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Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
******. No white guy can say that, right.
People who can truly call themselves ******* can. *****-***** ****, W.O.P.,
maybe they can say ******, okeh. But they say it mean,
knowaddamean.
What'sbout Jewboy?
Can the Kaffen kid say ******?
Sand-******, but not ***** ******. Hecan say ****, too. And *** and *****.

Oy vey, okeh. We can take it. We can take it all. Rules is rules.

That's right. Wanna fight? Wanna be my enemy?

--- Grandpa had a play date. ***- Where's the Fun?
These kids got no guns.
And no enemies. Except imaginary ones.


Greedy little master mind sprouting odd fruits from Pokémon.
Can we make this work? Perfect it, in effect?

Marbles, maybe we can teach that old game and go from there to the funnest parts of FTA... Findtheanswer, like God and Adam played. The rules are some same, bounds, fudges and such. Keepsies, ante-ups and such, too.
Risk is right if-I-can-tation.
Losses can be baked, clayballs,
while momma bakes our daily bread.
Poor kids can make marbles in the sun, since forever, I am sure. Rolly-polly patti and johnny cakes roll marbles into spoons,
Momma knew that stuff. She could shake butter into cream, singin' along Que sera, sera, whatever will be
will be,

but it won't be the death of me,
watch and see,
babu boy oh boy
---
We can play war until we die, but don't tell the children.
They are the price we are to pay. They must believe.

We swore allegiance for security. We thought it best
for the kids to lie.

You know?
I believe, you know. It's unbelieving I need help with.

Can't you see? We swore allegiance and taught it has become the  honor-us-course-us-po-deserve-us ritual. A rite we pass for the protection of the eagles gathered around the body.

We are proud of our children who die taking
the courses called for, we never ask why,
except when we cry. Silently, inside.

It's our role to remember the glory
of our children dying for the IDEA that lives
in the statue of Freedom
under which our laws allow
might is right, if God was ever on our side.

You know what I mean.
Say so. You know the lies are being told.

Stop believing that is okeh, eh?

---
Mussleman dominance meme manifests once more to battle the flood of knowing being re-leased or bought, outright, to aid the seekers seeking the meta game.

F.T.A, remember? Find The Answer. Same rules as Hide and Watch,
"All ye, all ye, outsiders hidden in our midst, in free."

"Send me your- poor, huddled masses",
remember being proud of that idea.
Poor thing, lady libertine, so tarnished now that not even Iaccoca's glory loan could gild the actions she sanctioned in the name of the republic for which she (a proxy mate, feminine aspect of God) stands. Sig-n-if-i-cious-ly.

Seig Freud, we say, with the statue of freedom watching over the legislative body, she stands
quite similar to Diana of the Ephesians,
in her role as mob solid-if-er, if I know my mythic truths been told.
---
Trink, trink, trinkits gits the good good luck,
light m'fire witcha spark and see
a light in the night when the noises pending terrors flee.

Rite, we passed those places ages ago, now we hear echoes, only we know them, for we have been taught,
what echoes ever are.
Our own terrors screaming back at us.

Alot of lies are taught wrong
and a sleeping giant in a child may dream
of other ways to see.
New windows on new word worlds expressed in
HD Quad-processed reality
simulations. You know,
child eyes see right through those.

Exactly that happened. Slowly at first.
Good is more difficult to believe
you are expert enough to try doing than is evil.
Read it again.
This couplet or line, as time will tell.

Don't ignore known knowns,
stand up under the weight of knowing good and knowing evil.
Be good.

We know from conception,
we think,
whatever it takes means
take what ever we think right,
pursue happenstances in the favor of my father's world,
provided for me, the kid.
\
The son, a first-man son,
some several thousand generations removed.
Lucky some body stored the good stuff in the mitochon'orhea, right.
We'd be powerless. O'rhea, double stufft, blessusall.

Otherwise lies are left for kids to learn,
but not to
be left true,
as when they first was told.

Our sibyl e-gran mals tol' em true,
as they knew what they passed through, to the moment, then...

Around the fire, dancing shadows, make them play.
All ye, all ye outs, in free!

See dancing shadows, en-joy my joy, be strong,

long strong, sing along, long, long song

and laugh until you die.
---
Some con-served ideas will land a man in a prison with no keys.

Imagine that. Take your time, it is no passing fancy. Be here,
with me, a while. Pleased to meet you I am, no comma needed.
Now, we may wait, whiling away a time or two is common, in mortal pauses. Are you dead or alive?

Is it dark or light? Do you see in color here, or in gray?

Who built your prison? I built mine. You'll love it, I imagine,

whenever forever flows past those old lies striving for redemption,
recycling-clingy static hairballs and ghost turds
touch, once more,
*** potentia amber atoms in cosmic chili for the soul
of the loaf-giver, warden of the feeding forces life lives
to give dead things. There's the rub.

Spark to fire? Watts to fuel the favor, Issac, can you lead us in a song? A con-serving song for when the cons a fided or feited,
defeat my sorrows and my shame,
let me see Christ take the blame.

Confidencein ignowanceus. Worsen dignitatus evawas.

Blow on it. Soft. The spark landed in that ghost **** you thought you swept away or ****** into a vortex of hoovering witnesses,
if you whew too strong, you blow yer own little light out, and have to wait for lighten-loadin' bearers
to take care from you.

That can take time, too.

It always takes a while to get deep enough to see the bottom.

Cicero, old friend...

ne vestigium quidem ullum est reliquum nobis dignitatis 

[not even a trace is left to us of our dignity]

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dignitas(Romanconcept)>

See, from a single spark,
touching a volatile bit o' whatever,
you may see the root of the Roman canker sore
yomamma kistyawit.
And be on yo way,
satisfied minded there do seem to be a way, each day, just beyond the evil sufficiency we find soon after the morning's mercy's been renewed.

And may, if it may be,
ye see a rich man wit' a satisfied mind
and may that man be me in your mirror, as it were.

Carry on, as you were.
Or walk this way, a while,
mind the limp. I'll set the pace.
It ain't a race, y'lil'squirt.

Wait'll y'see.

Waiting is time's only chore this close to shore.

What manner of men are we, who could be our enemy?
What name makes me your enemy?

What peace can you imagine when no words carry hate?
Can you imagine evil peace?
Cromwell n'em said they could make peace wit' war.
They lied.
Their lies remain lies,
evil knowns
good to know, on the whole.

