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Colt Jul 2013
for Those who eat ramen by choice, or not.*

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by disillusionment,
lacking egotistical sold, dragging themselves through the hip streets at dawn
looking for a socially self-aggrandizing fix.
Poets, as they sit in desks and discuss discourse
about discourse about discourse about discourse,
who fear that thinking itself was buried with Vonnegut,
who are lost in forests of brick walls,
inviting, because they block the wind of dying fall,
who swim in cesspools filled with academic sewage, yearning for freedom,
for truth, as they always have,
mining their minds for images, and searching for words to describe
-a reality which is virtual at its core and each act, another chore./
-a scene of life which reflects all that is poignant and sacred.
Poets seek musicians while musicians seek poets.
and the dog chases its tail, endlessly
and the dog chases its tail, endlessly
and the dog chases its tail, endlessly

These poets who search aimlessly for the feeling of feeling,
who are overwhelmed with meaning to the point where meaning
has no meaning in itself.
Who claim this poem as their own and continuously write themselves into it.
It is those who suffer in truth that live the poetic.
Those who sit in front of space heaters eating peanut butter sandwiches in winter,
who sweat unknowingly in summer, comforted in each’s odor.
Those who open Macbooks while squatting in empty flats.
Signing up, logging in and zoning out, forever disengaged.
Those who type prophecy on keypads and let keyboards gather dust-
stratification, signs of long nights spent in century-old homes still not renovated,
ceilings sinking at the sides while those above pogo to punk rock long dead,
or grind genitals to old soul, simulating all that is sensual.
Those who play archaeologist to their own layers of makeup, grimed on the sink.
Those who share their food with the roaches and the mooches who all have keys,
who use the books as shelves to hold ceramic mugs, stained with a single drip-drop,
who, with arms crossed, watch bands in basements play noise.
Those who replaced their nu-metal records with folk but kept the unkempt beards.
Those who drink stale beer on stranger’s rooftops.
Those who live with bags under eyes, themselves asleep, lacking a body,
sleeping naked together to stay warm,
sleeping naked together to stay sane,
sleeping naked together to stay touched.

Those who leave coffee in unplugged automatic pots, decaying rapidly.
Those who eat pizza for breakfast, cold or microwaved, as an act of ultimate indulgence.
Those who prance about in un-matching socks
from hardwood floors to vinyl floors to tile floors, all under the same popcorn ceiling,
dancing to the sound of rhythmic silence.
Those who fight with lovers about acts, but never once mention the act of love itself.
Those who don flannel plaid in springtime color, constructing Williamsburg,
who consider gentrification a new form of landed gentry,
who live in poverty as if it were a novelty,
capitalist martyrs sacrificing employment to hide being non-hirable,
who shop in online surplus department stores for unique vintage.
Those who, who, who hoot like the owls framed on their walls, eyes wide but beaks small.
Those who are oppressed by nonexistent kings ruling in imaginary suits.
Those who crave something new, not tired-as the form of this very poem-
something which is not-yet auto-tuned.
Those who, faux-hawked and shredded, rock and bop to Bowie doing Lou
on Sunday Morning from Station to Station shooting ******,
who walk swiftly with denim skin on their legs and refuse socks.
Those who, in their rightest mind, are the wrongest-minded.
Those who can reject privilege only because they are privileged,
who, in their uniform whiteness, denounce racism,
who, in their uniform straightness, claim immune to homophobia
who, with their ***** ***** in a row, claim to be feminists.

And those who search for revolution in a time when rebellion is conformity.
Listening to the  pounding sound of blog-protesters typing n o w.
who, in claiming to accept, don’t accept the unaccepting,
who got veggies tattooed on their sides while snapping bacon in their teeth,
who ironically infiltrated asylums and performed madness until the shocks came
and they were maddened, for good, eaten alive by volts resounding
ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.
Who sleep naked together to be together but end up being alone,
exchanges from lips that move in pretentious drone,
and the dog chases its tail, endlessly.
When the abnormal is normal and the whole structure is inverted and
heaven is here and flames under the soil are no longer hell burning for soles of the
Converse, Adidas, and Nike sneakers on the bicycle pedals of poets who ride at night,
listening to the sound of owls that question:
who?
whoo?
whooo?
Vernarth sequence

Prophecy I -  “Eighth month of sailing in systemic plenitude”

“Since they will not hunt us down in all our Itheoi cycles…
nor in other lapses from where the fine eye could have sewn the buttonholes of the shroud, where there will be life and if there will be a short time without life...
dragged by you for a long time where the sun is melted over the word, staying stored and locked in your pocket to collect it blushing,
tomorrow's jump without a yesterday declining..., without a tomorrow in the heat of a bonfire...
lamb in bait handled being the portal of those who have been slapped inside their cheeks… who will not shorten the cycle that transcends all the oblong sepulchral vaults or who abound in the nonsense of sanitizing nights of ***** despot life having to measure themselves in your flourishing duel by Aiónius of the cleanest dew of its solid stroke and announced delineation of the new one that has been retraced again being more than a brief syllable created again fertile, in the biosphere mouth so as not to see you omnipresent mist, meditating not having you and that dares to meditate on your future that will have to be reserved for yourself by professing it when you are cold in front of you and insinuating if in living followed by letters to be flooded pondering like a paralyzed sleeping part that wants not to be covered with feigned warmth and that does not fit in all the parts of me being who wants to be consul of some shelter with all those who sleep also half dreaming in the company of the lost afternoon that never ends serving Saint John in Katapausis here, perhaps Aiónius del Ibico 1 as a magnificent and net unit that sees the luminous truth when we all come out of a prophecy alive even if it's dark ".

"What a reckless job of losing value,
I am already in Katapausis in the eighth month...,
I entered as the light opened with my hand turned into the light...
being already a katapausis meaning in Sabbatarianism.
Quasi-unit method exhibiting cohesion to the rest motif
With levers in my hands and intra-sabbatism in his dissertation...
of an exegetical and theological nature that has transpired soft insomniac light, We are a people who do not have to fear or air to deposit for a future warehouse above the Sycamore or birds that guard all the Gold above my hands on the Sycamore…”

"Stay in my house, if I don't come back it will be yours
stay at home, it will belong to everyone even in the apocalypse...
that more reckless will be silent as a work of losing value,
Katapausis is the threshold where my life enters and leaves at once,
stay at my house, if I don't come back it will be yours...
Open windows by meekly closing them to that confronted obverse to you...

He comes from a den relativized on reliefs in weathered beads...
they will be soluble mineral beings convened moving away from the most distant and closest to the least distant…, from waters of underground siphons… there we will all be floating… like vertebrate invertebrate animals”

Vernarth, after not entering the grotto not having found Saint John, goes outside where he goes on a campaign for three months before he can be received by God's law. Here he meets with Reader and his pelican, as well as Eurydice.


Prophecy II -  “Seventh, Inter-synergy energy”

“Three months I have waited in the middle of this mountain,
symmetrically arranging the steps to be taken, not going backward
prana of life walking in oceans of life walking…
us and them… how much must separate us to reach us?
what I have not tried to separate…, what I have not been able to achieve…

I think I died early in the worlds that haven't risen yet,
I think I was reborn late among dense curves that overwhelm us with straight lines
soul, principle, matter, and material distinctive ontology
Ghost god of parallelisms beings and activities in affinity...
starvation body of low energy ceasing creatures in embryo
incessant firstborn to infuse other confining souls
trails demons slip where my ashes hands are sore
wounded doctrines to engender and doctrines to ulcerate...

