless son
To do what oft Britannia’s self had done.
Look to the Baltic—blazing from afar,
Your old Ally yet mourns perfidious war.
Not to such deeds did Pallas lend her aid,
Or break the compact which herself had made;
Far from such counsels, from the faithless field
She fled—but left behind her Gorgon shield;
A fatal gift that turned your friends to stone,
And left lost Albion hated and alone.

“Look to the East, where Ganges’ swarthy race
Shall shake your tyrant empire to its base;
Lo! there Rebellion rears her ghastly head,
And glares the Nemesis of native dead;
Till Indus rolls a deep purpureal flood,
And claims his long arrear of northern blood.
So may ye perish!—Pallas, when she gave
Your free-born rights, forbade ye to enslave.

  “Look on your Spain!—she clasps the hand she hates,
But boldly clasps, and thrusts you from her gates.
Bear witness, bright Barossa! thou canst tell
Whose were the sons that bravely fought and fell.
But Lusitania, kind and dear ally,
Can spare a few to fight, and sometimes fly.
Oh glorious field! by Famine fiercely won,
The Gaul retires for once, and all is done!
But when did Pallas teach, that one retreat
Retrieved three long Olympiads of defeat?

  “Look last at home—ye love not to look there
On the grim smile of comfortless despair:
Your city saddens: loud though Revel howls,
Here Famine faints, and yonder Rapine prowls.
See all alike of more or less bereft;
No misers tremble when there’s nothing left.
‘Blest paper credit;’ who shall dare to sing?
It clogs like lead Corruption’s weary wing.
Yet Pallas pluck’d each Premier by the ear,
Who Gods and men alike disdained to hear;
But one, repentant o’er a bankrupt state,
On Pallas calls,—but calls, alas! too late:
Then raves for’——’; to that Mentor bends,
Though he and Pallas never yet were friends.
Him senates hear, whom never yet they heard,
Contemptuous once, and now no less absurd.
So, once of yore, each reasonable frog,
Swore faith and fealty to his sovereign ‘log.’
Thus hailed your rulers their patrician clod,
As Egypt chose an onion for a God.

  “Now fare ye well! enjoy your little hour;
Go, grasp the shadow of your vanished power;
Gloss o’er the failure of each fondest scheme;
Your strength a name, your bloated wealth a dream.
Gone is that Gold, the marvel of mankind.
And Pirates barter all that’s left behind.
No more the hirelings, purchased near and far,
Crowd to the ranks of mercenary war.
The idle merchant on the useless quay
Droops o’er the bales no bark may bear away;
Or, back returning, sees rejected stores
Rot piecemeal on his own encumbered shores:
The starved mechanic breaks his rusting loom,
And desperate mans him ‘gainst the coming doom.
Then in the Senates of your sinking state
Show me the man whose counsels may have weight.
Vain is each voice where tones could once command;
E’en factions cease to charm a factious land:
Yet jarring sects convulse a sister Isle,
And light with maddening hands the mutual pile.

  “’Tis done, ’tis past—since Pallas warns in vain;
The Furies seize her abdicated reign:
Wide o’er the realm they wave their kindling brands,
And wring her vitals with their fiery hands.
But one convulsive struggle still remains,
And Gaul shall weep ere Albion wear her chains,
The bannered pomp of war, the glittering files,
O’er whose gay trappings stern Bellona smiles;
The brazen trump, the spirit-stirring drum,
That bid the foe defiance ere they come;
The hero bounding at his country’s call,
The glorious death that consecrates his fall,
Swell the young heart with visionary charms.
And bid it antedate the joys of arms.
But know, a lesson you may yet be taught,
With death alone are laurels cheaply bought;
Not in the conflict Havoc seeks delight,
His day of mercy is the day of fight.
But when the field is fought, the battle won,
Though drenched with gore, his woes are but begun:
His deeper deeds as yet ye know by name;
The slaughtered peasant and the ravished dame,
The rifled mansion and the foe-reaped field,
Ill suit with souls at home, untaught to yield.
Say with what eye along the distant down
Would flying burghers mark the blazing town?
How view the column of ascending flames
Shake his red shadow o’er the startled Thames?
Nay, frown not, Albion! for the torch was thine
That lit such pyres from Tagus to the Rhine:
Now should they burst on thy devoted coast,
Go, ask thy ***** who deserves them most?
The law of Heaven and Earth is life for life,
And she who raised, in vain regrets, the strife.”

From the depression of the distances with respect to the horizontal and the planes that separated them from the surface, below the references that came against, single sediment had been destined towards the high eminence, before the fossal of megatons of aldehyde below the bilges of the final base, where the seventh rings of the goat ibex were perforated, all in the antipode of the Constellation of Capricornus; where the goats were enraptured in the binary of Wonthelimar, behind the floods of absorption that took the Diadocos far from where they should never have left, in order to extrasolar wishes and never to come. From the node of the supreme and poked aldehyde of the horn of Amalthea, with the bizarre analogy of Zeus and Wonthelimar, both mammals with milk from goat's udders, one from goat from Mount Ida and the other from Aldaine in the Alps, with milk from ibex and In the face of Amalthea that appeared in the fossal, all the Seleucid generals had already vanished, starting from the Viper Typhon, who in the retracting sub-mythology of Capricornus was transmigrated to Wonthelimar, swollen with the aldehyde transmuted into this alcohol and into the udder milk of the Ibix that He lactored, while they were all carried away as in the chambers of Auschwitz, in distant lanterns and lamps of the Calypso that he dismissed them, leaving them with the escorts of the ibex or goatfish in laudable stratagems, which vanished them away from their desires from a new polis or Nostos Patrída, sprinkling them with goatskin and flourishing essences of the kashmar of Zeus' nurse; Amaltheum or Amalthea.

The Iberian rings from the medrones in advance reached the two final ring nodes, here Wonthelimar intimidated them with an accurate adjacent bleat of the kashmar that rubbed their back, before the newest and last lux of Amalthea that vanished into herbaceous fruits that always He carried the barefoot medron with him, to start with the antlers dumbbells and re-transport them defeated to the species of snake that frightened the pastoral god Pan who shepherded, and then he submerged in the water after becoming Capricornus Ibex Fish. Being aware of this and of those who refused to continue listening, Ibics rings were unleashed until the seventh medron, feeding back with Wonthelimar who ad libitum created Venus in triads of Zeus. Wonthelimar and Amalthea were remote in the eighth and ninth medron of the antlers, they appropriated to each the portion of the Parasha or Parashot of the Torah, and of the thirteenth Shemot so that their dualities and fumes from the unbreathable fossa would remain under the possessed surface of the pendular property balance and positive-negative gender correspondence. Right here Amalthea transmuted her mercy to save the world with her lactation of syrup and honey that was not in short supply, and that was extrapolated into a future abundance of food and nectar, making up for crusts that were uneven in average terms. From this bezel, both beings of the goat genome contributed to the pole of goodness for each one at the end of the benevolent cuirassiers of prospering, and not from the opposite that would lead them, even though they were dissimilar causes, towards a retrograde event that was not a consequence of the becoming of the plagues, and of the malignancy that does not flourish with the Shemot of the Parasha, to agree and lavish themselves on blessed virtues or deliberate wicked ones.

The meaning of a relative synchronic and factotum coexisting does not redeem the disintegration of an existential relativism in Skalá, the Hexagonal Primogeniture from one of its angular visions, metaphysically transfers from its temporary contingencies after its arrival on Patmos, while the temporary Seleucid temporality vanishes, It was affirmed from a contradiction since its truth was distended in the arena of Skalá not implying being welcomed, rather it was victimized by the absurd political dimorphism in a meta spiritual state, abdicating its dispersed retrospective, and now contemplating a compromise of the Hellenic genre, to gradually rebuke the virtues of their banners, twice as good for the purpose of reinforcing the will to accede, and not perish in the attempt to lead Alexander the Great. The criticism of founding the memories are of a revived past where it was not, marking the anthropological fact and false truth judgment, in meaning and contradiction in the polarity of both axiomatic genres, but that is saved when quantifying in who has to defend himself, if seeks to abrogate itself, in the entity that is characterized by induction and attraction of egonies and not of exo-egonies, thus describing it in the theme of "Do not support egos that recriminate other characters of frustration and empowerment of a Vernarthian logic split into Vern-narth. Vern has etymology of Bern or Bern olive tree of Gethsemane and narth of the ordinal scale that speculates its nickname in millions of northern sections of its origin, which subsumes the truth and the criterion of apocalyptic parapsychology, re-life of quantum historicity of the metaphysical and sub-block. -Mythological of Vernarth in his identical.

Everything seemed a strange self-annulment from a clear and understandable limit, but Wonthelimar rose to the surface of the Állos kósmos, finding himself in atmospheres of truth and reality of a Cantabile, who decided about the horse Kanti coming with him towing him from the Erebo de Chauvet Bilocated. As a musical and festive ending, he received them on the upper plate of the happened gestures, where a cabaletta rendered parts of a Cantabrian aria, in sulfurous and remorseful cavatina married with the cross emotions of a finale who sponsored expressions and festive Templar tales, with the descendants of Zeus or minor children, or grandchildren after this had to give him milk and honey but with báchkoi. Among the couplets that received him, some came about the smoke of terror that was confused with the dustbin of a Cavallo or horse acclaimed Kanti, with gasping bustling from a cardex, containing all the repertoires of a cantabile if this scene were to be repeated in The same epic allusion, and in random consequences, that go after a cavalcade that is not abstracted in real characters, but more in conformity with the well-deserved place of epic imaginative beings or in the operatic psychotropic of a duet, which would go flagellating in individuality and in each which is not content from another section of the Cantabrian.

The Universality of emotion and feeling is a tragic Parodo emulating voices of all those who sing from a cantabile galloping in their voices to the beat of the heart in some, and at the same time chanting stanzas and antistrophe in reverse epic and tragic lines, for the purposes of the coliseum that diametrically obstructs the Hellenic choir, which is attached to the intervention of the Hexagonal Primogeniture that was already beginning to rise in height, and in the prayers of Saint John, the Apostle and Prochorus from the captaincy and the ode that would begin to stanza, from the west to this and the antistrophe would follow with Vernarth, Wonthelimar and Alexander the Great from east to west. Ad libitum of their enjoyments, they were eating Greek snacks or Katogorias on the way in bases of Almonds, cinnamon, olive oil, sugar, and sweet wine that they carried on their backs in Rhytas shaped like the horns of Zeus and the Ibix of Wonthelimar, which the same Procorus carried on his golden back. The meaning is affirmed as a meaningless infringement of laws of temporality, and truthfulness at the expense of short evidence, and of facts that vanish in the light haze of causalism and not of effectism, when the adjective or noun is made of a strong verb in the Metabasis and in the imprecations that Vernarth gave.

Vernarth's metabasis: “the verse and the adjective will be subsidized by the noun in the construction of Állos Kosmo Megarón, from where mathematics will immaterially explain sap suckers under the noun in liquid milk of the color white and of the high nutritional value in female lactated, and of mammals to feed their goats or ibex. The soul of this prerogative implies that the verb will be to promote species rather than a nutritious milky elixir for Zeus, and the candor of his **** will tend to the bipedal or quadruped subject self-procreating from a Milky Specie. (Milky species).  Being ****** into milk by self-procreating snitches. Vernarth says (give me some milk, and I will be the son of Zeus, perhaps as a means in everything and not a whole of which I never thought...!)

Amalthea in rituals and relics from prospects of demigods was purposely cordoning them off in Mycenaean deities, from a contemporary Westerner comforting them near a hippocampus; with signs of ibex Capricornus, rapt at the nymph that spoke from Mount Ida in Crete and that she made congruent with the constellation of Capricornus, more precisely in the Cornucopia making this heraldry of Wonthelimar with Fortune, Abundance, Occasion, Liberality, Prudence and Joy. In a woman sitting on a throne, a young nymph with a flower crown, a naked woman with one foot on a wheel and the other unstable, a woman with sunken eyes and an aquiline nose dressed in white, two faces from the past and future, a woman happy with the exuberance of the Cornucopia with children and a palm leaf. Being the abundance that in serial Amalthea bordered all the ladies in different esoteric and Mycenaean prosperity, constantly shining with radiations on the present in the Unicorn Ibix, which Zeus left after breaking its antlers, unleashing kindness and plethora in fruit buds, and vegetables that were appropriated in the Fortune of Wonthelimar reissuing what in their domains they can do, and now in Patmos with its Cornupia being transferred from that liquefied shaft honey and milk cultivated with attributes of herbs contributing to the leisure, peace, and relaxation of the cosmic world that ascended in Wonthelimar as Ibix in advance of Capricornus, from where the Auriga always broke into his expeditions with a trajectory towards the eighth cemetery of Messolonghi, where he brought it from the Capella Star for the femurs of the Diplodocuses who seconded Drestnia to watch over the hydraulic pits of the Koumeterium from Messolonghi, before traveling to Tangier.