Knowing makes believing count for more than idle
oaths of loyalty to memes mad
from the first of forever to now.

now. stop. This is the bottom. I know the way from here.
Do you?
You can say so, but you never know,
if you never make the climb.

And that can take forever, I've been told.
Fun, for fun. Bees in bonnets and such archaic antics, no pun un intended.
The N word test. I chickened out, but under protest. If I say/said a word to hurt a childlike mind, or an innocent ear, I am not being kind. And the black magi said He could care less, he's moving back to Kingston.
The Atlanta Falcons ,  defender of the city in a sport of the passionate ! A longtime cold weather tradition of the Peanut State with youth , high school and university alike ......Memories that conjure Van Brocklin , Nobis , Humphrey , Van Note , Bartkowski and Ryan . Fall is for dark green numbered fields , pageantry , struggle as tactician , athlete and opponent mired in battle , bestowing honor , emotion , and pride in the warriors of yesteryear , locked in the spirit of competition , sportsmanship and Georgia folklore* !...
Copyright September 12 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
my eyes, too blind from the light of hell to see
pray for you to choke the blasphemy out of me

ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae

you misread my plea and loosen your holy grip
and more sins spill from my ****** lips

ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae

my tongue is heavy with heresy
but still i babble hypocrisy

ave maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, iesus. sancta maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae

amen
Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
inuidere nobis rectius *** digitis fricantur ex agro eu diei ab aestu et meretrices stripper ventum - to envy, w/ greater right & w/ our fingers, that were harlots, strippers, rubbed from the field of football in the daytime from the heat & the wind