As the prophecy uses the sea carrying messages resolved from shore to shore
close to a Virtual why in the twilight your Faith that must be glandular… matter of soul and body exposed to predisposing theological and chemical, in pursuit of the corruptible whole in vice versa if he does not burst with atheistic impatience.”

Eurydice takes a zither and sings tempting stormy actions to Vernarth, Raeder and Petrobus put their souls in line in the first linear principle, Together with the matter of corporeal fire proceeding to the definition where all the parts are confirmed without distinction dancing next to them creating the greatest bond of faith in body and soul, thus spending the three months in a few words of light of the sated fire.

"In the eighth-month katapausis, eight times your permanent peace must rest in
cited state; once it is translated into Sabbathisms and it will be the same state… When everyone finishes their dance in the cave and enters believing they have the courage to enter eight times in connection with rest…, plus eight times in connection without rest.
In some verses, the urgency of the entrance will be accentuated. The main issue “is that history will be repeating itself exactly where the Israelites were at Kadesh-Barnea. A related term either synonymous with Kadesh or referring to one of two sites, is Kadesh (or Qadesh) Barnea. Various etymologies for Barnea have been proposed, including 'wilderness of travel' but none have produced a broad consensus. What is the consensus? will we stop believing or lean on the shores of a preacher rain of Jehovah or lean on the shores of a preacher sinful waterfall or lean on the shores of a preacher confessing rain or lean on the shores of a preacher wet wind inquisitor...? where ever the aromas of its faithful winds served will go sacred to everything named before and many before the confessing rainy…, waterfalls in favor of the temperamental inquisitor wind”.

Astheneiais”, in Greek is and will be a weakness, in Hebrews a moral connotation and will mean not only physical weakness but a conscious weakness and trembling in temptation. Our Lord also understands us in this weakness because he was tempted in every way as we are. Since he himself was tempted he knows from experience what it means for us to be tempted. He was not tempted in all the particulars of our life, for example, He was not tempted as a husband or father, owner or employer or soldier, because he was none of these things. But he was tempted in all three areas of human susceptibility: body, soul, and spirit.

Prophecy III -  “Sixth, Resilience…”

“They were on the perimeter trying to keep me together at his command,
I go every day for its pantry, food, groceries, bookstore supplies and ink, oils, and other essences for the environment in continuous handwritten obedience, I have to leave for Skalá where some residents are waiting for me who have ordered to bring materials from Gricos and Psili Ammos to project your home,
If this has been written like this, it is because my pleasure in walking has written it, in the company of the one, he has written for the one who walks next to me the god Ibicus!

They always asked me why to mention why I have to do this for them… I will tell you that I used to serve leaders who consolidate the Hellenic geography,
without them, everything would have been invaded by unled foreign hands… in that rest, I have to attend to the verse that precedes it...
which says that we have already entered where I already intend to argue the following…

Resilience and exhortation that from the beginning I have taken since it began... now I will abide by and present your messages in a very predominant note, I was Hoplite Commander of the Falange and Hetairoi, now a Christian who does not dispute living a life of obedience to those who are not and are not without his martyrs...
like those people to whom God swore they will not enter my rest
whose amen will be preached in the passive voice verse!

Remain as the verb indicates with the real facts, the word
independent of the present, independent of who and when…
Saint Gabriel my Abrahamic angel will give me white strength and frolicking lilies like baskets of hermaphroditic lilies procreating only-begotten forests at the altar.

Stand tall over the Abrahamic fire without knuckles or shields,
rethink your beloved woman and take a sudden step to heal your wounds there is so much grass to cut and so much poetry to chew...
up the mountain towards Skalá at night after drinking wine
Epitrapezios Inos setting fire with innocuous saffron atmosphere
lips of fire and bread, for a good offensive fight.
Greek fire naphtha, cinnabar, and anthracite.

Wake up united with the deep disorder
Grant the color that deserves to have your day as a constellation
with the image that rests on your angular and calloused hands.
stopping spaces of loss more than all the centuries that waited for the minimum incense to a good warrior, sweet wine for open bleeding wound not his… the thunder that hides baptisms in all hearts empty of blood...

“While Vernarth was praying in the oracle he felt a thunderous supra sound As if the gates of hell had opened...
As if millions of seconds of angels were to be dispersed from the sky
To reduce more seconds of silence to the thinnest pleading eardrum

A few days ago I saw a ghost that was chopping wood...
I couldn't realize that he was really Him...,
I also saw him cutting thousands of volumes from a library...
Also, not realizing it, I saw several, like more than eighty manuscripts..., of breaths that still did not prosper in the hands of San Marcos...

A gigantic door slam is felt again...!
again it was the angels that came
at the wrong time in his return..., but now in his repatriation
they climbed through and into the Garden of Eden.”

Vernarth, evicted from the habit of the unknown, was apprehended by his craftsmanship of him, he was still attentive to be received by San Juan. The longer he waited to be arranged for an audience, he did not postpone what his memory pointed out to be more than an experience plotting capacities in the face of his own limitations. From that moment on, a gigantic gate slam is felt again! the angels who went back one after another with their polished golden-white cloaks relapsed..., but now making the Garden of Eden their own,... being theirs in what was theirs, that they would be in the house of a wise gardener of Eden perhaps being the same Katapausis manger at once!

Raeder says: hugging him profusely! time has to fly like little angels, having them by your side as companions of the time that is leftover on their wings, giving it all to your enjoyment of living and feeling it lost in you without finding it. ! khaire mi Vernarth!, I have some karidopitas with nuts and yogurt accompanied by baklava with nuts in delicious syrup from Kalymnos. Petrobus jumped for joy and fluttered like a hummingbird to steal a few pieces! Eurydice and Vernarth did the same. That night they told militia stories while they ate the morsels, so they fell asleep as if it had been the first time they had fought such a great menu. Euridice assists in the same with his fresh clean face, creating an atmosphere of conciliation to renew the dream of a day that will dawn close to his waking up far from the criminals. Vernarth takes the staff from him from then on and divides books and manuscripts into two portions so that he has time to take steps to really feel that he can walk close to Saint John.

Prophecy IV -  "Fifth, Nature, Manuscripts and Jophiel"

“Zeus wakes up trembling, full of headaches saturated with Herbs for headaches Jophiel speaking this time with the Kabbalistic language of the Torah...with golden commoner super zone of the Organikon Sorousliston Papadikon….age-old music that supplies Zeus with protein albumin, to make him more human…Zeus accepts Jophiel by placing his head about the house of Jophiel; a divine island to throw cards…brings the second ray to the Sahasrara at the crown of your head, pacifying love that is the suspicious and risky loser of everything risk in the head especially when a feeling is born!

Zeus turns his head and Jophiel twists it to the opposite side
about the ruined zeros that he did not count from the plasma of his dependency, Zeus feared having albumin at risk of human transmutation... happy to be able to cry he imagines slipping into the middle of a lake and he sees that he falls on Hera's poultry harming none, Zeus pours brimstone from his mouth and milks inelegant prose from the scythe…

Trina flame whose son bears glorious her bearer,
thousands of lives being clumsy for the wisest destitute
being what in the present you were more than past trine
when you harbor from Hanael's Blue Sodalite quarry
the imperfect perfects when you listen to your
body how it beats, how it breathes... you realize that it is perfect
as is Jophiel and discerns repairing the wisdom in the decisive punt
where gum rosin myrrh and multi urban frankincense go
towards the soul plane architecture of the human plane.
Hardened Zeus overflows glazed sallow emulsion of war
coagulated exhausting guarantor of everything is well,
books of the silent world of nails that do not sound sheets,
Hanael in massive books divides sounding with her iris gel-colored nails encrypted library manuscript of a thousand years, the voluptuous organism of a thousand years…
flapping unpredictable millennia and wiry hands,
colossal capstans…, annihilated with a thousand years…
a silly propeller that spins like a sickle rolling over a certain holistic tabernacle of the small portion of the next day when Zeus awoke to the diaphanous threatening light with sunless cloud waistband…
His face is seen with frowns and he looks at his face as well
without seeing folds…but in front of the Aiónius.