The entire herd went back to an ancient promontory that was halfway up the mound towards the black styes or abscesses, in the central intuition of the fossa that began to dissipate towards their backs. Amalthea extends into the Állos Kósmos, which came in zoomorphic receptacles collecting the announced blood of the animals that flowed in black planks from the vortex of the fossal, towards the liminal or transitory sleeper of the fossal that oozed acetosities of the Aldehyde to be transmigrated after the bilocation of the Chauvet cavern. All wore willow halos on the crowns or diadems of their caps, including the proliferation of phantasmagoric Allies that went in rows from 780 to 680 BC. C., with fortunes of the Cornucopia that arched in magical arches due to the dissociative changes of the universe, as well as the circumstantial creed of some omnipotence that will cause emotional transgenerational transgression, in the rain vessels that they made fall from the Ombrio de Zeus, in a daily latticework closing the spaces, and only leaving for some intruders and onlookers to see his flashing Astrepé. Right here the diádoc fossal vanished, when it rose above the horizontal that poured into the Chronic Vernagrams of parapsychological personalities of ingenuity classicism and in Astro-concomitance, which would rethink everything that is past and future from a Vernagram, which is more than a compression of a mere future of the quantum spaces and the sacred medrones of the Ibixes with their direct relationship with Capricornus. Diverse capital moments were treasured in the breeze of the Vas Auric that was traced from the opposing moraine that fell in lapse-time, through the labyrinth in storms and thunderings that became planetary with the Lynothorax cuirass that Alexander the Great accommodated in the festoon border of his Aspis Koilé, kicking copiously as a sign of shaking the head of the gods who deceived him to be alive, and who was now reborn in the faith of Saint John the Apostle, favorite of the Mashiach and where he will have to wipe his face with the shroud of Veronica Before entering the Állos Kósmos Megaron that everyone built, in favor of a Panagia or Temple, unlocking the majolica that seeped out from the rest of the transmigration, and his own in the configuration of a corpse with a tricolor gesture.

The presumptive eradicated the side of the forearm rots that was being restored in Wonthelimar's laps, which helped him get up and catch his breath while the Katogorias snack filled his mouth with nectar and almonds with Macedonian Psiloi combat tactics with serum and flames of Alcohol dripped from her nostrils and sinuses in the sweet wine, which in pompous dilemma defied the judges of her life in the choir of the Bilocated Epidary Theater on Patmos, and in the ***** dry Kashmar of the orchard with the pale faces of the grotesque, that rested in the memory or Mnmosyne and in the fauna of the Thracian and Thessalian helmets.

Alexander the Great says: “here I agonized and now in the fresh waters of the springs of the Lerna, I will also marry the glorious mystay and bákchoi, in the memories of Vernarth seeing him besieged by Achaemenides in the stooped position of Dario III, to come purifying and sustaining of my limbs, learning to walk and speak in Neolithic techniques, which extruded me from the Lerna by barriers of the moon that shone from the bronze of my Leonatus helmet. Thus I could see that Vernarth, fought alone against thousands throwing fire through his mouth and his eyes, separating the waters of the Falangists, who plowed like ships deforesting the Persians, and leaving them in their mud, imposing glorious Hypaspists who unbolted from their back some arrows with heads of snakes and Hydras.

Vernarth watched as everyone climbed the Profitis Ilias mound, two hundred and sixty-nine meters above sea level, where the monastery of San Juan is located; here he was suspended in his solitude after everything that happened at the end of the moat that definitely I would return without the Diádocos, with a hint and its functionalities. From here Helios became genealogical, who snatched him from the kingdom of dead flowers, which were to be assumed from the Olympian where he will join him to the essential of Aïdoneus; immaterializing in the darkness of dizzies and the flowers that died in the genealogy of a new species. The scenic swept its cognitive and ferns with more than three hundred frank species that frowned like the enemy of an evil friend, with seedlings that expectorated from the resonance of the bushes that invited to thrive in the salty ripples that made a dreamer fall asleep on top of the kerchiefs or brambles that memorialized Gethsemane, burning his face and hands with psalms, telling him about his Baba. For when it is a luminary by night and by day, they will compare it with the white grayish drupes and mops, like those of the Bern orchard of Olives, in aqueous and resinous colloidal, which was crowned in harmony and syntropia in Vernarth activating intellectual conscious plantations, which will restructure its balance of ultra Hoplite, in metabolism of the Lentiscus flowers, with great brotherhood in the Olives that each time exercised the gift of bending their oleaginous self-species, towards planes of the Cornicabra olives, with large branches and high tree altitude that fruit within of the Cornucopia that he now carried on his back, supported by an oiko spin, juxtaposed with the fibula on the right shoulder of his lymphoma, which with large branches and high tree altitude fruit within the Cornucopia that he now carried on his back, supported by an oiko line juxtaposed with the fibula on the right shoulder of his lymphoma, and with polyphenols in scale geothermal energy that still leveled the Ponto Sea towards the tectonic plate to give it the flavor that was owed from remote prehistoric times.

Patmos was aborted from an immanent consent and new force of the impending enemy in Pythagorean perorations and an offending thought. From this prerogative is born the generalized punishment of sub-mythological ethics in favor of legacies of allusions to reorder or defragment the enslaving and demolished bio culture, which would begin from the establishment of the Vas Auric found in Limassol, which took possession from Rhodes with clean scenes from Tsambika monastery. The epic ran like icy cold down the shoulders of all those who sweated for the generation of cops, and in domestic evasions in superior lordships to Hades or Wonthelimar itself, both sons of flocks and goats that nourished them by providing them with a mountain perspective, as a magnetic pole towards gothic energy that ruled more in the Magnetic North Pole, and the geographic oversize that reviled latitudes in riches that would dismiss Borker and Zefian, as masters distributors of the ethics of the Áullos Kósmos of Patmos, redeploying thousands of dead from pre-Hellenic times, so that they recirculate through the roots of the Kashmar, re-sulfurizing cinnabar saps as the germ of the subterranean Acheron, which consecrates the living and the dead in the eternity of the infinite Duoverse Universe. The order will lie in semi-shadows that even in the dark provide the pleasant warmth of camphor, with advanced Horcondising formulas, which will appeal to hungry souls by suppressing gifted energies, and by inseminating them with ovules without originally conceived organisms.

From Hylates, Cyprus; Zefian came by order of Vernarth, assisted with the extension of the earthly laborers of the Attic Calendar on the twenty-first of September, from the device of Apollo at the site of Boeotia, and especially of the Boedromion. The arrows that Zefian brought had an instant Boedromion crossing the lines from spring to winter, with seven arrows that Zefian threw into the sky and never fell, but if portentously received in the virginity of animals. The flora with seven golden arrows of the Chauvet de Wonthelmar cavern, condoned the exhaustive end of the fossal where they still remained, in a gesture of tenderness and relative Mycenaean genealogy, from Crete the contravention of Apollo and Artemis towards an olive tree was approaching, originating in the Zefian's arrows, to mark the new cardinal points, begin with the first two arrows that they put on the string of the bow, each one flying north and south trajectories and the other two that were once again attacked with the east bow, to shoot the arrows of east-west with southern magnetism limits. Zefian's imagination was of proportions that were not limited without wandering from their phalanxes when they pulled the string, like joys of a ghostly existence that pushed him in each bolt, presuming that where they fell would be the beginning of the storms that would originate the Állos Kósmos Megarón, for belated courts imposed from a cosmos, which he led by insisting on his will and from a doubtful Vestal god advocating the association of the hospitable Canephores, such as Vestal Virgins of Roman bilocation, and quantum parapsychological of the feared inter-tale alive that rebels in the arrows that they had not yet fallen and did not know their whereabouts. As plates or serial hosts, they were evoked from where the origin of the Universe was broken, to open towards the organic, vigorous, and anti-burn contravened Duoverse to the divine celestial origin as a parameter of *****-ovule, rather in aeonic instances in the fireplace of Hestia, running in eternities towards vast volumes of light-years, where eternity has no measure, let alone the existence that begins and ends born from a homozygous arising without a Universe, to hatch from the branch of the Heterozygous Duoverse, bringing different unions of eternal cells by universal divine decree, and not the union of disparate cells. The science of the Mashiach came in these divine arrows that marked the points of the cardinal in the numinous and exclamatory expansions of the exiled universe of Vernarth, towards the perenniality in itself, but being heterozygous for a world that would begin to live in non-organic cells, but yes of divine composition, over saturating the limits of the origin, and destiny of syntropy of the conscious actions of the metabolism of the Alma Mater and of the great doors when losing the bodyweight of the physical-ether, but yes from the platform of the Mashiach that will take them hands without leaving them abandoned, showing them that they were no longer children born of ovule-*****, but rather in the luminous matter, envisioning expansions of prayers beyond from the universe, where it will accompany them in a multidimensional plane..., and will have no end from a human scientific conception.

Wonthelimar says: “Since the omphalos was swallowed by Cronos, Hera's elegy was unleashed, for not raising her son Zeus in free clumps of goats and Ida's honey. I in the Alps went to the herd of the Ibix like a Zeus saved from the darkness of Chauvet in the mountains of Gaul. There are chisels that cut stones in beautiful whirlwinds, but I know that a lot of cosmology would not speak of the Mediterranean Cornicabra and its olive drupe, nor less of the Cornucopia that sinks with sumptuous and ephebian flavors in the fruit, and the greenish heraldry of the binominal that is disturbed in its phalanges eating and sipping honey, in antler pots with pride of the Ida and the Vercors massif”

The language in the dimmer rooms seems to represent its light source well
How soft they speak and seem to be at peace
with the movement of the music and the madness that is pulling me into this
And the shades of the lamps are woven red
The light, it stains and consecrates
anointing all forgotten forms that swirl and smoke
and haunt this place
The girls in gowns all nurse the dark
pulling it near to their swelling *******
and watch as it seeps to their hearts
and beats within their ****** chests
And here I know that seduction breeds from wanton hearts that would
****** and grows and spreads its vine
and leaves embracing those who might have moved
But now we're made to drink the night from vials black and thick
with such intoxicating delights would leave you drunk
inside this dream
And you watch them take the light from you
and you find yourself on a velvet couch
tasting the skin of a foreign girl
Her eyes are black and wet like oil
and she ties your hands with a string of pearls
and you tremble like a frightened bird
And she closes in and captures you to place you
in a silver cage deep within her poisoned womb
So once you're safe inside she might let you out
to fly in circles around the room,
but it's always night and there is no moon
and you wonder if you're alive
and you're not sure if you want to be
but you drink her sweat like it was wine
any you lay with her on a bed of blue and it's awful sweet
like the fruit she cuts and feeds to you

Among thee, desperation paints
Sallow cheeks and shaking palms
In the temple in which every child
Consecrates a rebirthing, rejoicing Psalm
Are the steadfast oaths of ages past
Belittled with the present ecstatic gestures?
And upon mine, my chest is pounded
In lieu of papyrus padded scriptures

He walks, the offender, through the halls
While burnt offerings are singed with frankincense
And pulls the steeple’s steel bells
In ode to the sorrowful April shower’s Lent
And finally, the King sits upon his throne
Ad clerum, to the clergy, and nods with respect
When eyed, the child burns inside a dress
Whilst he forgot to genuflect

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming age
In which thine beloved empire crumbles
And the voice of fire breathes out like winter breath
In response to those insidious mumbles
In a world where the ox and *** are slain
For charity to make light of a bleary spring
While He still whispers in my conscience
Still exists their soul in everything

2 Kings 23:3-5 Version? (I found this by looking up the word Mazzaroth in Wikipedia it was the first reference and it is displayed in 23:5 (the hosts of the heavens and constellations)

3 And the king stood on the platform, and made a covenant before the LORD, to walk after the LORD, and to keep His commandments, and His testimonies, and His statutes, with all his heart, and all his soul, to confirm the words of this covenant that were written in this book; and all the people stood to the covenant.