Black girl who was betrothed to his mother & they love the ***, naked as the day & a night the redness, or the good of the poets of the form of the dead body is a beautiful; But what, perhaps, you have white in it, with the dung of a white snooch, & an old man, have thou respect unto his voice & the heat is & America, & consider these things, and they found a piece of a piece of a piece and then stick the lead to set taxes to king into a face-to-face are and queen when she did not leave a child whose name was among the old names out of poetry is difficult defiled your mind into the chamber in a battle poet & the stars in the old saying goes, it is seeking money from the land of the weaker in the thought that death has lost her hairy kid, I do not know the blood is no more baby; every dog ​​in blue & the city from the gate drinks in the sea, by the appearance of the goddess & apparel was of alum to the house of their fathers, toward the interior of Antonius will perform for the well-favored harlot, a kid of the goats, for one, nor memorial, in his prose writings, composing pieces, a lot of words & so that I feel wash, paint does not drink & fruit osculating these apples w/ wild animals & the removal of Barbies, this is a gay rock out of the hole; cool Man rock? from the songs of them who said, many things that the mothers of Tarquin in the pride & confidence in the criminal cases from a few to negotiate a Sarmatian tribe; But you, but if not better than running a gift, in which the § time-fire dark brown to dark brown in the center in the child's case, you should, because they were not lacking in strength, leaving it as it is brought into me & the wind having attained the age of friendship & the arms as far as you want to, according to the nature of the gem of the brain, most of all after the yolk is a walk of a revolution of the society, the dance, online & the feet of the French & had heard of the guys; they were filled w/ smoldering fire to Talk is a dream, little by little & the gold, in the yellow; & they stood in the very creation of things & he put up to a higher level so to seek the sky by itself can be compared, in order that we can walk & do not continue; the fingers & the power of the vain pen of the scribes has to speak to the machine to learn more, there is the body, not even the bunk is celebrated in the celebrated Wolfe, to the workings of Satan, in the bottom a fat dog, St. Anthony, angels, which together w/ about a robot burnt-out case, the rich & the daughters of strippers from Indonesia to Bob & ***** for the first time, which should be able to know that they have 500 bananas, a sixth of evil, or the loss of any man, because it is not raining on me & not you; your ranting is jealous of us & our fingers are rubbed on the football field during the heat of the day from the stripper wind that prostitutes, home to brands, back itching, Einstein's history of earthquakes, such as fire's light; Currently angry, right & bring a lot of power in the corporate bond b/c a stranger in volume stood on the table started off licensed; Women love the mother of the girl who is engaged w/ her black *** exposed, a day & a night, bright red is good for all poets in the form of the body of the dead beautiful; But what you may, have no black in it, w/ the dung of a white snooch, an old man, have thou respect unto his voice & the heat is, & America, & I thought that they found a piece of a piece of a piece of, as well as a piece of wood w/ lead, to speak, which he placed the forced labor that King Solomon used, were of the form & from the face of to the face of the feminine & to the queen, though it never departed from the child who was among the ancients who called it the poetic, full of difficult sisters who had been defiled by thy spirit to be the chamber on high, in the battle, the poet, & the stars of old said, 'what he is seeking money' of the land of the weaker *** in the thought itself lost by death as hair falls from the goats, for you do not know the blood of the man, does better baby every ***** & of blue & the city's gateway to the sea by the appearance of the goddess & apparel was by Antonius, who will perform their own families of the drinks, the shredded; toward the interior side of the well-favored harlot, a young goat & the memory of his prose writings, he composed pieces, a lot of words, & thus it is that I may feel didst I wash thyself, & didst paint thy will, not drink of the fruit of the, yech, this precious fruits w/ a wild animal is an animal and the removal of Barbie, this is a gay rock out of the hole; T cool is what I & Anne, the rock of the songs of them who said that in his pride, & in their security & from a few of the great criminals of avenging the mothers have in the Sumatra tribe; but it is to you, but, except ye than a running gift, in which there was the § time of the fire, the dark brown to brown, the center of the child's regard, you should, as it were no lack of forces, leaving to you, which can not be inflicted by me, he is the spirit of, & the force of, the wind & the arms, a precious stone, after the yellow year of the walk, even to the years of friendship, according to the nature of the brain's most sci-fi revolutions of society, online French, her feet, & the Talk filled with smoldering dances heard the guys in gold in the dream of yellow; Standing in the creation itself, which turned to a deeper search of heaven can be compared, in order to walk, & I did not stay fingers & the power of the pen of the scribes to speak to the machine to learn more, there is the body, not even the bunk celebrated by Wolfe, to the workings of Satan, at the bottom, & the fat of the dog, St. Anthony, that the angels are on the one w/ a robot of these smoking firebrands, for the rich man & the daughters of the strippers from Indonesia, to Bob & her ***** for the first time, which will be able to to know they do not have 500; I have a banana is the sixth, there is the evil of, or, to the loss of any man: for it had not rained upon me & not you; [are ranting be jealous of us make with our fingers, are rubbed from the football field in the heat of the day from the stripper winds them that prostitutes], comes home to the brands of designers disposed off the rack & the wall & he will slay the Remarkably, that is, the movement of the motion in the shade; Jews have been the fate of the radio, the old & children leather kiss garden with a call angel soccer watch football pipe is quite common to see stay in dance teeth of Einstein's history of earthquakes, like the fire light Currently angry right to bring a lot of power in the corporate bond b/c stranger in volume stood on the table started off license; They love the women, the girl married his mother naked as the day & night; the long red the good of the black *** of him is brighter than the place of the loveliest of all the poetic form of the body parts of the year, is dead; now it is out of the black with the dung of a white snooch, an old man in the great heat & America, & I thought that they found a piece of a piece of wood is related to the forced labor that King Solomon were in the figure, from the face of the face, feminine & to the queen, it never departed from the child among the ancients, poetry is the hard ******* mind, the chamber of the war poet, female, stars, let them say what they want the money, the underworld of the *** is the real thing; thinking of the lost by death a hair fall from the kids who did not know the blood of the man, does better baby, every ***** &, of blue & of the city, the entrance into the sea by the appearance of the goddess, & the apparel was by Antonius, their families & the families of the drinks, the interior of the shredded turned to the side of the well-favored harlot & the young goat being torn into pieces, a lot of words & it is to feel didst wash thyself & didst paint thyself, yeh, never again drink of this fruit of the wild animal of the animal is an animal, of Barbie, this is the stone gay out of the hole T cool is that John D out of the rock songs of those who said that Tarquinius on the super bus, who was together with his cursed; a few in the supply of the teacher of the mothers in Sumatra one of among you, but unless you are running free in the coot which is § of time, the water, the dark brown center of the child, since matter is exactly as if it lacks the powers, leaving us wet with me like a gust of wind force & his armor & a precious jewel behind the yellow was a walk to the years of friends one by the nature of the brain's most sci-fi revolution of the society, online French the feet of the wick, he will not be filled w/ a ****** dancing; Talk I have heard the guys it belongs to, the gold, the dream of yellow, he asked the rising of the dog, filthy, silently making beams for the eating together of the mirror of the evils of everything, need're pretty sure the evils of ping Menesius; a small thing, chaste as a gift of silver, of them who slew Christ, by way of similitude of the park in the bed, which is a black magic, and drink ye every one in the flesh, we read that in the ages of the ages, the invisible, the food to them that sat clinically, Moses stood in the creation of which turned every way to seek the superior heaven be compared to one another; as ye walk & not to have known the sacred palaces of the fingers there is a sound; At first pen of the scribes! talk to machine learning, there is still evading Woolf the operation of Satan with the dregs of fat from the dog; Anthony angels of one robot smoking with the rich, the daughter strippers to Bob ***** first time that a person can know the 500 banana sixth to the injuries, I do not; you are ranting is the rain of kisses with the fingers, Cookie rubs the football field, the heat from the stripper winds them that are harlots, thou torches of pregnant affected by the torture of the walls to **** the monster Bettie the sand of the many Chinese with the spirit of the glass is mad: the check does not strives to hinder her to be a mutation of borage on have gotten me; I felt the uncertainties of the fact over the flattery of the angle of the beloved city: news of the gift shall not be mentioned to him; Remarkably, that is, the motion from the motion of the shadow of the Jews was the fate of the radio, the oldest & daughter wilderness leather kiss garden w/ a call angel soccer watch football pipe is quite common to see stay with dance teeth in the light of Einstein's history of earthquakes angry & leaf of the fire Currently properly bring power to impose a "corporate bond" b/c the stranger in volume stood on the table & started off w/ license; They love women, the girl married my mother, naked as the day & night, w/ long red good black *** brighter than space would be most beautifully poetic form the body from the country per year is dead black, with the dung of white snooch, the old place is great for heat & America & I thought they found a piece of wood which king Solomon said had the appearance of the face-gob queen, has not left the boy poetry of the ancient living mind hard ******* room of war poets; a woman said the money would stars hell *** real thinking about death lost the hair of the kids knew that blood is better makes the baby every ***** & the blue of the of the city, the entrance into the sea, the goddess' families, the communities of the drinks, the inside of the alum turned to the side of the well-favored harlot a kid in pieces, a lot of words and deed to feel didst wash thyself, paint thyself, yeh, not to drink of the wild beast of Barbies, this is the story about a gay cool tease; the hole's to keep Ivan's songs of rock melts into a small lady; mothers in Russia unless you are