The geranium appears in the representation of the natural whole kicking the Sickle, much more here lost of our spiritual being
Zeus Jophiel's hardened shoulder heats up only to lean on Him...
light on his shoulders fires on both of them…
how long it takes to save us perhaps twenty times what supports us even tired and much more unwrapped than the treachery of him alone and without being followed without knowing
nothing more than a thousand-year-old shell through which he would drain…perhaps a tortoise-like millennial angel walked up to the omega! joy preparing to give you live hopeful,
that if it would be timely to give you more life...
Here is Aiónius reordering the world together with Zefian…
He shares everything eternal of all your life that floats in the sea,
miserable mix space where capo dastro separates the end
where all the wheres cannonade the hoarse fire...
cement that joins brick wall and plenary adobes
love without nature that castrates your beautiful woman
that hides her face without mascara looking for it...
let's go outside says Vernarth..., we still have a few seconds in his solvent... sensible, full, and arc well-being...
as if you were floating in the air floating more
also needed me to teach you before your limits limit you,
and make you angry from the miserable sense,... Don't listen to me anymore...!!”

Vernarth puts his first three fingers on the capo dastro roosters crow with his skin vibrating beyond the sleep of Raeder and Petrobus. Reader wakes up and says…; My Vernarth I will make fire and heat water. Petrobus runs with his wings to look for sacred wood. Eurydice comments…, I will prepare the praiseworthy sacred breakfast.

When they were preparing to do all this, Jophiel and Hanael appeared to him, joining in the breakfast that would feed all the days and millennia of the world. Unleavened fruit, honey, and milk multiply above all, satiating hunger with satiated satisfaction.

Prophecy V – Fourth, Limbus Necropolis

“From so far away…, so far away that I listen to your sacrosanct cries…!
from the Koumeterium of Messolonghi…, rocking my elbows and hurting myself
moving in rare pleasant crypt upon crypts disconsolate stones
not so far away..., keys held in the eighth cemetery...
Who is to open the heavy door now...?
I come from Messolonghi 555 km in linear figures to Patmos...,
narrowing concave… doubtful in extension, passion princess cloud
He must welcome me benevolently in the night nymph consort...
Limbus N cloud, Cloud Cemetery lofty lofty hypogeum
soul of Limbo, before seeing the nut that girds the face in the graceful Grim Reaper resurrecting restless…, sinning… grail sacrament without Being or being…?
Necropolis Cloud, expectant mortuary technology...
amaze me if there is a byte for me...
narrow conscience, unseemly to amaze me?

Here the lost mist of the Nothofagus God phoneme-photon vanishes with divine mass light to build the Áullos Kósmos. The Sacrament of Limbus will provide spaces and assemblages of meters for thousands of areas of infamous wandering the Ouranos, approaching the Áullos Kósmos to host him and rescue the children of the meter that was missing in the numeral rule of the Megaron acroteria before going up to the Necropolis Cloud. Vernarth, mere body formalizing principle...
extinct delicate evocation of the shadow of Elpenor;
Achaean warrior of Ulysses grandiloquent who even has otitis
and verse where flu spreads influenza
heartbreak from far away reverberating in the elite of lexicons…
arriving equidistant ... the last one arrives threatening with his Kantabroi staying neither divided nor captured, taking refuge in outright failure twilight of megahertz, farce propaganda surrendered fear will not fall even after …

Vernarth falls from the Koumeterium Mesolonghi in the Necropolis cloud privileging his status, he falls from this gloomy digital platform with a high alcoholic degree! from the high heaven after drinking hours he came in the carriage that was from Zilos, with the passion of heaven depriving his understanding stunned on some branches of will of Ziziphus…, stunned on branches of mercy….

Vernarth in a contrite accident with Elpenor, his psyche flies to the realm of the dead, Hades was remaining prisoner in that world taking the form of a Homeric icon or shadow. Vernarth was asleep after his binge, and Elpenor asks him if he wanted to join him with some concoctions. He was with blurred vision, a headache, and still lying down. But in the passionate horror of his drunkenness, he gets up quickly, saying to Elpenor: For me, it was one less pain to drink after having fallen from such a distance without being able to request and have had the grace of my mother's lullaby. For this reason, I hug you! They went together to the Cloud Necropolis to continue in the Limbus trying to alternate their physical body to gaseous liquid. At that moment Eurídice hits her with a piece of wood on her legs so that she wakes up from the bite of that nightmare that overwhelmed her to finally be able to wake up. Raeder had gone with Petrobus to Skalá to seek inputs of gnosis and his own inspiration for accents before the welcome in Katapausis to come in the blink of an eye of San Juan, necessary redaction for licenses and to be admitted to his library.

Prophecy VI - “Third, Rethymnon City and State”

“Vernarth heard the sound of a bouzouki, spoke of a 40-day fast that Greece celebrates before Easter, at the Rethymnon carnival they come from all over Greece to attend as a family during the week with animations, evenings and concerts, dances…theatre, floats with Venetian art in the picturesque old town and modern city, in this ancient city …

Rethymnon Political Ellipsis

“Like territorial extension, past-future organized infamous scene…Vernarth imagines being with Etréstles in immediate predictions
with years and thousands…, clan hobbies, Rethymnon manuscript…
while he thus deliberated…, thus rejoicing in the immaculate extramural grotto thus being as if it were comparable to a Neolithic village; being together lost with eagerness to appear from political power... palaces, kings, pro-organized religions..., rancorous superlative temple, priestly-eucharistic, nationalized sovereign citizen... commanding Parliament of the Hellenic politai people
the competent anti-value entity of the substratum political state…
sedentary-agricultural or nomadic-livestock culture…, vertical Hoplite culture!”

In Thessaloniki street, he would meet his brother head-on...Imagining how he would be...? Well-dressed-shiny, he would be in a passing tavern usually naming himself tradition and terms of questionable validity rather than those of a retro-linguistic family, in the remarkable urban-city dialogue called seditious inns with networks of political territorial extension, reaching the colossal size of multinational ideals of a complex stratification, social meeting place, future ministries to whom to delegate?. They would arrive at the tavern in Rethymnon in Crete, they order coffee, biscuits, and Mosaikó chocolates. In an unexpected moment, he suddenly wakes up from this deep, hallucinating, and futuristic imagination! His brother appears immediately, not in Rethymnon but in Katapausis with the goddess Lepidoptera!