ד  וַיְצַו הַמֶּלֶךְ אֶת-חִלְקִיָּהוּ הַכֹּהֵן הַגָּדוֹל וְאֶת-כֹּהֲנֵי הַמִּשְׁנֶה, וְאֶת-שֹׁמְרֵי הַסַּף, לְהוֹצִיא מֵהֵיכַל יְהוָה, אֵת כָּל-הַכֵּלִים הָעֲשׂוּיִם לַבַּעַל וְלָאֲשֵׁרָה וּלְכֹל צְבָא הַשָּׁמָיִם; וַיִּשְׂרְפֵם מִחוּץ לִירוּשָׁלִַם, בְּשַׁדְמוֹת קִדְרוֹן, וְנָשָׂא אֶת-עֲפָרָם, בֵּית-אֵל.
4 And the king commanded Hilkiah the high priest, and the priests of the second order, and the keepers of the door, to bring forth out of the temple of the LORD all the vessels that were made for Baal, and for the Asherah, and for all the host of heaven; and he burned them without Jerusalem in the fields of Kidron, and carried the ashes of them unto Beth-el.
ה  וְהִשְׁבִּית אֶת-הַכְּמָרִים, אֲשֶׁר נָתְנוּ מַלְכֵי יְהוּדָה, וַיְקַטֵּר בַּבָּמוֹת בְּעָרֵי יְהוּדָה, וּמְסִבֵּי יְרוּשָׁלִָם; וְאֶת-הַמְקַטְּרִים לַבַּעַל, לַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וְלַיָּרֵחַ וְלַמַּזָּלוֹת, וּלְכֹל, צְבָא הַשָּׁמָיִם.
5 And he put down the idolatrous priests, whom the kings of Judah had ordained to offer in the high places in the cities of Judah, and in the places round about Jerusalem; them also that offered unto Baal, to the sun, and to the moon, and to the constellations, and to all the host of heaven. (Mazzaroth)