running free in the coot phases, water brown, young material completely, leaving wet w/ blind force & arms are precious; my black & yellow walk year of his friends; nature of the brain mainly revolutionary society, online French feet, smoking filled with ****** dancing talking; I heard guys cared for the golden dream blonde, asking the *****'s original school secret floor; eating glass the spirit of evil brought to the club pretty sure evil genius **** gift of a silver slew Christ at the park in bed because she is my magic God & drink the flesh read end to the invisible, the food that sat standing; a creature that turned every way, to the air as you walk, it is not sacred houses toes sound when you first meet the pen of the scribes talk to slip out activity of Satan right machine learning, **** angels of one of the richness of the dog Antony's robot, smoking a rich man's daughter strippers; Bob friends saw her ***** first broken by man to know, understand, banana Friday wood & shall never be more accurately maintain the rain kiss his fingers & rubbed football field intensity stripper & favorite prostitutes torches pregnant attachment of guns on walls & **** the monster Bettie, in the sand many Chinese ghosts were buried w/ the check, hidden in the glass of the madness of the conversion; I'm not lean for instance, that there is a change in the gypsy of Borage on; I felt the light of the cause is as uncertain, the corner of the streets of the city which he loved & of loving Maecenas in the gift of Christ is not remembered against him; his marvelous month, which is the movement from the movement of the shadows of that which was the Jew's mom to hold the fate of the radio, the oldest daughters wilderness, in leather kiss garden angel calling soccer watching the sweating gun is quite common to see the whole stay in the dance's teeth penetrate the lights Einstein's story in an earthquake, fire is hot leaf state in an upright manner agreeable to bring the goddess' b/c the stranger in the volume of corporate bond stood up table started off w/ a license; they love the poor women of the girl's wife, for the eyes of the Mother of the man is naked, at midday there a long red the good of the black *** of him to be clearer than the space of the future, most beautifully poetic form the body of the land of the years my dead out of the black with dung are white snooch old age is a place for the great of the heat that is America, he thought, however, to find a piece of wood which was of gold the beauty of the face-**** queen has not left the boy poetry the old living mind hard is ******* room war poet woman said the money would stars hell the *** real thinking of death lost hair the kids knew that blood is better makes the baby all ***** & the blue city entrance of a great sea goddess Igor hands Community was drunk at the inside alum turned to the side of the well-favored harlot a kid in pieces, guy to the mouth of the of the work, to feel the wash yourself, paint, yeh, the wild animal & drunk Barbie, this stone of the hole's gay cool to retain Ivan's song of the rock, sweet food the lady noticed the mothers of the Russians, but the book of the course of the state of the under the window, the water brown in reality the young men of the material of the deep, perfect, leaving wet with the blind force of arms but the lips I write back w/ & yellow walking year of his friends nature of the brain mainly revolutionary society, online French feet, smoking soul filled w/ ****** dancing talk is heard guys care gold dream blonde asked ***** origin school secret floor eating glass spirit of evil brought club pretty sure evil genius ****; The gift of the silver, put to death the Christ, the park of the bed, the sister of the magic of the gods of the drink, the land of the flesh, I bequeath to the top of the invisible things of God with fasting many as he sat to conquer standing on the creature that turned every way, of the air as you walk, not to sacred orders, only the house of toes blow ye with the other before the collision the pen of the scribes, speaking to the fall of the power of Satan, the right machine learning, **** the angels of one of the richness of a dog Antony seas robot rich man's daughter strippers smoking alchemy, Bob of friends saw **** first boxing mortals know, understand Muse Friday tree blasts forever to more accurately place rain kiss his fingers and rubbed football field intensity stripper wind prostitutes torches pregnant feeling the guns on the walls are to **** the monster Bettie; many Chinese ghosts checking buried, hidden under the mirror of a madman, I'm not made lean as much as a change in a gypsy borage; I felt the light of the explanation of sleep a corner of the streets of the city he loved a lover of Maecenas of Christ, I remember wonderful Ladies who are moved by the beating of the shadows of what was to a Jewish mom to hold the fate of the radio, the oldest of the daughters of the wilderness, miss leather kissing in the garden where an angel calls soccer; watching the gun is looking sweaty enough to see by natural teeth dance stayed hot in the hairy lights of Einstein's story of earth moving leaf state fire done properly withdrawn bring the Goddess wear real b/c volume table starts to read down corporate tie newcomer stood wave license withdrawn; And they love the women, the girl married his mother naked as the day and a night the long red the good of the black *** of him is brighter than the space of this very beautifully, when the poetic form of the body region of the year of my dead out of the black with the dung of a white snooch, their old place in the great heat of America, & I thought that they found a piece of a piece of wood of the forced labor that King Solomon used were in the shape of the face, **** the queen, did not he let the boy in the ancient poetry, his hard ******* mind living room war poet; female stars saying they want money, hell, *** is the real thing; thinking of the lost by death a hair falling from the kids; they knew that the blood of man does better than baby ***** every time & of blue & of the city, the entrance into the sea & by the appearance of the goddess & apparel was Antonius, their families & the families of the drinks in the interior of alum, turning to the side of the well-favored harlot even a young goat being torn into pieces, a lot of words, and it is to feel didst wash thyself, and didst paint thee, yeh, I will not drink of the fruit of the wild beast of the beast of Barbie, this is the stone about gay cool ribbed tee of the hole's; there, that John's out of the rock songs is dripping with a small amount of the mistress of the mothers in Sumatra one of you, unless you are running free in the coot § times of the water, brown, boy, the material is totally lacking, leaving us wet as if a gust of wind force & arms are a precious back yellow walk; year of his friends nature of the brain mainly revolution society, online French feet smoking is filled with ****** dancing talk, I heard guys carrying the golden dream blonde asking the ***** the original school secret; floor eating glass evil spirits were brought club pretty sure bad pinging ****** a little bit too ****, the gift of the things of silver, of them who slew Christ, by way of a comparison w/ the park & bed; that it is magic & drink ye every one of the flesh, we read of the ages, invisible, the food is to them that sat clinical standing in the creation of the turning every way, to the upper air as you walk not to have known the sacred palaces of the fingers of the sound of the first the sense comes pen of the scribes to speak machine learning, just let the man escape Wolfe to the working of Satan, the dregs are at; the fat that of a dog, Anthony, the angels of one robot, smoking w/ a rich man is the daughter of strippers w/ lichen for Bob's ***** first knew the man to know the understanding of the 500 muses; the sixth to the log, not ranting in the rain, kissing w/ the fingers are rubbed the football field heat of the stripper the wind, that were harlots; the torches of pregnant affected by the torture of the walls to **** the monster Bettie, the sand of the many Chinese of the Spirit glass; mad checking was not an impediment to lean it to be a mutation of borage Glory on, I felt uncertain because the angle of the city he loves loving & Overview of the gift is not remembered against him; that is astonishing, that is, the movement of the noise from the movement of the shadow of which to the Jews was given to the fate of the radio, the oldest of the daughter of the wilderness of the hide of the kiss of the garden he calls an angel soccer watch football the fistula is quite common to see remaining in the whole of the dance, the teeth of the skin & the light, by means of Einstein's story of the earth, the movement, he was angry w/ himself & the leaf of fire, Currently correctly bringing the goddess foreign to "corporate" bond, b/c he is a stranger in volume stood on the table started off w/ license;
Black girl, his mother loves her *** exposed, day & night, flushed poet form carcass fair, what is perhaps the white **** from the white snooch, the old man gives attention to his voice, & heat, & America, & with these, & they found a piece of a piece of a piece as well wood & lead to tax the king in a face-to-face you & the queen do not leave a child who was w/ the old nanny of poetry; easily prostituted your mind to the chamber in line poet & the stars in the old saying, that in the form of power of God, the worship of God, & alum, & in the house of their fathers, the inside is brought to Antonius; part of the things are purchased wanton they are in the form of God, well-favored harlot, & a kid of the goats, for one thing, & one thing nor memorial, in his prose writings, he composed parts of a lot of the words of the, I think, & wash the paint, I will not drink of the fruit of the beasts of the field I have given to the fruits that thy ****** & the fruit of the theory of osculating this was new & the removal of Barbies, that is to say, from the cold of the Holy Spirit out of the rock of a cave, which is a stone about gay? & the pride of such a kind that of Tarquin the Proud, & his mother, of the song, confidence quite as much in God's dealing w/ cases & a Sarmatian tribe, from them that & in a few words? Nevertheless, both if not more than running after him, a gift of God, as described in the § in the time of a fire, the dark brown to brown, thick in the center of the infant's cause, it was granted to me, as being the things that are not lacking in him, that he must leave, which is to me the spirit, & stood in the creation of the air everywhere seeking higher compared to the walk into the vacuum machine; You might pen of the scribes to speak & to learn more, the body is, do not celebrate, we celebrate from the bunk in the celebrated, would have celebrated Wolfe, to the working of Satan, in the bottom, & the fat of the dog, of St. Anthony, & the angel, which is one, takes out the robot on fire in the city, & of all the cases, & the rich, & the daughters of strippers; developer to Bobbed ***** soon knowing that he has 500 bananas, a sixth is bad, or the loss of any one of you that you are ranting that the rain falls on me to begrudge her fingers the lowest battle field between the heat of the day from stripper winds that *******, home to brands off the rack, itching Einstein's history of earthquakes in the line of firepower to light; Currently, the angry farmer on the corporate board spoke volumes, stood on a table & started off w/ a license
Christmas Eve mass
The Ave Maria begins to play
Images start to run through my mind
Some of now and some not of this time