End Ellipsis Rethymnon

“At the moment his imagination breaks just when they were preparing to toast… Etréstles in this same interval appear in Katapausis Reader and Petrobus coming in a singular pilgrimage from Skalá…this is how the syllabic song of the arcane ***** is heard emitting from the grotto…, yellow lights and saffron…. Saint John and the Gospel celebrating the Eucharist…Vernarth would believe for the first time that the hermit would come, but No…!
his brother was to be in the intervening yellow-white light
in front of him nothing more than Etréstles visiting him”

Likewise, they would no longer be in Rethymnon,
but the carnival would already begin in the region of Patmos...
eating delicacies, and the Sousta towards the circle of the Sun in the hands…They have been two months with the sweetened Moon and the Sun posing its mass of light in her… soft palm next to her waiting for him in the proximity of a Hebrew silence

Estretles says Khaire Vernarth! from Piacenza who did not see your joyous lux! I can see now to the sound of yourself the stoic zither...
countenance light, the orbit of your eyes, pale asthenia without photon without light, expectorant suppuration of your sacred Lynothorax, Absent in front of the long and fatal transverse lapse!
Raeder makes a speech to Zeus Photon Child Lux
Fulminant spends time where it remains greater than the minimum...
Patmos is the time of the Messiah…, retrograde years…
polis Helennic city-states.

Culture-state… state time chorus in tune
Philosophical poetic-epic Olympian Aiónius global leader
Homeric poems..., Raeder I am..., a naughty Politai...
you Vernarth are Politai Hetairoi militia
candy wasted by me Raeder… sweetened in my memory
polytheistic, cultured and declined…
theocratic referendum or democratic right,
Exciting porridge of my Kourabiedes cookies
butter, icing sugar, flour, eggs from the icy cliff
vanilla or Mastica resin, ***, Ouzo, mastica liquor…
or other alcoholic beverages…, which bubble on the underside of Aiónius soaked in my mouth with water from petal buds
coated for you with sugar on the tip of my tongue…
reflective cops in a wonderful dialogue of a tasty recipe...
It's time for everyone else to snack too!!

In that second Raerder was choking on a Kourabiede biscuit,
but there was the guardian of the Petrobus who piloted the
throwing hieratic water on the inside of his mouth,
forcing him to take heart from the buttress of his speech
shooing thick crumbs from his skinny dialogue spitted...
Gerakis, ray, tabletop oak bull, scepter for those who rule with him and not...My Zeus friend I invite you to play marbles,
I invite you to tell us that we are friends...
we're both fine… only Space-separated us…?

Raeder runs towards Zeus' thunderbolt from his right hand.
he jumps up and takes it from her, in exchange for this she gives him his marbles...The entire earth tilts over the Aegean..., the earth's axis tilts eight degrees, altering the cerebrospinal fluid of the Hellenic geopolitical conception..., with Zeus poly infarcted over descending magnitudes of inter-politics, millennia and headless governments...

“Apokalypsis lightning restarted, emerged from a New World”
Prophecy VII -. “Second, Alikanto Aion, Quantum”
"Kalymnos, golden tetra steed Alikanto was grazing under the metallic moon...
transiting its quantum physics…, golden legs…, four golden domes
the super host being in Apoika Andros next to the villagers,
commemorating troupe and advent…, Heraklion next period
celebrant anniversary, progeny bearer of Kanti Cretense,
close cycles of the sacred fire, domestic environment, and private zeal...
funerary hidden cult… streets in the hieratic family dwelling
fertile women… totalized and lustful ****…
productive longevity and harvests…, family Apoika
next successor belligerence…, funerary plexus…
culty predecessor…, treatise and imprecation of law, theme and legible religion domestic scene, family civic servant ceremony

Goddess Hestia austere, head with eight sacred candles dressed
Olympus lacking without gods…, only Goddesses embargo!
Feminine Hestia Domestic Goddess, an emanation of the female oval to ovulating…Pritaneo, the central decree of the political harvests… foreign exchange grains to be minted monetary stock exchange of Athens… Pritaneo ford on the rise, ford on increase Aion... hesitant dart swoop into eternity,
Alikanto Perpetual Aion…Speaks with both hands
synchronized and tilted tongue…
stutters and swallows, in six paranasal sinuses
saturated with fiery saliva..., and an Internal voice saying say...
what makes sense to feel and what does not turn off...
sleeping waves in the poison of love igniting
intra-Vernarth love…, billing infected holy blood
methodical coupled time…, Gaugamela the bronze extremity,
of a lost leader…, won leader!

If I had to run to rewrite retro Adhoc poems and chosen trova,
With a shy Trojan verse, I would dare today if I kissed her in front of me… she!
she would jump from the hyperesthetic-Ouranos…, inhuman to the Aion world
aurora celestina, bleeds big and defiant today in your star
In herself Ella…, pestiferous condemnation sweetness and aura between her…she just be, she herself be supported be…, Oh… Goddess Hestia on your opposite leg unbraced arm, meadow and vein braid… assaulted by lost and thirsty love written everything if she tempts…, everything wields darkly if it took you to our Olympus… at night loving you whole..., emptying everything with no inappropriate hand singing don vine fissure and intimate company, may it be exterminated... passion outside with nailed stake..., iron embedding..., nails wounding...exhausted supra lips supra yours…, mid sand writing full to her…
tip of my Xiphos… blood made written with written maiden mythology,
letter sword Spatha…, cyclamen balm made whole if I had you!

“To the loves of the world I say…, cover your ears fungus of boredom, your torn ears squander ignoring more than sordid saying...my blood kills, my blood revives! I **** my blood and I **** everyone, with your blood scattered, ***** blood scattered…!
do not leave me alone until nightfall… I only ask for holy water,
emptied from your mouth goddess Hestia who flies tons over me...
I only ask for a spatha romantic blood sharp, ******, and scattered...
to write to the love wars that I have lost...
to the wars of love that I have won, slicing the jugular of the
treacherous and wicked emperor"

“… Alikantus, he remembered the Hoplite commander in Gaugamela, he remembered when he dodged arrows with his head so that they would not hit his body or his pectoral. From such a present moment falling by surrendering to the evocation of him. He goes down to a stream and confines himself to the vanity quagmire, continues on his path reaching a suspicious lagoon, drinks sacred water, drinking again manages to perceive the effigy of Vernarth in the mirror of Aion's Hydor... calling him from Patmos! Law reminded his master how he died for everyone in the world just as the world would not let him bring more than agonizing for him because there was no more space said Aionius ... "

Alikantus then clenched his jaws too hard, falling out all his molars, he asked the Gods in front of Hestia to restore them fifteen days before arriving at the Ekadashi in Patmos where his master, thus loving all the lives of the world, as well as the hidden cries behind the Dypilons hiding the power of God… or laugh at gagged iris flashes and mummified sighs with lives that subsist!

Vernarth from Patmos called to him so that his eyes looked invigorated like the swarms of green and gray vanadium fire, of mood in the predictive table and close prediction. AlIkantus bids farewell to Kalymnos spraying sorrel and hyper-odoriferous flowers of the Apoika in Kalymnos loving from above, very close, flying, loving everything so much that he forgot to fly. He sometimes fell hard but recovered retried as a baby steed in the womb of a mother new species to be born again in Apoika!


Prophecy VIII -  "First of Aionius, "Eleusis Prophecy of Hamor"
“Aiónius received news of Hamor's prophecy; cosmic orgiastic order
tyrannical snake victim throwing herself into her abyss and purpose..., banishment as an objective void to be decreed, even so ending the world from another world,
discontinuous terse march, slurred arpeggio, speech by Aiónius
there is no world left but if extermination…, undone threshold…, provoke in delicate chaos…!