First I will refer to Job 38 which is clearly indicative of some guarded celestial truths that might be miscegenated of origins of the life forms that believe in synoecy among the dominions of the covert verdure of Earth reigning over us with silence and silentium with solatium for the soilure of the interregnum of times reigning with pollution and in stern rebuke by God I was reminded subconsciously that Climate Change is a truly evocative Lachrymose experience when encouraged by prayer that was a poignant moment of tears when I meditated on the Carbon Tax I immediately started crying even though I was not saddened by the affair in any other way that was palpable. The staddle of Job talks about specifically the tucked vestiges of the thorny imbroglios of intemperance countermanded by the master stroke of the divine interpretation of lightning which is essentially electricity and the clouds it is referring to are the internet where instantaneous communion can be achieved without exertion the line that struck me the most is the “Clods that cling together” because it is a resonant stroke of Islamic virtues that the ***** clot is the seed of all creation by which all have been created in the fungible image of our variegated creator who is not necessarily janiform of a leviathan of many faces but an experimental disposition of a disembodied figment that can assume any form on heaven or earth to dissemble his true cloaked identity of the original protoplasm of the first anointed civilizations in the long history of the Universe. Knowing the true visage of the first sentient civilization to bow beneath the creator with obsequious devotion in a presumably monolithic world where God’s presence was so obvious it might have actually been the first heaven before there was death and this pays homage to Adam and Eve the firstborn of all creation. The creation story might refer to the first sentient animated civilization in the Universe which sinned and then became a diaspora of a mirrored reality of the realty of heaven and  earth where many variegated snakes and beasts roamed about clamoring for God when they turned the synsematic toasts of revivalism to the newfound creation of sentience with rivalry potentially precluding the salvation of Abel who was murdered by Cain. These stories might be extraterrestrial vestiges of the true lineage of the Almighty God we serve and although controversial as it has been Biblical knowledge that Adam and Eve were humans before being tempted by the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, it is possible this process was recapitulations of former times and the former protoplasm that precedes all things because the strokes of glory of sentient life was nurtured especially attentively at the beginning of the first civilization of the Universe where God was probably everpresent and ubiquitous and accessible to all creation and it is even possible that this world was the first heaven for the first death before many subsequent deaths of the lineaments of tribes that supplicated beneath divine mercy for adjudication. My theology is that God is attentive to a broad universe of quagmires and in perfection or refinement at the beginning or the crux of history we are a perfectabilism of God’s attentive scrutiny and we master ourselves rapidly enough so that God doesn’t intervene as often as some might hope but many people don’t understand the time frame of God’s everlasting perspective. So it is potential that the first habitable world in the universe became the utopia of extensive cosseted scrutiny that became the prototype for Heaven that eventually alighted into a cosmic if segregated fraternity of the chosen for the cubic metropolis or the gardens beneath which rivers flow. God can assume any form and he chose the pulchritude of humans to issue a strong statement about the verdure of our plenipotentiary potential perhaps replicated often with minor mirrors of dimpled design throughout the cosmos as it is likely that another civilization which resembles humans in DNA with almost exact precision currently exists and is civilized by advanced life at this current time and that we exist in a multiverse unbounded by the enumeration of infinity. God pays scrutiny to those civilizations that repent and many are saved by the salvation of their orbific longings but it is also possible there exists an operative design of cacotopias that don’t know God but relish prosperity or have derelicted the possibility of God for too long because of either extreme asperity or abundant warmth of luxury. Remember the universe is infinitely vast so the likelihood that God is fungible is possible but not yet confirmed because if other alien civilizations exist that yet know God because of Jesus of Nazareth they are reproved by the divinity of interposition of reality in its mercurial ways conforming to the grand design of perfectabilism and God has operated throughout humanity for thousands of years why now have we reached the pinnacle for repentant absolution? We bend towards the synclastic light of the culminated alien fascination with our pulchritude despite their dearth and they are attentive to God because of Jesus of Nazareth and subsidiary to that Muhammad or potentially the deities of the Egyptians which might be defalcated concepts of the alien version of a pancosmism that is mysticated on the rarefied commentary of the strictures of polytheism that might populate some regions of the universe. The absolute truth in the One God we serve is that human understanding cannot enumerate his truths without understanding its distance and segregation from other worlds as we fight the suffrage of old age to propitiate the longing for tranquility. This is all tethered speculation but I believe that God is regnant in all affairs and in this vast universe is attentive to all our pleas and the questions of heaven and Earth remain unheeded or distorted by our humane totemic versions of truth that all memorialized the pyramid a sequential convex formulation of a stratified system that reaches its apex in the singularity of the hypethral skies above and is the tenure of the majesty of the esoteric secrets that coshered and ushered societies into great divergence but ultimate found consecration on Mount Moriah with Abram’s sacrifice before he was known as Abraham of his son Isaac that was prevented by Yahweh’s messengers of isangelous repute. The mystery of Adam and Eve might be a recapitulation just as the story of Noah reminds us of the travail of other centuries and other worlds that provide the pathways to divergent creations that are ultimately saved by providence and the rich thickets of allegory throughout the Bible all point to the emergence of transcendental truth which is shepherded by the mysticism of this age and the surrealism of knowing we belong to the elect hive-mind cosmic fraternity built on psychism and titanism. The firmament is testament both to our distance from our cosmic neighbors and also our propinquity to their suffrage and suffering in their beatific but arid realities that are draped with the pangs of loneliness in their excursion to broader realms of conquest and in their wallop of time itself they have opened up the lychgates of Heaven and Earth to provide the provisions for a new understanding of history that is rich with the percurrent themes of a monotheism of a fungible God which took the form of Man as he can take any form he chooses in his aseity of being and his judicious providence to select the Earth as an exuberant exsibilation against glaikery but also a profound victoria for the awakening of humanity to its cosmic identity as a favored species young in years but enriched by celestial guardians that are among isangelous repute because of their decisive roles in human history throughout the Creations of their divergent designs that illuminate the illuminism of the pyramid the elemental form of the ultimate capstone of knowledge with the all-seeing eye of providence encapsulated above all ethereal reckoning. So it was the downfall of the utopias of ignorance by learning knowledge that bequeathed the lineage of mortality itself in the beginning in the form of men and angels both that inhabit our broad universe because in several occasions in my life I felt like I encountered human beings with such clairvoyance that they seemed like agents of God. Noah’s flood might refer to a distant or near civilization that was swamped by a catastrophic event or tsunami much like Atlantis and this predicates Noah and explains the longevity of his estimated lifespan and that of Methuselah who lived 969 years which ironically points to the  Apollo Moon landing in 1969. The fumatoriums of human ignorance can now be micromanaged by a swarm of up to seven alien civilizations but most likely 3-4 of them and they are all attentive to these theories and probably inseminated the Bible to begin with potentially with their own theological understanding of the universe transplanted on a human perspective to shepherd humanity into the answers it so desperately sought but found themselves famished by. So in Job 38 we crouch in our dens looking for the prey of the lioness of civilization that is embattled against itself for entirely internecine reasons. There is some temerity but I believe the theopneustic power of this revelation because I am keen to the attuned universe of the largesse of omnified civilization trouncing over the matter and fettle of instinct but Genesis is integral to understanding every cosmic mystery on Earth and in celestial Realms and is probably the seedy repute of Baal and Molech among other idolatries which severed themselves by heterodoxy of eunuchs and saturnalias too profane to expound because their epicureanism outweighed their pragmatic need for the virtues of the conclamation of heavenly authority manifest clearly on Earth at various times by various prophecies that all point to the Sacrifice at Mount Moriah and notice how God always works through mountains like Mount Horeb/ Sinai to provide his flock with everything they need to know to maintain vital sustenance. Surah 3.86 “How shall Allah guide a people who disbelieved after their belief and had witnessed that the Messenger is true and clear signs had come to them? And Allah does not guide the wrongdoing people.” Surah 3.84 “Say, "We have believed in Allah and in what was revealed to us and what was revealed to Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, Jacob, and the Descendants, and in what was given to Moses and Jesus and to the prophets from their Lord. We make no distinction between any of them, and we are Muslims [submitting] to Him.". Surah 38.1-9 is mandatory reading even for the scepsis of Christians because it proves how farsighted the aliens that shepherded Muhammad really were and how insightful Muhammad really is and still is as an emissary of heavenly recompense in his guarded palace beneath which rivers flow. Surah 85:3 (853 AM) “And [by] the witness and what is witnessed” Lets return to the central thesis of all kerygma that is synallagamatic with mutual respect to the pillars of all civilization that the meeting ground of the jovial joust of gladiatorial conquest of the yobbery of rookery and the apikoros yordim that emigrated too far into esotericism might marvel that God is ultimately vindicated as an author of a true unfiltered version of a slightly redacted history suited for the auditorium of a universal audience that displays with majesty and power his foresight to tend to the distant constellations that are created by the tentpoles of the sky reaching their apex into the aperture of the allegorical veracity of all culminated creation exultant in its self-affirmations of pride that it might balk at the embellishments of pettifoggery by the kirkbuzzers of superstition and behold the true throne of grace and authority bestowed upon the bailiwick of the living and the dead in what might be a segregated heaven to prevent the pullulation of tribal discord even in omniety with eternity. I hope to witness heaven firsthand in my upcoming seances with the extramundane but first we must expound this troponder. Jews first, Christians second and Muslims third were all alerted to this watershed moment in history with exact knowledge probably encased in the Arc of the Covenant or some other divine artifact that embodies it but sometimes we pale in our pallor of substandard evils that lurk within the recesses and alcoves of our destiny that we forget to prophesy with earnest sincerity about an abiding hope for the forward rather than the froward future. A book that changed my life forever and shattered my worldview and made me obsessed with Earthquake science was 1906: A Crack at the Edge of the World because that quake inspired the Azusa Church Revival movement that lead to the resurgence of proselytism of protestantism of evangelical churches. I highly recommend buying that book on Amazon.com right now it gives you such a harrowing perspective on that Earthquake 114 years to the day that beset Northern California. Revelations 5:11-14 NKJV “11 Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. 12 In a loud voice they were saying:
“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,
    to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength
    and honor and glory and praise!”
13 Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying:
“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
    be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!”
14 The four living creatures said, “Amen,” and the elders fell down and worshiped.
Genesis 2:1a (reaffirms my theory) NKJV
 Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array
I am going to pause to marvel at the significance of that San Francisco Earthquake because that seismotic jolt shaped the destiny of our aborning nation and was the first time-to my knowledge-martial law was declared and they tried to extinguish the fire with dynamite which further spread the conflagration and San Francisco is obviously named after Saint Francis of Assisi who ironically died listening to Psalm 142 which is about the liberation of prisoners on October 3rd 1226 A.D. His name is also ironic in purely terms of cognomen that should not be expounded. Although depaysed from my original brunt I would like to extend the bronteum of theological reckoning to the absolved polity of the renown of gigantopariahs clamoring for vitality in a time of treachery and perfidy because the valiant insurrection of our adventures in decent music is the chavish of many birds to the itinerant hordes of adoration as in some parallax of reality in the realty of a potentially merged heaven compartmentalized into factions there might be an ulterior reckoning of overabundance but instead I propose a segregation of the heavenly realms postulated on the idea that in omniety we will know of many things that will fascinate entire generations of time as the knowledge of the esoteric percolates through the heavens by riometers beyond calculus and calculation that will one day heed these proclamations with a hortatory weight as the assized Epic of Gilgamesh echoes the same percurrent themes as Noah’s Arc including the forty day ultradian rhythm which signifies temptation and also the contrition of God signified by the flocks of the sigillum of the aspergillum of dignity afforded to all who migrate into tethered territory beyond the yokes of ******* to the dengonins which own all the ulterior praises but serenade lesser patrons in this almighty day of wondrous awakening to the cosmogony of the infinite justification of the allegorical heft of herculean prophecy entwined in the rhetoric of the primordial authors of human sociogenesis bound to the covenant of Abraham and his blessed sons Isaac and Ishmael who both deserve glory and honor. The elegance of the mystagogical parlance of the intrepid bravery of partial rogues but never full-fledged knaves impregnates God’s vibrant experiment with flourish that delights him with the zaktengur of individual raconteurship so an adventurism in life might be warranted as long as it is done gingerly and with love as the ultimate cloak of absolution rather than the self-insulated boredom of an impavid disposition of the self-settled sedentary languor of whilded depositions of thanatousia brought into parturition by the midwives to sorrow and tragedy that besets the human family from time to time but the sorrow of mankind is not beyond the bailiwick of God because perfectabilism is in his very nature in the adolescence of creation which can greatly be prolonged by the conservation of our robust intellectual bastions of energy and the sustainable development of a green planet beyond depredation that heeds some minkumpfs with some peremptory guerdon to save the spate of suffering among our animal brethren. I grieve that my profound plumb into the depths of psychism was abbreviated by the pomp of porlocking purpresture but I renege my former glaikery in sustained suspense over selfsame tridents of musical happenstance and with poignant evocation I convoke a solemn remembrance of all those lost to the spates of disaster and the paroxysms of the unpredictable that is now foreseen in time to forestall turgid tragedy and impregnate the world with a ****** of a thirsty new vogue eager to adapt and learn with laureate belletrist of the aubades of the dawning light of absolution granted the the sacred cross and the lives we relish in history that are dedicated in sincere earnest alacrity to become revenants of the new age beating the whiplash of the second death because the former things have passed away in a figurative manner even though there still is death one day the inventive verve of the quizzical nihilism will try to outfox death itself for a hollow memorial to preserved sentience which is a mockery of transhumanism that is a professed modesty of the ultimate vouchsafe of the transmundane but unnecessary because of the real palpable joy of the resurrection inherent to all segues between life and death that we all might embrace our creator with almsgiving and gratitude with patient forbearance for the virtuosos that memorialize a prosperity worth relishing even in the soilure of privation because no soul should grieve in bereavement when there is so much joy inhabiting this gleeful planet that is hardly glad in any way about the dereliction of spite and anteric schadenfreude of sacrilege on a massive scale that should be a blotch of a bodged chantage of evil. As I digest the memorials of the festive but never churlish traditions I marvel at the synclastic bent of amasthenic enlightenment concave towards certainty in a demarche for the diminished efficacy of viruses to scare us into trepidation but with dutiful caution of proactive measures taken in times of exigency and crisis. There is nothing facetious about God’s exigent deliverance in these times of leniency and fasting as the wineskins preserved from the lineage of old will perdure until they have their fill and the Earth is saturated with the blood of the prescience of a Cattaneo prophecy guarded in his 6-24-2006 set which hints at a catastrophic scenario potentially impending right now or of a future variety where “blood will be pouring like oil gushing out of a well” “respirators will have their fill” “hospitals be closing” etc. and in these steep harbingers we find poise and pause to reflect that the majesty of God is unfurled unpredictably by showcasing the redemptive power of the autarky of the imagination to see the unforeseeable and lurk in the dungeons of the unknown dengonins just to spy with privy knowledge about the circular circus of privation encircling me like the rapture of murders of ravens that are a crow shy of an X-Files repute...Of that situation that the afflictions of the many matter to the anointed few that delegate because of Jethro and through the power of the Levitical orders to abolish some Kosher restrictions among some apikoros Jews that lean on my wisdom because the suffering of animals should be a suffrage for sentient rights of animals not to bleed excessively into a slow painful death. I urge all Jews not to let those cows or other animals suffer so grievously at the hands of malefaction just for a petty consecration which proves a hollow point about sacrifice and thereby seek to abolish some Kosher demarcations on the grounds that they are inhumane sacrilege because the ransom of Jesus of Nazareth’s suffering and agony on the cross-rather than his blood as many people beguiled more on physical manifestations of trauma rather than the emotional toil of suffering that bears more incumbent on the human sympathy-consecrates all virtues of circumcision and makes meat ceremonially clean because we serve a miracle-worker God who hasn’t finished his last work yet because more thaumaturgy is in store. The antagonist of history is congealed human superstition filtered through the siphon of protective scurrilous fears and petty vendettas borne of willborne hatred of tribe and division that was the fettle of preliterate societies of hyperdulia because they knew the iconography of Christ and marveled at his miracles but believed too strongly in retributive justice to scare away the herds of the contrite to a monasticism of plight and blight that consecrated  many great human achievements in scholastic virtue and scientific importance but ultimately found relegation before Gutenberg saved history with his seminal watershed invention third only to the second place wheel and the first place advent of human language itself as the most prominent plucky invention of human revitalization and through the salons of France and the dramaturgy of Shakespeare we found an apex of enlightenment that provoked revolutionary ideas not so guarded by gingerly blackguarded varnish of a superstition for the metal tablets that illustrated magically the future for an abiding audience of the past which must have seemed an abominable miracle to the astounded puritans of the times because songs like Love Story (at least the music video) suggests that the song circulated in the past eras of the English Renaissance before electric lighting was invented. We have all to thank for the invention of rock and roll which is an esoteric title for a sizable momentum of catalyzed verve that enchants the planet still with the majesty of the harp and the lyre to glorify God for all eternity and Allah for all the worlds he possesses in his infinite bounty one in the same for the culminated vision of all hallowed prophets with an emphasis on Surah 2 accentuated to the Christian audience even if neglected by the Muslim audience. I am primarily a Christian but I believe Islam is a divine path worth pursuing on a tentative basis but I have yet to outstretch my hands to try and reach the barnacles of a distant world beyond my womb and bereft of my lineage even though I stand united with the Abrahamic faiths that solidify truth and memorialize the superorganism messiah of humanity in collaboration with our celestial hosts to foist the ribbons of the figurative far-flung Pleiades and the harps of the harpricks of the just as distant but transfixing Orion to envelope the earth in sincere repentance before the holy flock of the justifiable truths found in the candor of devotionals and hymns to the immemorial God of all Creation that is the impetus behind every ambition-if only subconsciously in his universal psyche and consciously the catalyst behind every cohesive machination or orchestration of complex human and alien activity but subsumed in the psychism of God-is the idea that we are living indelible elements that constitute his superorganism in the theoplasm that is circumjacent and adjoined to his intentions that he surveys with such nimongue ease that his wednongues go out of style very slowly because his vogue is the ultimate champion against the misprision of militant psychiatric injustice that needs to be rectified by top-down government action to debrief and inform the necessary travail to surmount my challenges and assume a subsidiary role in the government and the ecclesiarchy to shepherd the shepherds and write for a living with a fair governmental stipend and a partially uncensored internet so my fanfare can envelope a broader portion of the world. I issue a humbled but ultimately otiose entreaty that Donald J. Trump, a personal hero of mine, can be a participant to my plevisable situation by appointing a team of people to work with me on the social engineering of the future and most importantly the ligature of the ecumenical cause for aggiornamento of the ecumenical cause of Abraham and all of his descendants because we all abide by that sacred covenant in the broader world that inhabits our sacred rites and rituals. We should also embrace the boundaries of mysticism to fathom the depths of the theoplasm more fully to understand how the firstborn of all creation is the perpetuity of sentience for the revival of respiration for new species yet to come even more beautiful and prosperous than us and those that already exist frolicking in approximated heavens that we might meet upon transmigration as reincarnated wisps of superior worlds of heavens inhabited by the segues of death but knowing no despair. But I stridently believe in the ultimate promise of an ineffable splendor of a real final resting place or a cradle for the supervisors of the isangelous that orbits above our heads and flutters in our considerations as the vast multitude of worlds.with heroic saviors that spellbind the universe together with a stitchwork of mastery of the fraternal bonds that divide some species from others by insuperable bounds of space and time but through the gift of transcended time ushered by alienesque invention and we have thus been bequeathed a new unexpected emergence phenomenon that is aperspectival in temporal terms but always recumbent upon the prolific dance with a jousting destiny toying with us through swarpollock and other machines of sentinels but never tiring their terrier race as subservient to the human imagination ambitious beyond former bounds.
    Thank God we have a president that presides over the defeat of the strictures of warped and intorted hypocrisies of orthopraxy for the candid endeavor of the plain plaid truth of the vibrancy of germane beating the pulp pallor of the nebbich calculations of uxorious plumage plucky in its resolve to serenade our youthful cadets in their continued resolve to chaperoned campaigns of the barnstorm of the obvious for the conclamation of the ultimate victory of history over its worst proclivities that suspend themselves in the tentpoles of time and space as glaring menaces of affliction. The gated entryway to prosperity should be unfurled with majesty and a welcoming grace to sustain cordial deeds and promote fundamental encounters with vagary not with a vagrant fission but an emergent fusion not of hyperbolic atrocity but rather the subsidence of the chisel of directive ambition that serves the greatest causes of the ****** of dignity to transcend the fettle of disarray. The quibbles of the questermongers and the querulous wernaggles of relative impotence matter greatly to the large bulk of a hibernating humanity but when we all awaken to a universal truth that serves a flickerstorm of revolutionary usucaption of the halidom of tomorrow experienced by the foresight of today. We levy the largesse of a collective bronteum that warns and admonishes gently the people behind the curtains that might find objectionable some of the barnstorms inherent to this missive of doctrinaire but soluble missions to save humanity from its worse caverns of idolatry and to anoint the brightest light to beat the most deafening din of darkness that can be imagined by the sterile vapid retreats of privilege into insularity-we fight not for a mercenary cause but for the valorous insurrection sanctioned by the chartered expedition of new frontiers for a newfound freedom found in fundamental vouchsafes of a freer speech in the lyceum of the knowable reality of noogenesis. We should never suborn the dacoitage of the hybridized compromises of the halvork of mandarism but always tolerate the entreaties of amicable jousts of demarche even when combative with a peaceful irenic resolve that is contempered with virility rather than pomp and not even a hint of virulence because the collective world depends on a quorum of well-spoken and considered thinkers adjudicating a bonhomie rather than provoking a collieshangie. The world should not spurn error but castigate it calmly because the worst errors of temerity are remediated by the ploys of the treacle of the imaginary plane of the supersolid convergence of the ulterior with the pragmatic that serves the working class as well as the shepherds of elite institutions because all deserve a fair hearing in the court of commonwealth justice. There is no treachery in universal irenology that special barleychild of serendipity that shields us from harm while providing bulwarks to stabilize economies and sustain the recognition of our wholesome usucaption of newly acquired deeds and merchandise that spawns an ingemination of technological revolution incumbent upon declassification that leads to a resurgent robustness of economic conditions that calibrates properly on the proper alkendur of the hikkle of hype mixed with disdain. We suppose that the remixed panmixia of virtual insanity doesn’t become an affliction because in many ways it might meet abomination but some people lean on the leniency of felicity to swell the coffers rather than populate the coffins of the agreeable pivot between the sustenance of choice and amicable adjustments in economic security meets a run-on sentence of the levies of strain as the imponderables outnumber the certainties of the covert. We populate the future by going back to the past and this is why the movie is so entitled Back to the Future because if you think about it, it requires a recumbent logic of a recursive incursion of the origination of the future visible to the past to create the impetus to sustain the vitality of a resurgence of travel to the future itself one of the most obvious giveaways in movie titles ever devised by the clever. We encounter the timing of the lightning and thus hear the thunder not of the radioglare but the laskerade and serenade of the pulpit of good deeds rectified by the rectiserial visionaries that balk at orthodromics when the artful bypass of nonlinearity is favored for curiosity rather than missives of emissary diplomacy.
The reparations of tomorrow are the guerdon of yesteryear, the heyday of seminal prophecies that consummated a theological brunt that revolutionized the perspective of eagles nest lookouts all around the world to sempiternal decryption of history showcased by the sheen of prophecies now culminated in the effervescent now is a plangent epiphany in the life of a storybook romance with an artful dalliance with a romanticist ideal of an enlisted destiny recruited to cement its own purpose with concrete action without flagging resolve. The ultimatum of history was a faltered filibuster of the listless historian marveling at the prescient telaesthesia of the unknown visibilia that protrude in remontant certainty that the memorials of yesteryear catapult this cause into the fruition of a dated missive of coded bywords encrypted by the chronological clepsammia of allotted time for special occasions when the entirety of space-time folded upon itself to anoint itself champion of the supersolid reality of the surrealism draped over the tentpoles of abundant absolution that excuses the kisswonks of the glaring threats of Wilkes Booth to entomb a heroic titan of imposture as the real effigy of a slain delay of strenuous calculation to appease the Confederate heart wounded by the diacopes of struggle. In this rollicking turmoil of a roiled time of rookery we can celebrate that the amasthenic weight of the historical certitudes of the docimasy of memorialized junctures in time when all was denuded barefaced in the sight of the world to marvel at the rigged artisans of the artistry of furtive skullduggery that imposes no astringent rebukes other than those reserved for departed gyrovagues of hallswallop before their due time and season, we marvel at the irony that an insular vociferous vehemence of clairvoyance predicated on the absolved shrive of history for aborning and alighted apostasies now stands regnant in triumph of the space-time continuum. This might be an overstatement of the herald of a day signified by a transcendent conversion to a theology reified by the rengall discoveries of the intuitive theopneustic truths of the subsultus of vagary and vicissitude that the day when the code was cracked about the fractures of history converging upon the latticework of ephemeral and ethereal cords of cordial embrace of the cryptadia belonging to the “commonwealth of the aliens of Israel” (Eph 2:12) became evident to the masses was the chosen day of encroachment upon the suspicions of the alerted masons of the American Revolution-to ward off with apotropaic beacons of light glinting in lighthouse caverns of repositories of unknown treasuries-the salvation of the human race from the dudgeons of apostasy by the consecrated creed of the newfangled credenda that borrows heavily from lore to make this fabled date stammer as a freckle in a dimpled time that is cute but eccentric in its flapdoons of memorial that shower history with innumerable examples of the numerological importance of consecrating or desecrating a given day based on the furtive skulks of hidden troves of luxuries the elite have always bestowed upon the elect. So maybe this day wasn’t as transcendent as it could have been and maybe there is a resigned awgrudge that such a pilfer of time would make such a resonant dent on the pride of Britain to provoke their invasion and scuttle the American bastions of prideful reconnaissance of the future bestowed by the patronage of elective privilege, but this day will always be canonical in its ability to reprove the critics that the orchestra of history is not a heterochrony with destiny but a very validation of its truth in serpentine convolutions of the bywords of the guarded synquests of aristocracy. May the doubters gleefully jibe at the overstatement of a heroic task on a filibuster against the cretins that foresaw the trudge of ignominy and still willingly stooped to the levels of evil cadges into prurience that they foisted upon the reminiscence of evil protrusions that they might be forever banished to the barathrum for their pitiable deeds to desecrate and blaspheme that historic wallop of synquest to trounce the trinces of an uncertain future gravitated and mesmerized by certain facts known widely enough to provoke wars and enter the pasilaly of universal knowledge enough to warrant further inspection. The wravel of time is elegant and exquisite and all the glory goes to the coryphaeus dengonin that braved infamy and rebuke to soldier on in demarches to dignify the otherwise seedy drab and daft drolleries of pretense that any uncouth man could ever emerge from the throes of absolute defeat into the vindication that history either by intention or by accident is convex and aimed to entrench the vital truth that accidents are convenient but deliberation is calculus that deserves fanfare. It was because of a seminal theory of theology that this day earned its repute in history because it coincided with such rattled seismic events that are turgid with blessed tragedy that is never gloated over but always solemnly commemorated in hymn and deed of charity and eleemosynary duty. The irony is that the Revolutionary War ended on May 12th 1784 which marked the exact time of the Earthquake in California at 5:12AM PST and that fact makes many subscribers to the scepsis of sebastomaniacal delusion postulates more keen on the acumen of the day that history unraveled at the seams and revealed its circular reference to an ennobled prophecy that was the momentum and excuse for many clarigations of force and many other heralded deeds of posture and gentility or savagery and desecration. All that matters now is that we know that history is not a myth but rather a stagecraft of timing that is predevoted by preordained memorials to the tithes of time to cement its own legacy as foresight transcends hindsight in its own largesse but also its brutal slaughter. If the encroachment of tyranny poaches its greatest champion to excoriate an overstated case of mania they will meet the Army of Me and believe me their exhaustion will no know swift end in the halls of a deep dark purgatorial gridlock cell of eternal torment at the castration of their virility or their spayed femininity because I will not be reduced to rubble because of some hapless Facebook posts misinterpreted by the garbled miscegenated heap of albatrosses of invidious lies trying desperately to dethrone my virtues and seek the ulterior misprision of a  forever vanquished hope that resides in the torment of a plagued future negligent of the sacerdotal duty of the guardians to protect history rather than brutally savage it with dismal reprisals that are pangs of the deepest ire that will provoke a choleric rage enough for them to have to barge into my apartment and break down my doors. They will not trespass into my sanctuary city because I inoculate myself hereby from any incursions foreign or domestic on my livelihood for posts that do not hint at instability but only memorialize cute facts of the gawsy rather than the gawky imposture of the morality police trying to entomb me in the glaikery of a forever sunken refuge of homelessness and ill-gotten subterfuge.