                    Ave Maria

I see the Manger before me with our dear Lord as a babe
It quickly switches to a stranger letting her babe be aborted away

                   Gratia plena
                   Maria, gratia plena
                   Maria, gratia plena
  

I see our Lord speak of peace
Then see our soldiers defending another's keep

                  Ave, ave dominus  
                  Dominus tecum

  
  I hear the mortar shells as they fly through the air
I hear our soldiers whisper their prayers

                Benedicta tu in muli eribus
                 Et benedictus
                 Et benedictus fructus ventris


I see Jesus take someone in
Only then to see someone not give a second look at the homeless man

                Ventris tuae, Jesus  
                  Ave Maria


A mother and child searching for shelter
Dressed only in thin clothes in a harsh winter

                 Ave Maria  
                 Mater Dei
                 Ora pro nobis peccatoribus
                 Ora pro nobis
                Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus


I see Him hung upon the cross
To now seeing a man beheaded for proclaiming his Christianity is not lost

                 Nunc et in hora mortis
                  Et in hora mortis nostrae
                  Et in hora mortis nostrae
                  Et in hora mortis nostrae            
                  Ave Maria


The song has now ended and my eyes are wet
The tears I let fall all for remembrance
Lest us not forget
These thoughts ran through my head during mass last night.  Merry Christmas everyone. Let is not forget....
Lewis Bosworth Sep 2016
The second amendment might
As well be the sixty-ninth, for all
The life-long days it saves by
The transparent and glossy shields
Adorning blue-skied uniforms.

The strike zone is limited to the
Mobility-enhanced limbs, out of
Reach of the cardiac plateau, in
A line guarded by “I heart NYC”
Leftover campaign buttons.

Crowds question the timeless yet
Disintegrating rhetoric, and they
Sing along with misspelled threats
To sanguine attempts at love and
War, while grade schoolers watch.

What’s missing from this libretto
Is a slogan like “if they go low, we
Go high” and the money to borrow
It, or the right to use the copyright,
As long as it doesn’t get ******.

“Now hear this,” bellows the man in
The crow’s nest, stepping in front
Of his stepson who brandishes a
BB gun proudly in his arms, “the
Curfew starts at midnight!”

Dona nobis pacem, a canon of
Faith, is hummed by the last ranks
Of veterans in camouflage, hoping
To initiate a temporary calm among
The bleak and ****** crew.

A clown-faced poet attempts to draw
A smile, as she calls for an absentee
Ballot, a circuitous frontage road
Away from destiny, some think,
And a short breath of recess.

“Take away their weapons,” hollers
A very pregnant woman, who goes
Into labor, blaming the guns for her
Untimely reward, and for a moment,
Just minutes, the midwifery begins.

All this while a small coterie of men
Gathers, silently taking in the show,
Unnoticed in their pretense, but
Sporting the heritage caps of the
NRA, stars and stripes in their lapels.

The disingenuous players in this sad
Drama are about to fold their tents,
To chicken out, to return to tacos
And beer, when stillness breaks,
So much so that crickets rule.

A small boy crosses the street, his
Smile contagious, his gait strong
As he approaches the men and
Says “I am you before now, be
Of peace and good cheer.

“My commandments have no
Amendments, no magic exceptions,
No golden calves, no wicked step-
Mothers, only a heart and soul,
I am the moral of your story.”  

© Lewis Bosworth, 2016
Parable Ad Libitum Ex Varna: “In the lower and higher, a certain anti-demonological air carried a Keri towards the sails of the Procorus rituals, extending the Eurydice ship that came from Rhodes. He had on the floor of his cell some branches of Tamarisks, like Tarayes that vanished due to their quality when they expired in his own monk's feet and became perennial in his Oikodomeo, to raise with the Taray the re-transformation essences of the lexeme of greenness conventional in Patmos, being very deflowered in periods with high tempers, only with some secretions in which Procorus felt adventitious of its reflowering, from there and then in the anemophilous advantages of the winds released from the belly in sedimentary veins of Rhodes. In its alchemical anemophilia or movement of the inseminating winds, the subtle soil vanished with the force of the Lion of Sulfur that derived from the Cinnabar, and with the Anemoi wind that was impregnated in the capsules of the Tamarisk, under the feet of the acolyte. In the aquifer of the groundwater phreatic layer on Patmos, remnants were scattered so that in Pro Nobis they lay their demonologies, sponsoring Persian magics of the Post-Gaugamela Lid, I get in the Ex Varna with re-transfigured iridescence on Mount Tabor.

Procorus says: “This Tamarix or Tamarisk, has poured the limits of our Oikodomeo, to retain the surface plate and reuse it in absorbing the fire under my feet, compelling them to readjust under the igneous soil concentrated in the cinnabar residue, carrying the dermal prototype towards the saturated bottom of the salt larvae, which imposed themselves on the bruised beam of their skill, in some bundles of Tamarisks, showing themselves innocuous in the cloister imagination and right here asphyxiated by some Chaldean tribes, who felt themselves from the stand of illusionism of the Ex Varna ”.