As a child, I ran to the supreme world herding lions... I called them and they ran to me..., they came alone, some didn't...! Being young, one day Aionius went to the farm and counted the lions... Some came others No... Aionius..., in such a hamorio he was locking an earring from his ears, he hung them again, which happened the next day relaxed..., he saw a maiden who laughed hypnotized…, he sighed when she turned around saying with her poor gestures… Destroy it! The afflicted turned away not knowing what was coming… destroying the desolate world vilifying silky physiognomies, chipped and dandruff face slipping from yours being captive and arid…, tempts to flow libertarian imprint in foreign praxis, origin, and end,
me from the slime being born in my eighth life in nothingness ataxia…

The beloved Victim surrounded by snakes moved the stump of her arms
eaten away by the serpent that took refuge in thorns of forged steel...
she kept walking…, Aiónius pointed at her and kissed her gestures escaping frightened towards the valley in farewells... not fitting itself in valleys that were never anything she paraded with the current of her last word, the beloved again moved her arms following her in front of her the beast was on her, Aiónius buried from fleeing and coming… with fiery phenotype, abrupt vocabulary, says: “Strapping and interludes, after beings of impiety, the world of impiety, Hamor of the first wit… towards other refuges I will depart about a Yes devouring bare ring on it…”
escape curve that cuts the pelvis of my beloved
destructive be your curved world that before had to destroy me...
ultra pre-hellenic nymph Harpé passion spread on me…
Hailed libertarian praise, aristocratic vermilion accent, minority ruling? Overwhelming rigor expended, prophetic Hamor, prophetic expansive arsenal! It must come from all the supreme worlds with strokes and silhouettes conquering...true dream, confused hypothetical oscillate sweeping imploring and contracting popular decision, management and space of my Sickle…, sometimes uncontained… worse avenues in its radius and dark mourning badly wounded shadow! The vertex that finally launches opens the dawn and his Hamada flees... Leaving with the untidy serpent, about touching and causing rangers in the stuck earth.

Demeter and Persephone; based on Eleusis in ancient Greece
mystery myth of the abduction of Persephone daughter of Demeter…
by the king of the underworld of Hades, Abrahamanica's offspring
cabal, life in the descent, the search and the ascent…
Ascent of Indra lightning Vahana and lightning from her right eye,
Persephone to the reunion with her beloved daughter ascending.

Zodiac and mysteries involved, visions and sleight of hand
that of an afterlife, rain of seven trunks, long-lived Airavata
elephant, Eleusis jump psychedelic mystery, incision, and coherent rites, ceremonies and experiences of cold winters and life on earth
plants in gestation under the gift of Elitíaen and beings that
they are about to germinate and be born, beings in a chain of genes...
vegetable running on the earth, vegetable in March in its glory
September in the jaws of the purified phrase and inaccurate acropolis I…

Sacred obscenities, deadly tributes with the death penalty...,
wandering nights without clothes with obese and badly fragrant meats point and taco dances praising the harvest in honor of a dead Thracian bull, libating priestly vessels and bullfighting heads in a deliberately defined and improper triweekly ritual, revealed in Demeter and Persephone.

Only Hamor in his venerable pyx lies locked up knowing he is unable to open inside this lustful bewitching sparkles, the mystery of emancipated disenchantment that awakens from his slow consciousness without knowing how to go on passing in the sum of all happenings of Aiónius. ”

This is how he defined himself from the syncretism of Indra and the mystery of Eleusis, from Demeter and his daughter Persephone from the vile kidnapped underworld. Of the divine Goddess Elitia and the annual records of children born within a year in the germinating seed of the mystery of love that would begin with this prophecy with the initial "H" of the underworld exclaimed Hades and Greek heritage in this event. Vernarth and his companions listened to this prophecy, almost falling asleep, it seemed to them sweet pallor-bitter, love-heartbreak in the previous day before diagnosing having a presence in the hermitage of San Juan Apóstol for the superior company of a later day that was approaching as the greatest daring of all up in the mountains while disposing of Vernarth's Apologist obverse of Aiónius's.

Epilogue Prophecies - “Eleusis, Isadora Duncan to the Parthenon”

“Vernarth and Eurydice indulged in the jargon of agitated diasporas
of inhabitants fleeing the Rite of Eleusis, crossed hands and feet
They dueled on olive trunks with Theban thunder, vague Insurrection of the ancient world, and consonants of barbarian Pleiades,
acclaiming predilection of the Eremita San Juan to appear...
in a breath of peace resurfacing... but seeing that Vernarth was accompanied of Eurydice hid in front of them leaving only her aura near from the stream of a chrysalis!
In the dizzying succession of myths, good news reaches her sacred ears, waking up her trend and her high quarterly price outside the walls... being later received in the grotto of the hermitage in growing expectation and a link of longing that weaves to remind him of being a crusade piece.

The kidnapping of his reverie feared and timid frivolous crushing blizzard, he was walking surrounded by Falangists on horseback pointing at him and threatening him, scrutinizing in the distance loneliness of his past lives,
his regressive life, concerning key to origins of his illustrative Existence, stranded at this moment..., Vernarth makes a pact with himself to detach himself..., of his spirit, detach from their lives under a hypnotic and compelling law..., like a suspended index in the Sistine Chapel, homologous ship Ave Maria Messiah!

From Eleusis Vernarth vanished in aerial horse-dreaming,
he crossed through the pavilions with himself persevering some wake
riding his Alikantus ******* and standing with him to pillage the Empyrium niche Persephone's trace of herself and her ******* ******* them...
with devoted passion, milky way, and milky syrup chin howling...
Vanishing dancer, Athenian acropolis, Dionysian sanctuary of the acropolis… Stepdaughter-patron in the dance of Zeus and Themis lopsided frame of the season's wildness of all creation and defiance of Eleusis looking for her daughter and her children, priestesses safely taking off their corset and their pictures…
raging chastity, oligo blood, Itheoi music, outraged dance complaining, Possessed expressing being seductive but also a native *******... the underworld in darkness, free daughter, and iconoclastic Greek mythologist
inconvenient Victorian mania, a courtesan from Olympus, courtesan undressed! Isadora, Demeter, and Persephone… flooded with Aphrodite foam!

She “prayed songs with plexus and feet, plotting gardens around the world… full of baseboard feet where everything created in brief Apokálypsis was dying! By desolate Parthenons dancing in Muscovite ruins, maenades sweaty enclave and also throwing back his head as if possessed by ecstasy in her Bugatti and Leonidas…, enchanted by Aiónius! intoxicated and exorbitant with beautiful rosy placebo eyes... Hair with headbands vine petioles, her Nebris tight skin was wearing... in her hand's bunches of barberries to Dionysus with torches and live snakes a chaste crook naming Thirsus; rod topped with Kashmar branches wrapped in borders, vines and ivy, allusive link…, morbid ecosystem! covering her crotch in the Temple of her Kopanos dancing from the eternal fire cremated and in a romantic dimension remembering Byron's meritorious…
Hellenic passionate, and of Hölderlin poeticizing together with Aiónius.

Rudiment wound … ruinous on value exciting in those
of the imagined and creative in her perdition, Sicalipsis e impudicias
torn fire in the Metelmi and her ***** we are twisted,
epic worthy of greek tragedy dancing like waves of fire
in the forge in terrifying death of her children Deirdre and Patrick,
submerged and injured in the Seine in Paris in 1913, falling into the
water in the car that was traveling with her wet nurse… before…!
saying goodbye to them in urgent social commitments,
I Aiónius take you to the Empyrium.