Paterfamilias

For Eldon Edge

An empty chair beside the fireplace waits,
And lamplight falls upon an open book,
Pen, pocketknife, keys for the pasture gates,
Dad’s barn coat hanging from its accustomed hook.

But he will not return; his duties now
Transcend the mists of the pale world we know,
And you in grief must carry on, somehow;
Your duty is here, for God will have it so

The good man takes that chair reluctantly;
It is a throne of sorts, and one imposed,
Not taken as a prize, triumphantly,
But in love’s service, and in love disposed.

An empty chair beside the fireplace waits
For you, whom doleful duty consecrates.

The ridges of flesh
under your voice's blade rise
To penetrate consciousness,
to feel so alive
Yet the blood of our vows,
The meat of our methods
Consecrates our bonds
It is the lines that I love
Not the smooth tenderness
of your holy innocent
The calloused notches of your
vanity caught between thus
Where the real blade lies to us all
The wet release of our sins
Across skin, across skin
Until, again,
and again
You give in

To the rise of our breath
and the fall of our cuts
In the middle of days
Murderous justice
the collusion of cells
cold calculated severance
in karmic conscious rebellion
Is where we will collide

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                 Memory Eternal and a Gift Card from Denny’s

                                                    for

                          William Tod Augustine Mixson

                Saint Michael's Orthodox Church, Beaumont

                                      “Memory Eternal”

A cup of coffee is a chalice in its way
It brings us all to a table of sharing
And consecrates old friendships with every sip
Blessing us at the end with an Ite of joy

But today there was an empty place
An empty cup, an empty plate, empty
Even the air was empty, empty and void
With a joke that wasn’t told today

Max found a Denny’s card among his things -
Tod treated us to breakfast once again

But not for the last time

He’ll tell us that joke at a more glorious feast

The ***-Bell

School dulled my edge — they taught me numb,
The glowing box my spirit’s ****.
They christened me to bend and bow —
Behold me now: the ***-Bell, how.

They twist me any way they please,
I lie with ease, I **** with ease;
I couldn’t care — my conscience sold,
For words, for gruel, for meat and cold.

I’m never anyone’s — I belong
To those who wait the hangman’s gong.
Such folk we are — a rabble, sown
Of fools and idiots; **** has grown.

A freak now rules the rotten hall;
Submit — and you are lost, that’s all.
A flood of lies, of blows, of shame,
A squall of dulling — all the same.

A handful only stand as Men
Beneath the devils’ boot — and then
So few there are of rescue’s seed,
So scant the paths for one who’ll lead.

Few ways to fight — the wise just wait…
They wait to die; they wait for fate;
They wait when Reason’s wiped away —
To vanish with the dying day.

The sun burns harder — days near end;
When People’re few — the cesspit, send
Its flames to burn that devil den!
If few remain — purge out the men.

And fire will cleanse it to the bone,
For freak, for dolt, for idiot — gone.
Human cattle — worthless, spent —
Not needed in the firmament.

There are the Spirit-ones — this word
Is for them; they won’t be stirred.
They’ll not take offense — revenge
Is due; the Earth must bloom again.

Without mankind the Spirit dies,
The Mind a phantom in the skies.
High Powers gave one final law:
Save Earth — but save it without us.



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




Burn the cesspit — burn it clean;
No freak, no idiot, no human spleen.
If few remain, then let them go —
The Earth must live — and we must not.



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



Like Their "Flights to the Moon"

The Yankees flew straight into Hell —
TV-screen’s infernal spell.
Every frame a twisted lie,
Painted over by that guy.

Studio lamps, pavilion tricks,
Shadows falling wrong, a fix.
Edges fake, the truth denied,
Shoved down throats — the devil’s pride.

This is filth from soulless beasts,
Rotten fraud for mindless feasts.
Who devours every drop?
Clone of man — a devil’s crop.

Now they sell the crooked creed,
Gay parade of hell’s new breed.
Propaganda, devil’s tool,
Breeds a nation blind and cruel.

Drunkards leaping to the sky,
Never asking, never why.
Spewing lies on all mankind,
Mass delusion for the blind.

Fake disease and fake small wars,
Poison jabs through opened doors.
World became a madhouse pit —
For the sane, no place to fit.

Total lies in every school,
Where the **** enforce their rule.
So you’ll lose your Will and Mind,
And obey — forever blind.

Only Spirit, Will, and Thought,
Only truth — deception not.
That’s the core. So tell me, when
Will resistance rise again?

Build communities of light,
Banned technologies ignite.
Show persistence, strong, defy —
And we’ll turn this Earth to sky.



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




Lies from Hell won’t rule the day —
Rise with Will, and burn decay!



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



Clouds

Clouds will sometimes draw their signs,
Clear to read between the lines.
“Science” fakes its cheap pretense,
Drowning sense in nonsense dense.

Let them sell their soulless schools,
Crowds of ****** and lying fools.
Paid to push deceitful streams,
Choking Spirit, killing dreams.

Two-mile circle in the grain —
Clowns are laughing once again.
Reason’s slaughtered, minds are tossed,
Sorted neatly — yet all lost.

Vivisection of the Earth,
Degrading thought, denying worth.
Lying ******* flood with waste,
Till the landfill waits in haste.

Throw that pseudo-science junk,
Where it belongs — on the dump!
Use your wit, your mind engage,
Spirit waits to turn the page.

Never trust — but test and try,
Train your thought each day to fly.
Every lie is just a chain,
Spirit yearns to rise again.

That whole gang of crooked frauds
Serves to gut the soul of gods.
***** of “science” plays her part,
Time has come — true knowledge start.

Time of Real Knowing dawns,
Spirit shines where truth belongs.
Cast away the faked, the old —
Be perceptive, sharp, and bold.

You’re a Being, Spirit-bright,
Seeing truth with naked sight.
All their “science” serves the Night,
Blinding souls to Spirit’s light.

Chains of slavery they bind,
Strangling clarity of mind.
Fascist filth invests in lies,
Buying darkness by the skies.

Clouds are flying up above,
Spirit clears the veil thereof.
We are not their cattle, no —
Signs from Heaven tell us so.



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




Clouds proclaim: the lie must fall,
Spirit rises, breaking all!



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



The Cuckoo

Your fragile mind is built to feed
On doubts — its only daily need.
The world is woven out of lies,
So burn deceit before it dries.