In the compaction of this epic hyper fantasy in that instant, the dedication of the Gift was born to interpret the subtlety of two-dimensional variety that would seem until now, under the layers that were contaminated out of nowhere, by the mere fact of the whim of the augur momentum, which is finally restricted in the morphism of the Katapausis and the chamber of San Juan Apostle, being finally supported by layers and shawls of subterranean aqueous filters, towards a restructuring of the Euclidean plane and towards the vicinity of the plantar pedestrian zones of Procorus that were three-dimensional already in the construction of the Oikodomeo, for the foundation of the Náos or temple, which would be triggered when the Hexagonal Progeny arrived to build the Vernarthian temple with gifts of multi-purgatory construction, for the Oikos in Abode of the social unit of Aquarian spirits or Aqua that is terminated at the end of Capricorn dehorned. In mutual edifying peace and between both zodiacal proximities of the Oikodom, here every day spectra purged and rubbed each other in the archetype of the Megaron, which was intended to give in oblations and votive connections in the massages that the spirits of the Vernarthian universe gave them in their spiritual mortar, reconverted in their eternal fight to live in friction and in the brown partitions of the Megaron bloodless to inaugurate it as a solid bulwark, in the weak regions of the Hetairoi that cellularly snatches vitality co-energized in their extremities, of total imbalance and of bumpy patrons maneuvered on their feet crawling towards the karmic Saetas of Velos Toxeumas and Dorus unscathed. But feverish and threatening their integrity, when they fell and stepped on the Euclidean edge, opening from the designs of the Hellenic palfrey, becoming parametric in the paranasal of Kanti and their neighborhood spatiality in the Parthenon of Fidas, with Ikríomas or scaffolding that made them collapse of its coordinates with Mamdilaria and Agiogitiko wine baths on the Vernarthian body between the columnar of its Sabines and of the Greek colonies of Lacedaemonians of the 4th century BC. C., already entering into borders of synchronicity from the Erechtheion, falling from the Caelum, near all his teachers who helped him install the final tiles of the temple, next to them drunk with Nepenthe, by nozzles of intense rain of vine in the silent afternoon of the Inter-Cosmos of Athena, Handing them the poison of Velos Toxeumas, a priori... and before attacking any skin that wants to revive itself in the inoculated Vernarthian dreams.

(Procorus, manifested himself solidly in his solitude when he saw that Lacedaemonians and beings of the night accompanied him, in contrast to the dark light that allowed him with a single chandelier to expand more inaccessible in the semiglyphs and in the grooves of the Megaron, which glowed synarchically. in the plans of the new Monastery of Saint John the Theologian)
Parable Ad Libitum Ex Varna
Katzenberg Aug 2015
"Through grim and void we march towards freedom,
we are all proud by serving the original Vow.
Confronting the dreams of solitude and awe,
our eyes will burst with tears by remembering home."- Spoke the youngest of all, and the elders listened.

"Our smiles will freeze like an old photograph,
and that burden is expected decay and colapse some day.
Finding two men alive from five, saving two souls by killing ten. It ain't worth it." - Said the captain to the *****.
"Our children will forgive you for being a murderer."- She replied.
"Will we ever forgive ourselves for being murerers?": The enemy thought before he walked into the tent and killed them both.

"There's no phoenix rising, only a lifetime of carrion
and a hostile wind that will carry our ashes across the battllefield."- Said the drinking middle aged man to the Bartender.
"We curse them, they curse us, there is no good side neither bad, sir, just a special feeling of threat, and some kind of love for killing. It's unforgiving, but it doesn't matter at all. We still die."- Interrupted the youngest of all.

And from the distance was heard:
"Let us cut through the ominous throat of the land!
Let us march upon destruction in the name of love!
Fatal wounded, disarmed, violated, murdered, we don't care!
Because we are laughing at the grave of a lost friend,
we conceive destiny and grin to the blood moon.
Oh! Mater Bellum ora pro nobis.
Nobis hoc ostenderent. Sancta pulchra bellicum.."*

   And the land was painted in red, the men dead and a strange smell crawled in the air. The songs stopped, the laughs went silent. There was nothing and nothing happened . Just one red drop in the sea of blue.
I'm sorry, I was listening Death in June while writing this.
Derek Yohn Oct 2013
The fall of Rome is upon us.
I have spied it from my window,
i dare not intrude.

venimus
vidimus
vicimus
(ourselves)

The slaves are in revolt;
the Colliseum burns,
flames tenderly licking
destruction and freedom,
a beacon in the
dark autumn night;
Carthage has embraced
its high sodium diet,
it now seeks equality;
the Senate lies in ruin,
much as it always has,
now bereft of contributors.

Ego autem relictus solus devius,
faciamus nobis effugium.

Come, fair plebian lady,
get in my chariot,
i will 'Billy Ocean' you
all the way
to the end of the world,
because some things never change.

veni
vidi
vici
NOTHING
per memet

ita reliqui,
empty-handed
my new fair plebian in tow.

Roma victa.
translations:  
"Ego...devius" = i am the only deviant left now
"faciamus...effugium" = let us make our escape
"per memet" = single-handedly (literally, by myself)
"ita reliqui" = so i left
"Roma victa" = rome conquered, or victory to rome
" veni vidi vici" = i came i saw i conquered (i used the plural "we" instead of "i" the first time
Teen angst poetry
dribbled in red pen.
Well, ideally.
I only have black type.

In fact, I never have experienced
teen angst. I only have
the perpetual piece of blackandred
corners me alone

The beast beneath my bed ceases
whenever daddy checks
but I never had a daddy
only a mommy valiantly battling the
blackandred demons her daddy
never scared away either.

and in the
end we feel nothing nothing can
touch us. We are the empty rusty
pail crying out from the Dripdripdrip of
our loneliness because no one comes in
because, in the foggy glass, no one can see each other
and coldandclammy jostling elbows
do Not touch- NeverNever

We hope the redhot heart of the
lovers we hold so closely will defrost
our windshields to the world and let in
Lightlovehopejoyhappiness
Contentment

AND THEN
I have hope enough
that the monsterinmycloset
cannot grip my dangling elbow. Hope that the steep
fall of bladeandblood and littleroundpills
Always stays a few feet away

I call and pray for stray sunbeams.