What a dire tribulation in the prevailing misfortunes by not postponing it, retain the fate of whose children is quite a story with the kidnapping of theirs and merits of fulfilling commitments committed to solicitous artists... support, crestfallen inside a dresser or Bolshoi dancing statue, dancing empty with bare feet, frigid anemone, frigid Sea…

Arriving at the dawn of her last prophecy, Isadora Duncan accompanies her in full life beyond all limiting borders with the borders of her dance, the flat field of Eleusis receives her presumptuously associating in around for the dressings...
And left-handed dalliance self-indulging…, advanced barefoot to the Parthenon…!naked towards the world and the orb dug out of her before her undressed.

Reader and Petrobus jumped on this steep stone, emulating the meteorites that shone in the sky of Patmos such a party of nocturnal lights, such emery detached from a fleeting planet in the largest Hellenic scene saying: "Well-being to the Hellenic World all calm, dance and immunity to the firmament where Isidora rests in the Kantabroi of Aionius”
Prophecies of Aiónius
Lightbulb Martin Mar 2014
Tsk tsk tossed.
go out
Your suggestions.

Whisk whisk washed.
Flow south
Your directions.

Hiss hiss sorry.
No time for
sage reflections.

Songs you sang will not be sung
Nor any tales of length believed
The brain embodied in such young
Will think it he who first perceived

Who first made sparks?
From rocks to barks?
Blinding night and fooling fear?

Our first teacher
Godfather to fire
In this new day
remains unclear.


Realizations often
Skip awry
Salute nor ovation
For you my friend
Draw nigh.

When truth escapes your lips
It is not their time to hear.
For some ears are full of magic
And your end is
Rolling near.
Give a Centimeter, taken is a Light-Year.
Ask for an Inch, you're lucky to get a Centimeter.
Buy an Ounce, get a Gram.
Sell a Gram, taken is an Ounce.

Corporations are the ****** dealers of modern society:
Subsidized and Multi-Faced
Financial fronts for the Military-Industrial-Propaganda Complex.

They seek our cognitive tranquilization.
They seek our placification.
They seek our pacification.
They seek our inurement.
They seek our inurnment.

They're in it for their own profit and that of their friends,
as well as the perpetuation of sociopolitical-economic stratification;
not the happiness of the customers, or anything so ******* quaint.
-
"Satisfaction Guaranteed" doesn't mean ****
in this materialistic world.
A corporation saying 'Satisfaction Guaranteed' is like Monsanto saying it's milk is Organic;
A paper thin lie designed to get your money out of your hands and into their coffers forever.

Of course, their "Satisfaction" is "Guaranteed";
they have our money now,
and all we have useless, expensive toxic waste. (Literally and figuratively.)
The Swinepeople love that **** of theirs to roll around in.

The overwhelming nature of our Crapitiolism is underwhelmingly superficial.
-
"Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist; try and read between the lines.
I can't imagine why you wouldn't welcome any change, my friend."
-Tool, Aenema
By 'materialistic', I mean in a philosophical sense; the school of thought which only thinks of "matter" as real.


"House of glass and cards so don't be tossin' your stones all around. You musta been soo high."
-Tool, The ***
So it would seem,
the only difference
twixt Animal Behavior
and Human Behavior
is a capacity
for written
and spoken
Language.
-
---Epilogue--

According to various 'dictionaries,'
the word "anthrocentric" doesn't exist.
I, however, define it as the same principals of
sexism, ethnocentrism, or nationalism,
but applied to the perception
of a validated stratification of Human Beings
over the entirety of the Web of Life,
rather than to simply
the ***, ethnicity or nationality
of another.

I feel
the natural world around us
is far more sacred than we are-
although we are spawned of it.

I feel
it is so much more sacred
due to an absent respect for it
and the other beings
which it hosts so well;
so selflessly.

We **** Sapiens Sapiens
have defiled our own sanctity
via lack of respect
for ourselves,
let alone others Beings;
Human, and otherwise.

Apparently, that isn't very popular.

So many Egos
would rather depend on
intentionally small sample sizes,
while many Ids
would rather self-preclude
the challenge of self-observation
fore a mere and fleeting
(most likely destructive)
comfort.

I venture to say that is a present form of cowardice.
--Afterword--
So,
like it or not,
t'is an expression of my Self.
I fell I owe it to myself
to express it exactly as such.
I don't think as I do
for popularity;
it's just who I am
and what I think.

Look things up.
Explore ideas.
voyager Aug 2017
I find solitude by the shores
The cool summer has just arrived
By the watch of seagulls swaying side to side
Diving like the scuba
Is the rhythm by the show and the rising tides

Deeply in thoughts in my dreamland
Nolstagic memories with captain hook
In a world of captivating ideologies,neverland
Life in a matter of numbers and dominance, says hook

Size isn't the limitation but the solomonic wisdom
Based on the agenda stratification
Peter pan thrills my dreamland  
Giving hope and purpose to the affiliates

Leaving my dreamland with an option
The world is bustling with sin,
the evil's ******* us in,
money lovers love ******* you and me.
They wave their hands in the air,
as the onlookers stare,
at the definition of impurity.

Their soulless lovers demand,
the latest fashions and trends,
snap their fingers, instant gratification.
We eat straight out of their hands,
like a dog, on command,
while they laugh, it's stratification.

Smoke billows in the sky,
from the smoke stacks, so high,
they pollute the world and show no sympathy.
They rest on golden lawn chairs,
as girl run hands through their hair,
people are objects of the industry.

The politics are corrupt,
we say that we've had enough,
but the truth is we have no voice to scream.
Their money runs our lives,
they hear the peoples cries,
but they continue destroying the American dream.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Loves sees the bands, colors of a rainbow,
And in their perfect stratification,
Begs to see more, what else there is to know
Between colors’ identification?

Loves sees the spectrum, red to purple hues,
Where seven colors, beautiful enough
Disguise preciousness hid within their views,
Vibrant colors the peak, love sees the trough.

Love sees beyond the discrete colored bands,
To join red and orange, yellow and green,
Blue intertwined to violet like held hands,
Love asks what magic is there in between?

Love sees rainbows, but is not satisfied,
That line between colors intervening,
Spanning the sky, but look deeper inside,
Love asks to see beauty’s inner meaning.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Everybody open ya eyes 
Cause the world is full of lies 
No saprize media got ya 
Following peeps you don't even know 
Say bro they slamming ya like bones 
They stay coming prone with the drones 
They watching you watching me watching he 
I know its confusing but its a spiritual fusion 
Dr Jekyll vs Mr Hide homicides cover daily 
And the enemy stays concealed 
While the minorities get hit the bill Capitol Hill
Ain't never been real.
Its no more sunny days or rainy days 
Just nothing darkness across the skies 
Once again open ya eyes and realize 
They don't care about you 
Or success ya go through 
They just want you 
To be a robotized chipped and off in order 
Pay attention to the pecking order 
It goes one for the show two for the money 
Three for the dummy four ya wrapped up like a mummy mentally tryna see 
What the **** can ya do to feed ya family 
But the **** just gets worse from.religion to stool pigeons 
What the hell ya thinkin? 
Jesus even said expose the wicked 
But pastors use the bible as a meal.ticket 
I'm sick of it the ******* they spreading 
Its Armageddon 
Am strapped you strapped? 
Voluminous ammunition my ambitions 
Is to tare the machine 
To shreds its social stratification 
Indoctrination from.education 
Got us in a confined hesitation 
In a tight situation you waiting 
And they making laws with mild debating 
And I'll be sitting wait for themto 
Come knock at the door
Blast them with my c4 *******
Revolution is the only solutions 
We got to spread the knowledge
From.the mothers fathers sons to daughters 
I'm the maven 
Telling you be vigilant to the 
Pecking order