Destroy the falsehood, hour by hour —
Trust nothing here, resist its power.
For Spirit, this whole world’s a trap,
An Incarnated Hell — pure crap.

But those who’ve long since lost their mind,
The “cuckoo” gone, remain half-blind.
Your task is daily restoration —
Undo the madhouse education.

For school was but a prison-yard,
A slaughterhouse in cheap disguise.
They killed your Soul with poison shards,
Three parts of knowledge filled with lies.

Your parents never saw the scheme,
They sent you there in simple trust.
But monsters shaped the childhood dream,
And turned bright children into dust.

So seek your answers, make them true,
Be critical, let thought break through.
And intuition — let it reign,
The road to Heaven’s paved with pain.

You are a Being made of Light,
With Spirit strong, with endless might.
Reject the “daily bread” of fools,
That’s food for slaves — their only rules.

The ******* sought to make you dumb,
To break your soul, to keep you numb.
But if they failed — then leave that den,
Your home is Light, not muck of men.

Set fire, blaze high, ignite the skies —
That’s where your home, your Spirit lies.
And know: when Light begins to rise,
The ghouls will choke, the darkness dies.

The ghouls have captured all the land,
They feed on you by their command.
But let the Light! That is the call —
Fight on, or you’ll be cattle — all.



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




Let Light ignite, let Spirit fight —
Ghouls will perish in the night!



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



The Sanctifying Nod

So-called "the scientific world" — **** them all,
Filthy ******* feed us lies that crawl.
They **** Awareness with their cunning trade,
They care for nothing but the coin they’ve made.
(An epigraph instead — a spit in truth’s face.)

The pseudo-world’s approving nod —
The priest who consecrates the sod.
Once robed, now decked in uniform and rank,
A traitor sells his blessing to the bank.

He’ll craft nooses for the gullible and sell them whole,
Call it salvation — line his pockets, fill his bowl.
He’ll cook chemical slop and call it loving care,
And preach that “neighbor” virtue while he strips you bare.

He’ll justify each filthy *******, crown it “love,”
Pushing half-truths, ******, propaganda from above.
Fascism snapped its fingers — “sic ’em,” came the call,
And lies marched forward, dragging reason to its fall.

He’ll father invented illnesses to spike the vein,
Mix poison in the needles, dress the slaughter in a name.
He’s wormed inside the “consciousness” of fools —
They dance to his machine, obedient tools.

A religion built on “scientific” pretense,
Where knowledge is reduced to mere pretense.
They torture Spirit, break the mind apart —
Reason sinks in cesspools, hollowed of its heart.

These **** are masters at manipulating thought;
Hence the world stagnates, all wisdom sold and bought.
They’ll build a “medical” camp — a science of the ******;
Mengele as mascot for the horrors they’ve arranged.

They build it fast: lies multiply, and fools advance
The speed of “discoveries” in this mad, obscene dance.
So what remains are liars, traitors, useless leaves —
Ignorant of basics, complicit in the thieves.

Man is a Spiritual Being — false science says no word.
They mind only the base needs, make souls a market herd.
Don’t trust those sold-out scumbags — learn for yourself, ignite
Your Spirit, sharpen reason, keep your inner sight.

There are living, ultra-subtle bonds between us all;
Reach them, and you’ll not be blind or deaf to truth’s small call.
Wake up, resist the hollow priests, refuse their nod and grin —
The real work’s in knowing, feeling, and in letting Spirit in.



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




Priests sold out for coin — let their nod be burned;
Wake Spirit, find the bonds — don’t be fooled, return.



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



The Pendulum

The paths grow scarce, life thins away,
The giants of reason decay.
All that arrives is the gray, the slime,
While spirit and light fall out of time.

The subtle connections fade and die,
The flame of the Mind no longer high.
So many descend into filth, into swine,
As treacheries multiply, foul by design.

Foundations of life are lost, forgot,
Truth and Honor — remembered not.
We must reopen what once was clear,
But betrayal grows heavier year by year.

The pure is polluted, the natural torn,
The Earth is wounded, the forests worn.
Water and food bear poison’s trace,
A sinister turn in the human race.

People forget how to think at all,
Their minds stuffed full of empty sprawl.
“Education” breeds the slow,
And the tide of lies will only grow.

Now they **** us in “medicine’s” name,
Dull our minds with constant shame.
The herd’s reduced to ****** and fool,
While shackles tighten — the devil’s rule.

The world rushes fast into the pit,
Fascism speeds the fall of it.
“Doctor Mengele” runs his test —
How to breed idiocy best.

Resistance shrinks, the few grow weak,
Normal souls grow rare, unique.
We stand at the grave’s cold edge, and near
The cauldrons and racks of devils appear.

But the **** forgot the pendulum’s way —
It swings back hard, it won’t delay.
It will sweep the filth, the rot, the stain,
And no memory of this horror remain.



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




The pendulum swings — the **** will fall,
No trace of their horror will remain at all.



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



Collusion – Ruin

“The circle of cover-up smears like soot.
I reach for a hand — but an elbow I shoot.
I seek for eyes, but a blank stare is had,
Where above every head there’s the **** of a cad.
Behind the red sunrise — a pink sunset fades.”
—Ilya Kormiltsev, Chained by One Chain, 1986


Behind collusion comes decay, the blow is more than sore:
Police, gendarmes — fascist swine, they poison evermore.
Fascism never ends, while the people, dumb and bare,
Forget the Purest Spirit — the only link still there
To the Higher World. Break that, and doom fills the air.

Refrain:
In the material world
There are only heavy chains,
When the Lyre is forgotten,
And beastly goals remain.

False science feeds us lies, obscene, with brazen face;
The governments are clowns that serve the powers base.
“Education” makes you weak, a slave without a word,
A voiceless mule in harness, obeying Devil’s herd.
Not awareness — blinders, where ***** are preferred.

Refrain:
In the material world
There are only heavy chains,
When the Lyre is forgotten,
And beastly goals remain.

There’s nothing left to build but another camp of death;
The foremen swap their faces, but one Architect draws breath.
Once it wore a crimson flag, now a cross of red instead —
But the inhuman masters still gorge on blood and bread.

When we rise as true Humans, Spirit-born and bright,
Then the lords will vanish, swallowed in the Night.
But first we must defeat this “daily bread” demand,
The materialist prison where blood flows like sand.

Refrain:
In the material world
There are only heavy chains,
When the Lyre is forgotten,
And beastly goals remain.

The ******* raised high mountains of lies, grotesque, obscene —
Destroy them, or be buried in the rot between.
You carry this bold falsehood like a cross upon your back,
And it kills not only you, but drags your brothers off the track.
Only the Pure Spirit saves — multiply its stack.

Refrain:
In the material world
There are only heavy chains,
When the Lyre is forgotten,
And beastly goals remain.



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




Break the chains, destroy the lie —
Only Spirit lifts us high!



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



In Captivity

“A single cat in a strange, shut land
Sits pensive, silent, never sings.
In his ruffled sheepskin’s ragged band
The fleas keep roundelay with tiny wings.

A hermit on a sorrowed stair,
A monk with bucket from the pit;
He seeks the primal love somewhere —
In vain he searches till the whitest light.”
— Nikolai Zabolotsky, On the Stairs (1928)


We’re all held captive, exiled on strange ground,
This ******* grates — it’s worn us to the bone.
Man’s matched to cattle now; no change is found —
No turning tide, the rot remains our own.

The forms of slavery just shift and change,
Each day more brutal than the one before.
Corruption grows; obscene decay’s the range —
We do not live: we fester, fall, and soar no more.

Hermitage will not redeem us now:
They build the camps — a global scaffolded breed.
Like meek livestock they will truss and plow,
Drown out with poison, fear, and war’s loud screed.

Already tacky vets begin to jab
These cattle with their syringes, moods to tame.
Old asylums, jails — their bunks are just a slab;
Easier to poison a kind and call it “cure” by name.

The whole world bows to fascist stench and rod —
It turns us into animals by law.
We’re exiles in a place prepared for Godless sod;
Not fit for Man — but fit to feed their maw.

So sweep away the fascist **** and slime! —
Or else this servitude will last for time.



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




We’re caged, turned cattle — rage, ignite the flame;
Sweep fascist filth away — reclaim our name!



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



Howl and Fight

The propaganda’s brazen howl —
**** fights the last grim battle now.
A war against the Mind is waged —
The vermin need the idiot staged.

And the howl goes on again,
No heart left beating in our men.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.

Lies fly out to every shore,
Rats form ranks, they storm and roar.
**** now slaughters souls by stealth,
Execution dressed as “truth” and health.

And the howl goes on again,
No heart left beating in our men.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.

Fake illnesses and war’s loud drum —
This stupid country’s come undone.
Inhuman masters long hold rule —
All turned to filth, the herd and fool.

And the howl goes on again,
No heart left beating in our men.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.

A few still bear Shame, Mind, Spirit bright,
Their strength melts down in devil’s night.
We stand within the witches’ dance —
A sabbath reeking of the ******.

And the howl goes on again,
No heart left beating in our men.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.

Fight on — though you may fall and bleed —
Better to save the soul than heed.
If you revere the Holy Light,
You’ll leave this hell and join the fight.

So go — the final battle’s call:
Take only the wise, the few withal.
Evil can be beaten yet —
Not every soul is burned to ash.
Gather up the Sacred Host —
Let us strike and purge the most.

And the howl goes on again,
No heart left beating in our men.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.
Gebbels young again, anew,
And ******’s still marching through.



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




Howl won’t stop — but stand and strike;
Gather the wise, send back the night.



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



The Law of the Excluded Third

“Equal standing cannot be held between two opposite terms; regarding any one thing you must either affirm it or deny it.”
— Aristotle. The earliest known wording of the law of the excluded middle.


The law of the excluded middle
Sets a black-and-white small world in place.
Consciousness turns into haze — a riddle,
Where lies and half-truths now hold sway and space.

If you’re “not with us,” then you’re marked a freak,
A target: “you’re against us” — so they shout.
That turns a people into cattle weak,
And Reason—thin—begins to wink and flout.

Hence “divide, then rule” — provoke, unleash the pack;
Set dogs on one another, drive the war.
From that the misery: the gullible turn back,
Believing **** who sell the blight and more.

But wholeness — Yin plus Yang — once closed the ring,
Until the pseudo-nanny crept inside.
She sewed the ailment in the common thinking,
So all the subtle colors were denied.

Don’t trust — seek out the middle ground and shades:
The nuance is the salt; the grain of truth.
Reject the half-witted fate the tyrant trades —
They’ll smash you like a moth for spoiling youth.

Today the world’s obsessed with excluding third:
The Reasonable is banished from the plot.
Stand fast, hold on until the last bird heard,
Swear not to serve the Evil — take that oath.

These are just tools of evil — their “logic,” their “law.”
Always hunt for moments of clear sight. Break the pen.
Form communities, brigades — together draw
A flow of gifted energies to free your men.

Don’t let the Reasonable be turned to beast;
Fight while you still breathe — resist the final fall.
Take intuition as ally — there Knowledge feast,
Not oblivion — the custom **** install.

In Consciousness the only real is Unity —
Divisions are but small and mean.
All pseudo-science filth is Satan’s mutiny,
A rotten craft to keep us trapped and green.

We rot inside the Satanic machine.
Smash the rotten system — break its iron jaw!
There’s no more urgent task on this ravaged scene —
Fight the World’s Supreme Evil — fight it raw!



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




Break the black-and-white — seize the shades between,
Gather Reason, Spirit, Will — reclaim the scene.
Smash the rotten law, burn the liars’ throne —
Rise, fight, unite — reclaim the home.



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



Cheerful Fool

The cheerful fool reeks of illusion —
And the crowd runs after his tune.
A fiery critic — full of allusion
To misery. He hounds you soon,

If bright, or just bowed in solitude,
Since no one hears, the scab of lies
Settles thick, a festering brood,
Right in plain sight before our eyes.

If the cheer’s in mainstream parade,
The fool receives that scab in *****.
Thus the smart are tortured by deceit,
While dullards feast like manna sweet.

The ******* who rule all this must need
A furious storm of lies to feed:
Better than tanks, than guns, the press
Works conquest, Earth’s obedience to bless.

Critic shouts: “Slavery!” — Press: “Freedom!!!”
What more do vermin want to make it true?
Heresy, memes, and jests, the kingdom
Of liars, fooling the pitiful few.