Later- I pull
out the quicksilver shards of glass
from my eyes and under my polluted
fingernails.
I shrug off their sodden coats.
I won't borrow burdens. Anymore.
So that my light may shine encore
Abeaconpillar of radiance
Est deus in nobis
Noah Oct 2015
a thousand eyes follow you from newly waxed floors
and trail after me with form-filled labels, white on gold
take as needed; do not operate machinery; relax.
the shadows follow our steps, ***** and blood next to God’s poster love.
pin it to the bathroom wall: peccavi, peccavi

two years, fifteen minutes, miles of scars.
we sleep through the days, and whisper
of nights before the hurricane

("what happened to those two?")
                                                     ("Deus misereatur, the storm took them.")

I daydream of sinking my teeth into the flesh of redemption,
to rip muscle from immaculate bone.
can we not move on?
copper denial drips from our jaws.

and Deo gratias, they say, you survived.
limbless and naked on tiled floors.
Deo gratias et Deus mortuus est.
survival is in our veins.

I watch you waiting in LCD purgatory
as you see my fingers bleed into the vinyl shielded couches of the 12am ER

perception through observation — I let you reveal who I am.
what am I feeling? how do I act?
breathing through each other with liquor in our lungs.
I know how the bile tastes in your throat,
and you know the burn of the whiskey on my tongue

why do we still reach for walls
where cicada-shell notices cling with scotch tape?
take a number and restore the riches;
leave the room and tear them down.

who but God can build over the ruins of fallen cities, fallen worlds?
and ora pro nobis, He is yet unwelcome here.


we are holy, in our own names we pray, and Hallelujah, we are saved
pretentious **** based on the experiences my close friend Xander and i went through idk. here's to 2+ years up from rock bottom, man. we've got this.
Wes Noneya Feb 2017
Satietatem potare dulci nectare tua desiderium ego
Ad nos transeat, usque mane
Nostra corpora convol
Corpora nostra lusibus
Sol ortus, Sitis commoratur

Amorem vivere devora tua suavita
Vitae caelestis
Nostra ad et aut angelus diaboli
Quod viget, vitae singulis nobis,
Retorta peccatorum gaudium de salute nos

Corpora *** carnis luxuriam
Tenebrae concupiscentiis saginatus
Dolorem voluptatem servus
Impium impium fames
Sanctus diversitas peccatorum

Ita et nos, in manus nostras et amore peccatorum nos
Nos ad unum corpus est cor

Translation Latin to English

I drink my fill of sweet nectar of your desire
To pass to us until morning
Our bodies roll
Our bodies dance
The sun rises, thirst lingers

Love, live, eat your sweetness
heavenly life
Our call to the devil or an angel
That is active, the life of each of us,
Twisted sins, the joy of our salvation

Bodies with carnal lust
Dark desires fed
Pain and pleasure slave
wicked, wicked hunger
Holy diversity of sins

Even so we, in our hands, and the love of our sins
We are one body and heart

~Wes Noneya

My Latin isn't the best but I gave it a go. I like both versions.
Terry Collett Dec 2013
Converte nos, Sister Teresa whispered, leaning forward in the darkness of the church; convert us, she repeated, sensing the infirmarian nun beside her, hearing the breath and muttered prayers. She had insisted on being wheeled into the church for Compline; had got her way; was pleased she was in the pew where she'd sat for the last ten years. She loved the silence before it all began; the sense of space; the soft opening of the Confiteor, the movement of bodies like a wave of water over the blacked-out walls and high roof of the church. She brought her arthritic hands together; dug deep for a fresh prayer, but all was used; all had done before; all spread wide over her life of contemplation; in and out of her light and alternating darkness. The infirmarian muttered something. Sister Teresa shrugged her shoulders; inclined her ear; moved her head and unseeing eyes. Was it Sister Bernadette? Or was it another? She couldn't tell; all were the same in her darkness, except the touch; hand on hand; whispered words. Long ago, Jude or Judas had kissed; had betrayed. The sound of footsteps on flagstones; the rustle of habits and clicking beads; a sense of breathing and life; entering into the shared darkness and blackness, except for the red altar light to inform of the Crucified's presence and the all-seeing-eye. Sighed. Waited. Held breath. Reached for the sister's hand or arm to reassure, to sense she was not alone in the dark and that she had not died and sunk to dimness and damnation of another dark. The infirmarian tapped her hand. Relief. Converte nos, she mumbled, convert us, she repeated. The Confiteor opened up as if the whole world had breathed out in one voice; had poured out the world's sins in a soft eruption of voices. She breathed in. Clutched her hands. Wanted the closeness and nearness of all; wanted to be held; to be kissed; wanted to see the face of the sister beside her who sat close and whispered her own Confiteor. Ora pro nobis, she whispered, pray for us, let me not be lost in this darkness. Where was Papa? Where is Mama? Clare where are you? she muttered, her eyes searching the blackness, reaching out with a hand into the empty space before her. Hand on hand. Whispered voice. The chant rose and fell like a gentle sea carrying the prayers of the black-robed sisters. Jude or Judas and the kisses and betrayal. Dead now; all dead; all gone. Left here, she muttered, like a beached fish, flapping on the emptying sands of my hourglass like a whimpering child. She clutched her breast; sensed a pain. Leaned her head neatly on the sister's shoulder; sank slowly into her arms like a child searching for its mother's breast and the comforting embrace of warmth and love. Stillness. Peace. Darkness. Light.
Concluding prose poem in the series that began with Matins 1907.
Lewis Bosworth Sep 2016
The second amendment might
As well be the sixty-ninth, for all
The life-long days it saves by
The transparent and glossy shields
Adorning blue-skied uniforms.

The strike zone is limited to the
Mobility-enhanced limbs, out of
Reach of the cardiac plateau, in
A line guarded by “I heart NYC”
Leftover campaign buttons.

Crowds question the timeless yet
Disintegrating rhetoric, and they
Sing along with misspelled threats
To sanguine attempts at love and
War, while grade schoolers watch.

What’s missing from this libretto
Is a slogan like “if they go low, we
Go high” and the money to borrow
It, or the right to use the copyright,
As long as it doesn’t get ******.

“Now hear this,” bellows the man in
The crow’s nest, stepping in front
Of his stepson who brandishes a
BB gun proudly in his arms, “the
Curfew starts at midnight!”