Signs was giving since the beginning 
Of mans existence 
Too.much money in the world 
To be having pestilences 
While ya straddling the fence 
I'm get tense 
Clutched ******* I'm far from.weak 
While they playimg hide and seek 
I'm the meek 
Tryna to inherit but they taking 
Civil rights away 
So how can I pray for better days? 
Its seems the holier I get 
The more sin seems to fit 
Into these business world 
Immutable bylaws 
No love for the poor its wicked
Sadistic 
Say they got the solution 
But steadily shooting 
Down freedom fighters and truth writers 
Even got wires 
On wire everything ya say is recorded 
Aliens exported then imported 
Invoked all the constitutional rights 
They say white is right 
And black is still wack? From 
The media spinning that ******* 
Too keep ya high on 
Suckas more confused 
Than a ball.passing through 
Ping pong hit the cheech n chong 
To pass by memories 
Enemies don't get a chance to see me 
Frown bow down 
This is the new order from coast to coast 
Border to border 
Pay attention to the peck'in order 
Word!!!
Christopher Lowe Dec 2016
I have come to realize
This perpetuated feeling
Is neither unhappiness nor lack of joy
But a feeling of my own creation
That of boredom
Seeking out the next thing to fascinate
Only to yet again become bored
You see
I don’t really think sadness is a lack of happiness
It is a lack of fulfillment
It is the fact
That time and time again
Generation after generation
We teach happiness through gratification
Society has taught us to stop thinking
To stop feeling happiness without the minutia
The results are a stratification of people
And a difference now in
Humans
And Human Beings
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Mar 2021
Before social stratification (differences in wealth and power versus lack thereof) hunter/gatherers rarely fought. They were all equal and sensed it.

But when groups became big enough, they formed cities like Sumer in Mesopotamia, and concomitantly some people got wealthy and powerful while most did not.

Society, therefore, became, in time, stratified and in more time created superficial distinctions among the people of that city.

Obviously, my commentary is grossly oversimplified, but the point I'm going to make here is spot-on;  namely, what has never changed among human beings is the locus of everyone's innate, inviolable worth, which is within each one of us, not without.

But the people of Sumer and other cities that followed were duped by the illusions of wealth and power as being worth, and that led to stratification of different groups based on false premises. And that led to making some groups slaves while the wealthy and powerful remained, they thought, superior.  

This was the wrong turn in the fork in the road humanity took.

Humanity thus forgot we all have the same worth, and this inimical illusion only ballooned over millennia.

The right fork we need to find is the one the hunter/gatherers had taken and the whole world needs quickly to take that fork again before we all destroy Earth.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
What I wish to be exists not.
To have
Years of sorrow and grief forgot,
But oh, oh no;
That suffering will long remain.
It will riddle my mind;
Labyrinthine confines --
All alone, always,
Unfathomably far from every shore,
From what I once adored.
This is emptiness:
This is the void of being.

I will wake up with that knot
Still In my stomach,
Lying awake for hours,
Hardly moving,
Immobile,
Still, so still,
Clenching for comfort and warmth and care,
But it simply won't be there,
And it very well may never return.
That flame of the few
That I once knew,
So pure and so true,
Has withered into an ember,
And it's so far away, this I know.

I would rather go ahead and die,
Some times,
I think,
Than live a life of mediocrity;
Of predictability.
Yet I'm also dying to find any source of light
In this abyss,
Or an escape.
But I can't find one.
I'm having so much trouble simply existing.
I was not cut out for this world,
I can tell you that for certain.
Oh, with such certainty.
I cannot handle the pain of everything around me,
Of proxy wars and vast slums.
Of paved forests and rigged economies.
It is far too much for me to ignore...
Far, far, far too much,
This is for certain.
With such certainty.
So is opting out the way to go?
It's getting to where I'd do anything
To not exist as I presently am,
And to not exist where I presently am:
In this desperate mind inside a dying world.

I just want to be okay with living.
But I absolutely mean this when I say it:
All of the pain in the world,
All of the inequality,
Stratification,
Corruption,
Tragedy,
Genocide,
I feel it. I feel all of it...
It pulls and drags me
Into some unknown depth,
Some infinite chasm,
Where no light has ever been,
Where no light will ever be,
And where I am not sure
If I will ever leave.
Colin E Havard Mar 2014
New World Stratification, Fractalised Parallelized Reality;
A Re-Ordering; Stacked ***** and *******
And myriad ****** Bags to Fuel Our Fires.
Whilst <Wishlist?> I didn't open the Doors Originally,
I cracked the Dawn and others pushed through
Avalanche- and Stampede-style.
But the Foolish Simpletons didn't realise
The inherent Dangers of their Giddy-fun;
Not All Other Worlders or Other UniVerses/DieMentions
Are Populated with nice, courteous, civil Peoples.
What did I {WE} invite to roost at home?
And have we (as a bunch of egotistical Hoes)
Captured Them on Film (Cells); in Flesh; in Fetish; in Flame {US}?
I'm super curious about the Parasitic Classes:
As are the Predators & Warriors , & the Other Net-Cast Members.
I'm not the Christ you Imagine - Not Me! I'm Innocent!
I was the Messiah --> The Sacrifice for God's Reality.
But God isn't what He seems, far from it. He feeds on your Souls.
I AM a self-made Man/UniVersal/Multi-Dimensional Being,
And while God thought He could trap me, He was wrong!
I don't stop - I can't stop - I won't stop - until I'm satisfied She's satisfied
That I've explained, or at least considered, All
Possibilities from a Human's consideration.
[Please note that Human's are few and far between, and rarely what they seem.]
24/2/2014
The Devil's Advocate, Day 9, Concord Mental Health Centre
Akemi Oct 2017
hollow cardboard reach
and the destitution of the earth
and lives that don’t matter
the open wound of living under capitalism
a horizon of black spots
mangled neurons
worthless towers lined to the sky
production unto pollution
putrefaction
and the whole end
the whole ******* end
the whole
queers ***** in prison
blacks killed in custody
xenophobic masturbatory farmers decimating the land
modern death is class war
race war
gender war
a systemic genocide through slow violence
laws drafted stressing interpersonal violence over corporate negligence
social stratification
unequal access to housing, food and education
MAY 68
**** your gender binary, your race hierarchy, your CV, your Christmas, think positive *******
**** your borders, your ****-apologising, your colourblindness, your class privilege, your white fragility, your selective free speech, your hegemonic masculinity, your silicon valley entrepreneurialism, your cultural imperialism, your meat industry, your deforestation, your ******* accommodation, your debt economy, your war economy, your prison economy, your unpaid women’s domestic economy that upholds the entire heteropatriarchal world
**** YOUR CAPITALISM
precarity unto subjugation, alienation, destitution
an increasing youth suicide rate
an inflation rate rising faster than minimum wage
a lack of jobs while you tell us we’re worthless beneficiaries
a system that chases profit at the cost of existence
the entire concept of meritocracy
debt as a promise of payment yet to exist
enforced return to nothing
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of instrumental rationalism
the closed jaw of

godspeedyoublackemperor.bandcamp.com/album/luciferian-towers
You could carry all your pain inside the nerves
in your tongue like such lines are suitcases
with just the right proportions.

Vertical lines always did create the illusion of symmetry.

If your pain found its home in the part of your body
that longs to be used in the verbal explanation of what it holds,
maybe your tongue would learn to create more than it deconstructs.