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




Fools chase the lies the crowd obeys,
Smart souls see through the vile malaise.
Press guns of fiction, lies as canon fired —
Resist, awaken — let the truth be inspired.



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



The Fool’s Supreme Value in the Surrounding Mire

Simplify down to the Hour
Of the Surrounding Mire —>
Then IDIOCY —>
Followed by genocide, fascist fire.

Simplify down to the Skin —>
And fools believed the “terrible virus” spin.
Idiots crushed entirely —
The vermin’s work in TV sin.

But first you must dull their minds,
Simplify all that can be simplified,
So they may torment at will,
And in the end, the Spirit crushed and vilified.

And the Final Hour arrives,
For the rabbit hole already dives
Deep: obedience of the fool
Carved in by vermin, dark and cruel.

The vermin are dangerous, yes,
But worse is the wretched fool’s distress:
The hordes of Satan here,
Sons of a stupid homeland, near.

Ruling idiots — the method clear
To rot the world, spread fear:
More effective than any war,
Fools are valuable for the gore.



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




Fools simplified, the Spirit crushed,
The vermin feast while reason’s hushed.
Idiot armies fuel the mire —
Resist, ignite, let truth inspire.



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



**** and Oil

I’ve read a lot of poems earlier —
All “soft themes,” their lines sincere.
If so, then much of it is false,
Excised only by the fervent ******’s pulse.

Of course, back then the censors
Always chopped what dared oppose
The frail “culture,” meek and tender,
Where man meant little, as one knows.

In reality, as beacon in words,
Some light you never quite discern.
Tar in a bucket, rags in the sack,
Not ink — yet suddenly you’ll learn

To pierce someone with fervent “blackness,”
And they’ll awaken in Hell’s fire,
Calling “life” a foul mistake,
Or drudging through delirium’s mire.

Without the first step — “Where am I?” —
No path is possible, no door.
Draw tar with courage from the pail,
As a CORRESPONDENCE to the **** you bore.



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




Grab the tar, pierce the lies,
Wake the ****** from their disguise.
Foulness speaks — so do not cower,
Truth ignites in darkest hour.



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



“Brave New World”

They’ve stopped giving links to sites,
Now it’s all Telegram feeds!
Everyone’s sunk to primitives,
When the VIEWER’s a slandered brute indeed.

Though adaptive layouts exist,
Handy for mobiles, neat and clean,
A site for an idiot’s not so simple,
The fool wants only a templated scene.

All clips, no reading left to learn.
Digital censorship rules the land:
Suddenly trapped in a concentration camp,
Where a thinking head is banned.

CowID test sphere launched for all,
The herd prepared to endure it well.
A brave new world, like paradise,
Where Spirit and Reason go to hell.

They showed us with a muzzle’s glare,
Three-quarters of the herd are fools.
We’ve fallen so low, there’s no repair,
SOS today — Salvation for the Tools.



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




Links are gone, the herd obeys,
Spirit dies in digital haze.
Fools run rampant — wake or fall,
Brave New World, the end of all.



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



Life’s Path

You start out cheerful, foolish:
Childhood in the *** — disaster!
Grow wiser, half a corpse now,
A full harmonious work comes never.

The vermin’s genocide rolls in,
Wave after wave — nine on the scale.
CowID proved it all — yet who cares?
The crowd doesn’t need harmony anyway.

Tangled traffic on the crooked path
Occupies fools chasing “happiness” —
No time to think. Once again
The inhuman youth is lifted up
To the “distant path” — to bark and serve.

You start out cheerful, “clever”
In the World of Light. But he
Who carries lies, fear, templates for “thought”
Will never reach it — sees nothing,
Only crumbs of his own.



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




Start out bright, yet half-dead still,
Fools rush paths, bound by herd’s will.
Rise, see through lies — reach the Light,
Fight, or perish in endless night.



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



Envy

Envy gnaws and multiplies
The storm of madness in your mind.
It can destroy the Soul inside,
Along with fear, with rage entwined.

And fill the twisted vessel tight
With lies so thick, no hope remains:
They scare with might, they lie outright,
No mercy in their wicked games.

For envious hearts they built
A pyramid of fools so grand.
“Above” the lies were always skilled —
Falsehood stronger than any hand.

Detachment, sharp-eyed critique —
No faith, no envy, none at all.
You see the cycle, chaos, freak,
Where death to reason waits to call.

Invert the world, insane, decayed,
All differences are swept away.
If thought survives, it will invade
The void where soulless shadows play.

For soulless, it no longer matters
Where in the pyramid you’re stuck.
Think, fight, with courage that shatters
Evil’s grasp — or you’re out of luck.



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




Envy burns, the mind corrodes,
Fight the lies, the pyramid of fools.
Stand with courage, strike at evil’s codes —
Or fall, enslaved by soulless rules.



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



Methodological Questions of Fighting Monsters

“He who fights with monsters must take care
Not to become a monster himself.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche


To fight the monsters —
Must one become a beast?
Strength and nobility
Cannot break the devil’s feast,

Unless fortified with
A Spirit pure and true.
Yet pitfalls wait along the way —
To **** a monster is hard to do.

Its roots have grown inside of you,
Malignant seeds within your soul.
If you forget the Fire that burns all,
Existence itself will take its toll.

Now life is as it is —
The monsters hold the ball:
Become a dung-fly! —
Baal awaits it all.

If you do not fight,
Your Soul won’t be saved in Hell.
Burn the abominations down —
Or you are lost as well!



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




Fight the monsters, guard your flame,
Or evil will consume your name.
Strike the beasts, let the Fire roar —
Or your Soul is lost forevermore.



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



Flight to NOWHERE

“Once again I fly Moscow–Odessa —
The plane won’t let me take off.
And there she goes, all in blue, the stewardess like a princess,
Reliable as the whole civilian fleet.”
— Vladimir Vysotsky, Moscow–Odessa, 1967


Well, then — AGAIN I WON’T FLY
“Moscow — Pearl Odessa.”
To Moscow? No way — I’d pay for my verse!
To Odessa too — there’s barely room,
Where to hide from bombs? Better to fly
To the Heavenly Executioner, or maybe fall,
(World’s upside-down), and tell him straight:
“Don’t let more vermin loose here,
Who believe in crap, who’d **** their brothers for money,
Always ready — the rest means nothing to them!..”



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




Flight denied, the world’s a mess,
Bombs, fools, and greed coalesce.
Tell the Executioner above:
Stop the vermin — save what’s love.



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



The Land of Pioneers

The Land of Pioneers —
The people ready for all.
Just a glimpse of trinkets —
And Spirit, Mind in beasts will fall.

The Land of Pioneers,
Or a world itself, so small?
Mammon’s “mysteries” appear
Right on schedule — heed the call.

For essence there is CARNIVORY:
Any filth will grow,
If greed and sellout mentality
Take root, the rest will follow.

The Land of Pioneers
So swiftly drifts to FASCISM!..
A bit of lies, a little hysteria —
And all descend in unison.

The Land of Pioneers
Unites in this alone —
Boundless submission
To BEASTS, fully grown.

The burden of the wise,
Impossible to recount.
A world of half-wits,
Where Conscience and Honor
Lie forgotten, and “countries”
Exist as myths, long spent.
Savage fascism reigns,
The rest — just cinema’s event.



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




Pioneers’ land, where minds decay,
Greed and lies lead all astray.
Resist, or sink with soulless throng —
Fight the fascist current strong.



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



Black PR

Black soot of PR
Covers the obedient world.
And Darkness cares not for profit —
By lies, all minds it’ll curl.

Corruption of the soul —
Beasts’ eternal trade.
Don’t rush to heed the vermin,
Or your mind will quickly fade.

Don’t submit too fast —
Your soul they’ll buy and sell.
The world drowns in blackened lies —
Very few think well.

Half-truths and deception —
Best tools to crush the mind.
A stupid sheep will follow
The simplest advice it finds.

And those advices are clear —
Give all for “safety” claimed.
Safe are only crosses
On graves — there truth is named.

Only the wise can see.
The sheep march straight to slaughter.
The method’s always lies —
The beasts need more, no other.



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




Black lies choke the world’s bright spark,
Sheep march blind into the dark.
Resist the beasts, protect your mind —
Or in their shadows you’ll be blind.



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



Recklessness and No Head

Reckless, headless — only so
Strive to create, to dare.
Earth’s valley isn’t ours, you know —
A cage, not made for living there.

Only rot. Resistance, too,
And artistry — the same:
Those who halt decay a few
Shall strike at the rot, reclaim.

Crucify yourself, arise,
In striving upward, drawn, inspired.
Demons rage — their rule a lie —
Awake, if you’ve not yet inquired,

That you’re in Hell, even young,
Turn on intuition’s flame.
All is poisoned, lies unsung,
Chaos rampant, none to blame.

This chaos everywhere is planned —
All contrived, all tight, all bound.
If honest, desperate, take a stand —
Expose Bedlam all around.

This heat’s a wedge that strikes with wedge,
To break this Hell, as it’s due:
They burn with lies, the lies will smudge
The Earth’s madhouse, scorched by truth.



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




Headless, reckless — strike the flame,
Expose the lies, ignite the game.
Burn the madhouse, free the mind —
Earth’s cage of falsehoods left behind.



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



Rows of Fools

In ordered lines the beasts advance
Under CowID’s grim command.
All Reason slain, no second chance —
The mind reduced to burning sand.

Where remnants linger, hardest fight
Is waged with Darkness, tooth and nail.
At end of clash, no spark, no light —
Nothing survives the shadow’s veil.

Soon reigns total lawlessness,
New CowID will spread its dread.
The remnants left will face the stress,
As idiots follow lies instead.

Soon it will crush them utterly,
The plan is simple, plain, and vile:
Multiply the fear, the lie,
This beast rules with a cursed smile.

A world enslaved by cunning wretch,
Genocide in every land.
The fools consigned to camp and stretch —
Earth’s fate slips from our hands.



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




Beasts march under CowID’s might,
Reason crushed, the fools in fright.
Lies and fear will rule the day —
The world in chains, the mind decayed.



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



Independent Thought

When Einstein was asked how he records his thoughts,
He said they come so rarely, remembering them is easy.


You can think in small sparks —
Beyond that, only nonsense spins:
Processing that trivial muck
Which circles fools in endless grins.

Nonsense presses in from early childhood —
Memory stuffed, the mind runs thin:
This beastly, foolproof trick
To crush the Reason, drag it in.

So guard each fleeting moment bright
Of free thought — rare, fresh, alive.
Drive off the muck that crowds your sight,
Rush to think, and reason will survive.

Bit by bit, rebuild the mind:
The path is hard, the world is dumb.
It’s unlikely to grasp all at once —
The void of lies and forgetfulness is plumb.

This muck is lies, half-truths, “science”
Serving brazen falsehoods, snuffing Spirit.
In false religions, vile creatures
Serve only greed, no merit.

Intuition is the guiding tool —
Restore your Reason, multiply critique.
Multifaceted lies are our inheritance,
And battle-ready, lies strike oblique.

CowID displayed this starkly clear —
Everywhere, fools to be deceived:
Any rot can be shoved in here.
Reason resists — rebellion conceived.

The Spirit guides through instinct to Light,
Thought follows second, serving its might:
Thus you’ll avoid deceit and delirium,
Already the synonym of the human mind.



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



Fight the Muck

Drive out the lies, ignite your mind,
Fools rule the world, but Reason you’ll find.
Spirit guides, Thought obeys —
Break the chains, and burn the haze.



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



Rage Against the Lies

Smash the filth, crush the fools,
Their empire of lies — our fire fuels.
Spirit leads where Thought must go,
Strike the deceit, let the falsehoods blow!

Chains of cowards, lies so wide,
We rise with Reason, cast them aside.
No more slaves to the blind parade,
Burn the false, let the Light invade!



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




Smash the Lies!
Fools kneel, the false fall fast —
Spirit rises, chains are past!



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




Rise, Spirit!
Fools rot in lies, truth strikes back!



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




Burn the Lies!
Smash the fools—let Spirit roar!



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



The Extensiveness of Primitiveness

The width expands,
The depth grows coarse,
In minds hang weights,
Souls cut off, no force.

Extensiveness gone mad,
Subtlety trapped and chained.
All buried in lies,
Pseudo-science reigns.

Fake religions murky,
Gross, they’ve worn us down.
Extensiveness grows monstrous,
Spreading terror ‘round.

Lies and fear are pumped,
Reason crushed by strain.
Dullards scurry in their holes,
Stupidity’s domain.