Dona nobis pacem, a canon of
Faith, is hummed by the last ranks
Of veterans in camouflage, hoping
To initiate a temporary calm among
The bleak and ****** crew.

A clown-faced poet attempts to draw
A smile, as she calls for an absentee
Ballot, a circuitous frontage road
Away from destiny, some think,
And a short breath of recess.

“Take away their weapons,” hollers
A very pregnant woman, who goes
Into labor, blaming the guns for her
Untimely reward, and for a moment,
Just minutes, the midwifery begins.

All this while a small coterie of men
Gathers, silently taking in the show,
Unnoticed in their pretense, but
Sporting the heritage caps of the
NRA, stars and stripes in their lapels.

The disingenuous players in this sad
Drama are about to fold their tents,
To chicken out, to return to tacos
And beer, when stillness breaks,
So much so that crickets rule.

A small boy crosses the street, his
Smile contagious, his gait strong
As he approaches the men and
Says “I am you before now, be
Of peace and good cheer.

“My commandments have no
Amendments, no magic exceptions,
No golden calves, no wicked step-
Mothers, only a heart and soul,
I am the moral of your story.”  

© Lewis Bosworth, 2016
Rey de los hidalgos, señor de los tristes,
que de fuerza alientas y de ensueños vistes,
coronado de áureo yelmo de ilusión;
que nadie ha podido vencer todavía,
por la adarga al brazo, toda fantasía,
y la lanza en ristre, toda corazón.Noble peregrino de los peregrinos,
que santificaste todos los caminos
con el paso augusto de tu heroicidad,
contra las certezas, contra las conciencias
y contra las leyes y contra las ciencias,
contra la mentira, contra la verdad...¡Caballero errante de los caballeros,
varón de varones, príncipe de fieros,
par entre los pares, maestro, salud!
¡Salud, porque juzgo que hoy muy poca tienes,
entre los aplausos o entre los desdenes,
y entre las coronas y los parabienes
y las tonterías de la multitud!¡Tú, para quien pocas fueron las victorias
antiguas y para quien clásicas glorias
serían apenas de ley y razón,
soportas elogios, memorias, discursos,
resistes certámenes, tarjetas, concursos,
y, teniendo a Orfeo, tienes a orfeón!Escucha, divino Rolando del sueño,
a un enamorado de tu Clavileño,
y cuyo Pegaso relincha hacia ti;
escucha los versos de estas letanías,
hechas con las cosas de todos los días
y con otras que en lo misterioso vi.¡Ruega por nosotros, hambrientos de vida,
con el alma a tientas, con la fe perdida,
llenos de congojas y faltos de sol,
por advenedizas almas de manga ancha,
que ridiculizan el ser de la Mancha,
el ser generoso y el ser español!¡Ruega por nosotros, que necesitamos
las mágicas rosas, los sublimes ramos
de laurel Pro nobis ora, gran señor.
¡Tiembla la floresta de laurel del mundo,
y antes que tu hermano vago, Segismundo,
el pálido Hamlet te ofrece una flor!Ruega generoso, piadoso, orgulloso;
ruega casto, puro, celeste, animoso;
por nos intercede, suplica por nos,
pues casi ya estamos sin savia, sin brote,
sin alma, sin vida, sin luz, sin Quijote,
sin piel y sin alas, sin Sancho y sin Dios.De tantas tristezas, de dolores tantos
de los superhombres de Nietzsche, de cantos
áfonos, recetas que firma un doctor,
de las epidemias, de horribles blasfemias
de las Academias,
¡líbranos, Señor!De rudos malsines,
falsos paladines,
y espíritus finos y blandos y ruines,
del hampa que sacia
su canallocracia
con burlar la gloria, la vida, el honor,
del puñal con gracia,
¡líbranos, Señor!Noble peregrino de los peregrinos,
que santificaste todos los caminos,
con el paso augusto de tu heroicidad,
contra las certezas, contra las conciencias
y contra las leyes y contra las ciencias,
contra la mentira, contra la verdad...¡Ora por nosotros, señor de los tristes
que de fuerza alientas y de ensueños vistes,
coronado de áureo yelmo de ilusión!
¡que nadie ha podido vencer todavía,
por la adarga al brazo, toda fantasía,
y la lanza en ristre, toda corazón!
Nerilia Xekoen Dec 2018
Arsiana - este valentis caoleste,

memento incredia axare?

Arsiana - et non revetermur

millenia ecrides existenco?

Nobis ecalea in monti vidimus et stellas.

Arsiana - solo est valentis expectabo domum redire,

redire et domum, Arsiana.



Solo est caonillum neo,

e momentum:

stella vivere, vivere stella ecridia


Memento, Arsiana?

Memento incredia axare?

Millenia veo amorphia et inma caonillum, Arsiana.

Qualentis elara nobis in monti streo caenma

Aeonis, aeonia, arinme:

Onmia et estera.



Memento, Arsiana?
This is the original form of the poem and it's written on Ancient Latin language. I have translated it on my mother language (Bulgarian).  I think, the poem is still beautiful in her real form. Sometimes even when you don't understand what it means, you can feel it through the words. I'm working on the english translation as well.
L Nicole Sep 2014
you scare me, a hidden gem
i am afraid of what could happen

i wonder where you walk and i wonder what you think

has the cross corrupted you
who has turned you so cold

i will be there when you get your wings
and the soothing echo of those classical sounds will pass

into a new choir of faith and acceptance
maybe then when all becomes bright, i will see your eyes
for what they truly are

a black ocean with enough depth to deceive me
into thinking i am only stepping into a shallow pool

a bitter tongue with the tonality of an angel
you can rest your voice as the tears take over

dómine fili unigénite, iesu christe,
dómine deus, agnus dei, fílius patris,
qui tollis peccáta mundi, miserére nobis;
qui tollis peccáta mundi, súscipe deprecatiónem nostram

i will be with you until you find yourself

if you are lost

i will be lost with you
#h
The Variation Feb 2018
Lonely voices tear at me,
Sibilent whispering with no end.
Caress my collarbone,
Taste every inch of the skin.

Asinine bleeding, lost on me,
Raging fire inside my skull.
Corrupting and rusting
my being inside.

Beautiful afflictions **** the mind,
Rancid and fleeting, indiscriminate.

In nobis mortuus deambulatio,
Morbus animorum detracta.

Requiem lost among the dead,
Dreamers lose hope after drought,
Rectifying the overdose.

— The End —