You wore streaks of grey sky like a costume
that did very little to conceal what lay beneath.
Maybe you thought if you wore it long enough it would
act as an extra layer of skin,
another stratification to separate you from your deepest self.

When they taught us how to laugh we never questioned
if we would grow up to be happy.
It was always something we were sure of when our minds were clouded
in a shroud of naive hope.

Now years have passed and we have learned
how to whistle wishes into the harmonicas of our necks
and wish for a better melody.


- m. b. 2014
Julian Delia Apr 2018
Analyse –
The difficulty which one finds in this rat race,
Attempting to materialise
Food in one’s belly
Electricity in one’s home,
Hell,
To even HAVE a home.

The state of the world
Isn’t what has made my pen meet this paper today;
It’s us I’m concerned about.
Hard-wired to be social creatures,
We ignore these features
Our lives focused on money,
Not enjoying each other’s company
Not even when the sky is blue and sunny.

And,
Worst of all,
There is the great truth –
‘Behind every great fortune there lies a great crime.’
This is not to say
That every rich man or woman
Should never see the light of day,
But, it is undeniable
That overreaching influence and concentrated wealth
Are unjustifiable
When we live in a world that fits all of us.
The worst part about being poor
Is the isolation, it’s your heart
Travelling alone, one with the moor.
So many missed good times
So many lost communication lines –
All caused
By this stratification
This intolerable alienation
This algorithmic separation
Of human beings.

Do you know
What it feels like
To ration things you need
To feel grateful for every sip of water,
Every **** of ****?
Dying on the inside
Every time someone asks
‘What are you doing tonight?’
Tonight
I will be trying to traverse this never-ending tunnel
Attempting to reach the light
At the end of it.
Tonight
I will be trying
To keep myself together
Without letting all this weight crush my soul.

If we are to base our society
Our everyday life
On the concept of wealth
Then we must preserve our health
We must ensure
That not only one or two families in every hundred
Are able to survive and endure,
But all of us.

This lack of balance
This Roman phalanx
Of men and women in mass unison
Working and toiling
Hours upon hours of labour
All attempting to obtain favour
With their masters –
For what reason?
I would rather get hung for treason
Than work for someone else.
I am tired of being sore
At the end of the week
Unable to obtain the stability I seek
Simply because the pyramid scheme
Demands it to be so.

I am a kindred spirit
With all the revolutionaries of the world
The divergent, the insurgent
The activist protecting his country from business interests.
On some days, I lose hope
On some days, I can barely cope
Because there’s so much to deal with –
So on those days
When loneliness and poverty mix together like a lethal cocktail
The tree of knowledge I shall hail,
Its flowers I shall consume,
Its co-evolution with man I shall exhume.
Happy 4/20.
Whomever you meet,
you will no doubt be in conflict,
that is the nature of the beast,
you and I,
cut by chromatic dividing lines,
split by life decisions,
perspective of the past, present and future,
separation of church and state of mind,
women as companions,
women as *******,
charity as obligation,
charity as privilege,
meaning it means it something,
or not at all,
who's to say?
A dichotomy of idealistic sentimentality,
different cogs in the same broken machine,
we are all twisted gears in a mal-adapted tree,
that bears no fruit,
and whether the strong rule,
or if the weak share the shattered remains,
means little to me,
we are all equally hopeless,
fractal personalities,
torn by social stratification,
at the core we are broken,
and I love it.
A.P. Beckstead (2014)
nihiliti Jun 2018
upheld

facing heaven
facing the music

angel choirs are nothing like the devil
down in Georgia
far above the level of
love
into a stratospheric stratification of
hope
and seven levels of adrenaline beyond
dope

dopamine dreams drip
slow
soothing control
like a lighted window in the
snow
glimmering like gold
but so far gone
the meaning is
lost

and I wander
through my own house
wondering why this isn't home
wishing to the stars to go
away into the unknown

but I'm snatched back

and I switch back to passing
myself in the mirror
and screaming ****** Mary
because I'm home
but gentle hands
know

how to love while being played like a fiddle
how to sweetly play it off as
close enough to god to
know

yet I am home
and the stars align so I do find
refuge in the music
and make a home in
dreams made doped
coaxed by my own
two hands

too late to come down
Shoot up for the stars, land in oblivion.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2022
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com


                William Wordsworth Receives an Email of Rejection

Dear Pronoun-of-Preference Wordsworth:

We have interrogated your poem about daffodils
And can only regret your lack of filtering
For post-colonial non-binary tropes
And gender-vulnerable intersectionality

The daffodils appear not to have been consulted
With regard for their self-affirmation
Which suggests patriarchal guilt through your
Hetero-normative stratification

We find your daffodils ruthlessly aggressive
And your masculinist constructs, yes, regressive

We wish you success elsewhere. Anywhere
Go away
Lawrence Hall Mar 2022
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com


                William Wordsworth Receives an Email of Rejection

Dear Pronoun-of-Preference Wordsworth:

We have interrogated your poem about daffodils
And can only regret your lack of filtering
For post-colonial non-binary tropes
And gender-vulnerable intersectionality

The daffodils appear not to have been consulted
With regard for their self-affirmation
Which suggests patriarchal guilt through your
Hetero-normative stratification

We find your daffodils ruthlessly aggressive
And your masculinist constructs, yes, regressive

We wish you success elsewhere. Anywhere
Go away
Graff1980 Mar 2018
We are citizens,
victims of a system
of stratification.

We use fiction
to relate
us to them,
women and men,
social programming
for the progress
to do more then
just began again.

While the filthy fat cats
are raking it in
doing more then
making a killing
by selling weapons
made to ****
foreign children,

making profits
off the violence
while calling us
immoral
criminals.

So, we use fantasy
to cross the breach,
break the cranium
so you can see
reality
through
that fictional brew,

and gain compassion
from the stories you read
or the movies you see.

This is the time
to select a brave few
who may follow you
through
xpzlol Mar 2019
Repetitive volutions
of countless revolutions
supplying finite rations
killing future generations.

The stimulation of deep ire
by faux mutation of fire
burning rocks of ice
like useless sacrifice.

Yet the berserk scramble to the solution
of inevitable social dissolution
only sees to the ratification
of society’s julienned stratification

Scrabbling frantically in an upwards city
encompassing dictated veracity
within confines of a progressive nation
unaware of its gradual resignation.
Sukanya Basu Aug 2019
I have unwilled myself to see what I should have
And yet chose to see what I shouldn't,
It is my choice really and it burns down to common ashes
of disillusionments and a make shift place of perpetual tiresome
Endeavours

Mounting to nothing.

I have gazed at stars and other common misinterpretations of love and set myself to dry out what's left of my individuality;
Upon star-gazing and eventual ruination,
My packed backs from eight to three have failed me to decipher
What life can provide me with;

I have misused time and shrunken my perspectives to fit in a square thatch that provides no shelter;

Star gazing has left me, point blank.
Graff1980 Jul 2021
They are the dark
overbearing powerbrokers,
not into power sharing
only lying and declaring
all that expands
what we are able to understand
an enemy of the state.

They lost the capability
of any sort of mimicry
cause they are deficient
in any sort of empathy.

The capacity
to imagine with even
the slightest bit of
accuracy
has vanished from these
social engineering
sociopaths.

So, from the depth
of their stupidness
and reckless pursuing
of personal gratification
they have set up
a system of stratification,
that regularly pits everyone
against those with the least
power and prestige
in our deluded society.

— The End —