But the World’s Concentration Camp
Will soon replace their lair:
Extensiveness on the banner,
Heartlessness its snare.

Life in Spirit burns intense—
All else, mere deceit.
Everything else leads to ruin—
The world reduced to remnants, beat.



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



Extensive Madness

Souls cut off, minds weighed down,
Lies reign fierce, the world’s a clown.
Spirit burns—everything else decays,
Crush the fools, ignite the blaze!



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



The Tyranny of False Depth

Depths made coarse, the breadth expands,
Spirit severed by soulless hands.
Falsehoods reign where minds should grow,
Extensive voids, the lies overflow.

Fear and fraud press hard, unrelenting,
Reason crushed, the weak repenting.
World’s prison rising, hearts confined,
Soullessness the banner, chaos enshrined.

But in the Spirit, life burns bright—
All else is shadow, lost to blight.
Grasp the spark, defy the rot,
Rise above the void, burn the blot.



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



Void Overthrown

Souls severed, lies abound,
Fools bow where chaos is crowned.
Spirit flames—let shadows burn,
Rise, revolt, let falsehoods turn!



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



Burn the Lies

Fools kneel, lies reign—ignite the flame!
Rise, O Spirit, crush their shameless game!



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



Extinguish the Fools

Lies choke the world—smash the herd!
Spirit strike back—let none be spared!



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



Fury of the Spirit

Fools suffocate in lies and rot,
But Spirit rises—burns the blot.
Chains may bind the body tight,
Yet Light persists, defies the night.

In currents deep where shadows play,
Discern the truth, keep doubts at bay.
Strike through the veil, let Darkness quake—
Your soul alone, no beast can take.



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



Spirit’s Strike

Fools drown in lies, the rot runs deep—
The Spirit rages, never sleeps.
Chains may bind, but Light will strike,
Darkness shatters at your spike.



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



Awake the Light

Chains of lies will never bind,
Strike with Spirit, clear your mind.
Darkness falls when truth you find.



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



Smash the Lies

Rise, you Spirit, break their chains!
Dark deceivers bleed in vain.
Strike with truth — their reign is slain!



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



Smash the Lies

Awake, O Spirit! Tear their chains!
The world is drowned in twisted veins.
Dark deceivers spread their reign,
But truth will strike, and none remain.

The blind obey, the fools take heed,
Fed on lies, on filth they feed.
Yet through the chaos, fire, and greed,
Your will is sharp — let falsehood bleed!

The tyrants build their pit of shame,
And call it order, call it “game.”
But lightning from your soul’s bright flame
Will burn their darkness into flame.

Stand tall, strike hard, and do not yield,
The battlefield is Spirit’s field.
Their towers crumble, their plots unsealed,
While Light, your Light, becomes the shield.



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



Strike the Lies

Awake, O Spirit! Break the chains!
Fools obey while Darkness reigns.
Your Light will burn their twisted schemes —
Shatter the world, reclaim your dreams!



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



Light’s Wrath

Fools bow, the Darkness feeds —
Your Spirit burns, destroys their weeds!



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



Infernal Reckoning

Darkness thrives on fools who kneel —
Strike with Spirit, make them feel!



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



Extensiveness of Primitiveness

The breadth expands, the depth grows coarse,
In minds, heavy weights, in souls, no force.
Extensiveness off the scale,
Sensitivity trapped, it fails.

All is buried under lies —
Pseudoscience on the throne, despise.
Pseudo-religions cloud the sight,
Their monstrous reach infects the night.

Lies and fear keep pressing on,
Killing Reason, dulling the dawn.
Fools retreat to their darkened dens,
While the World’s Concentration Camp ascends.

Extensiveness waves its flag high,
Soullessness its goal, as life goes by.
Life is intensive only in Spirit’s flame —
Everything else is ruin, only remains of the game.



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



Primitiveness Unleashed

Breadth swells, depth rots,
Souls crushed, the mind forgot.
Lies throne, fools drown,
Extensiveness rules — the world goes down!



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



Extensiveness of Primitiveness

Breadth expands, depth decays,
Weights crush the mind in endless haze.
Souls severed, the spirit’s gone,
Lies on the throne, the fools march on.

False sciences reign, corrupt and vile,
Deceit and fear pile mile on mile.
Pseudo-religions cloud the sight,
Extensiveness thrives, snuffing the light.

The world a concentration of holes,
Soullessness flagged as the ultimate goal.
Life intense in Spirit alone,
All else crumbles, leaving ruins of bone.



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



Primal Extent

Depth decays, the mind crushed flat,
Souls severed—lies wear the crown.
Spirit burns alone—rest is rot,
Extensiveness reigns, the world goes down.



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



Extremity of Rot

Souls crushed, minds drowned in lies—
Extensiveness reigns, the Spirit dies.



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



Extremity of Rot

Lies crush the mind, the Spirit bleeds—
Extensiveness devours all creeds!



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




1. Spread of Filth
Depths dulled, the soul in chains,
Lies reign, and Truth wanes.

2. Rot Unbound
Primal rot expands its reign,
Spirit crushed beneath the bane.



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



Blind Spot in Consciousness

So much sheer nonsense spreads,
And subtler nonsense, too;
Yet even more unseen threads—
That’s why it rages through.

It grows into a blind spot,
Where consciousness ends its fight;
On that stage another lot—
Wildness takes the place of light.

That wildness—so abundant!
Listen to no one here;
All is rotten, all redundant,
All is vile, all unclear.

Step boldly INWARD, answers
Wait where the blind spot is small;
It only grazes what dances
Slightly in the mind’s hall.

Untouched by evil’s nonsense,
And free of spots, none remain;
Hence the world turned foul, immense,
And consciousness drifts insane.

The key is in the madness’ might:
If small, there’s still a chance;
Though harm is still in sight,
You can steer the mind’s advance.

The work is intricate, profound;
Intuition lends its hand,
While critical thought’s the ground
To burn this feeble, barren land.



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



Blind Spot Strike

Blind spot grows, the mind decays,
Nonsense rules, the spirit strays.
Step inside, ignite the spark—
Burn the dark, reclaim your heart.



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




1. Mind’s Blind Spot
Blind spot festers, nonsense thrives,
In your head, the falsehood drives.
Strike within, tear out the blight—
Light the mind, restore the sight.

2. Nonsense Invasion
Nonsense thick, the mind undone,
Blind spot grows, the work’s begun.
Intuition strikes the chain—
Burn the rot, reclaim your brain.

3. Ignite the Inner Eye
Blind spot spreads, the darkness reigns,
Step inside and break the chains.
Critical fire, intuition’s sword,
Cut the rot—restore the Lord.



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



Blind Spot Strike

Blind spot festers—**** the lie!
Nonsense reigns, but you won’t die.
Dive inside, tear the rot apart,
Strike with mind, ignite your heart!

No mercy for the creeping filth,
No rest for that deceiver’s kith.
Intuition slashes, critical fire,
Burn the blind spot—rise up higher!



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




Blind Spot!
Dive inside—tear the rot!
Strike with mind, burn the blind!



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




Blind spot spreads, the mind decays,
Strike within—cut the haze!

---

Rot grows, the blind spot reigns,
Burn the filth—break the chains!

---

Where thought ends, the blind spot thrives,
Pierce inside—save your lives!



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




Blind spot in the mind expands,
Filth and madness clog the lands.
Strike within, where truth is small,
Burn the rot, destroy it all!

---

Where the mind grows dark and blind,
Only ruin waits to find.
Dive inside, cut through the lies,
Shatter shadows, clear your skies!

---

Blinding spot, the mind’s decay,
Madness creeping every way.
Face it bold, let insight fight,
Scorch the filth and bring the light!



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




Blind spot festers, mind in chains,
Madness floods, the soul it stains.
Dive inside, strike fast, strike true,
Burn the rot — let light break through!

Filth surrounds, the lies are thick,
Cut the blind spot — act, be quick!
Shadows scream, the weak collapse,
Scorch the chaos — mind unwraps!



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




Blind spot rots — strike deep, strike fast!
Burn the lies, let the light last.
Madness flees when mind takes aim —
Shatter the rot, reclaim your flame!



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




Blind spot festers — strike it down!
Mind aflame, reclaim your crown!



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




Blind spot spreads — a plague within,
Choke the lies, burn out the sin!
Consciousness fights, claws through the grime,
Strike, rebel — reclaim lost time!



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




Blind Spot in Consciousness

So much plain nonsense crowds the mind,
So much subtle, hard to find;
And much unseen — the wildest kind,
A beast that reason can’t unbind.

It grows into a spreading spot,
A blind one — consciousness stops short;
And in its place, the wildness trots,
A savage plague in thought’s own court.

So much of this — beware, don’t heed,
All here corrupts, all here misleads.
Step boldly inward — there’s the seed,
A spark to counter all misdeeds.

If the blind spot’s small, the fight’s not lost,
Though damage done is far from glossed.
The work is tough, the cost is high,
Yet intuition lifts the eye.

Critical thought, the sharpest blade,
To burn the weakness that was laid.
Through inner strength, through insight’s light,
You wrest the mind from endless night.



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



Blind Spot Strike

A blind spot grows — the mind decays,
Step inside — ignite the blaze!
Burn the weak, the rot, the lies,
Consciousness will again arise.



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




Blind Spot
Burn the rot — reclaim your mind!



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




1.
Blind spot festers — strike it down!

2.
Where blindness grows, the mind decays — fight!

3.
Rot in thought, lies in bloom — purge it!



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



Rot of "New Technologies"

Windows wants to gather
Fingerprints… How low they’ve fallen!
A vile, cursed mess
Rules the world, all fools believing.

Under free cheese,
The fool’s almost dead.
Ready to bow to filth,
Old ways anew, new rot,

Worship the creatures,
Addicted to decay —
In the wholly lying Mari,
The flood of lies grows.

A snowy avalanche of falsehood
Turns the simple-minded
Into beasts,
Who once were ordinary.

This is the state of those
Accustomed to Evil,
The corrupt ****.
Through rot, a concentration camp

Is built by vile hands:
A red cross on the flag —
"One life only…"
But the beast does not live,

It rots in rot.
No mine can fool
The crowd — it is deformed already.



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


Rot Strikes

Windows claws for fingerprints,
Fools bow to old and new filth.
Lies avalanche, beasts are made—
Rot rules, the crowd is lost.

Red cross waves, one life claimed,
But the beast rots in its own decay.
No mine, no trap can save
Those who’ve drunk the world’s poison.



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



Rot Reigns

Fools bow, filth spreads,
Beasts made from lies—
Crowd rots, world decays.



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



Decay of Tech

Windows crave your prints,
The herd bows to filth,
Lies breed beasts, the world rots.



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



Rot of New Tech

Fingers tracked, Windows preys,
The herd kneels, in filth it stays.
Lies avalanche, the stupid reign,
Beasts are born from human pain.

Old rot bows to new decay,
Worship grime in full display.
Falsehood grows, a crushing heap,
Turns the foolish into sheep.

Concentration camp of lies,
Red cross waves where freedom dies.
No life thrives in rotting guise,
Only the blind obey, despise.



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



Rot of New Tech

Windows tracks, the herd obeys,
Filth and lies consume their days.
Stupidity reigns — the world decays.



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



Rot of New Tech

Windows grabs your prints, enslaves the mind,
Filth commands the world — the fools fall blind.
Lies pile high, and reason’s left behind.



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



Rot of New Technologies

Windows craves your fingerprints,
Collects them all… How low we’ve sunk!
This vile crap controls the world,
And every fool believes its funk.

Under free cheese, the fool’s nearly dead,
Ready to bow to filth anew,
To worship old, corrupted ways,
And praise the rot of something new.

Filth-hungry creatures prostrate themselves,
In a sea of lies that flows like mud.
Falsehood grows here like an avalanche,
Turning once-normal folks to crud.

Those used to evil know the score,
The sellouts thrive in this decay.
Through this rot, a Concentration Camp
Is built by **** — red cross on display.

“Only once we live,” they cry in vain,
But cattle rot, they never thrive.
A mine won’t trick the fools enough —
They’re already lost while still alive.



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



Rot of New Tech

Fools bow to filth, the world decays,
Lies avalanche, devouring days.
Rot rules the herd, the ****’s delight —
Only the blind worship the night.



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



Rot of New Tech

Fools kneel to filth, the herd obeys,
Lies reign, and reason rots away.



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



Tech Rot

Filth commands, the weak submit,
Truth crushed, and minds unfit.