ZacheirII
08-25-2014, 04:13 AM
From whence I laid, my ears could strain to heed the numb symphony that triumphed the wave of exuberance.
Six O’Clock! As the day parted ways to excite the interference of the anticipated light, skies unfold their ingenious feats that promotes the unraveling of their intensive recapped beauty. One that follows suit when the late Summer dawn breaks. Type with properly devoted motives towards the ends that give opening to doors that in return deliver the welcoming of a new religion.
"...Something pleasant, evolving in new fronts and appealing results that keep the hold in retain, for which I keep in check for reminding you how much you hold the spots and expanse dear to my heart. Possessing the innovative drive for intense and projecting confidence due to stay within, pure to be shelved with the best interests referenced in every thought I stress. For unto you, I live. In hopes of unraveling new layers of profound beauty and blessings from the best ends that can for our good be let through.
All the good deeds that as of late been brought into my life owe their origin to you. Their reserved will of indulgence that have always been the pinpoint of my unbiased existence for your cause.
The deeds that I live to fulfill will help me proceed adequately to achieve victory over all mistakes that might test my patience to embrace any form of disdain. the sneak of an innocent appeal to bring to life the dreams of something new, refreshing and taking heed. For the rest of my life is a lifetime I would give in blessings to the woman that holds my heart so she can see the will that is conceived by a man who has found him the dwelling place for his heart."
As my words went out to Lillian, my heart sank from the last lines I rendered “…dwelling place for his heart.”
Obvious, tender and open-rivetting it was when the passion was facing a frontal display or showcase from any nutcase that offered to take the chase. I had taken the chase and embrace whatever slimy ingestions the rejections weighed in their beaming expressions turned in my direction.
I was getting lost with myself as it though seemed Hades had laid base at the feet of my mistakes. Drawing me closer, its motives rendered, yet the confusion that became wholesome of my intuitive persona was the tone-of-the-classics guile his scheme had taken.
It caught me unaware, what index in sort, the predicament would engage to deploy its cruel intentions.
But then I had fallen so deep within the worrying seeds the panacea of my lost hope had dispersed within.
Somewhere I was standing alone in the heap of the post-revolution dung.
Inherently, was mislaid with a tattered piece of clothing the demeanor of my deferred and tumultuously tortured entity of so much strife and fighting power failed to stand akin to each while the edge of my pants suffered the harsh breeze that blew with the nature of those mornings of the distressed weather.
17th Second Month of the Lunar eclipse was the day I was aforementioned to be willed away to the owning of another Do-Willer. One who only bore wishes that would need be stressed and filtered into my dense and dunce mind that juxtaposed the error I never knew how they were made and horrors of displaced positioning my ignorance had born.
I knew very little of the one that waited to decide the bearings of eternity that 'laid in wait' for me from that moment henceforth.
As I held on to my casing of Satchimo bag, I stood still in bewilderment and barely engaged the indulgence of my menial thoughts that were spared for satisfying a desire that meant nothing to proportion.
The only sort of attention I could garner would only bliss for more heights to fuel my inquisitive drive for answers to the naughts in questions and parlay inquisitions of my deterred mind.
No able mines for the reach I long perspired. No inquiries as those I had in summation over the minutes drive of late could be a result of any pre meditated action. For it had no place in my room of thoughts. My thoughts had lost their immunity to the overwhelm of the environment the exchange was about to take place.
Eyes of all the mortal scoundrels glittered with excitement of the kind of satisfaction that fed all parties. The seller was going to reap in profits and more of the credit points that built on his legibility ands credibility all owed to the heinous indulgence from his whole.
The kind of things that mean a low on the epistemology banal of thoughts were ones of little known subjects and the ones that were barely known. For the decay of moral solitude had been long lost in the fossils of bad luck and smeared dreams that laid beneath the sole of my feet. My bare feet.
As much as I wallowed in these dark thoughts that had created for themselves a location in my mind, I tried to escape their grim and enjoy the scenery that was at our reach envisaged.
At that instant, I decided to shift my gaze and shoot a few panoramic spur across the expanse of the Valleys in sight. They looked as though there were no anti-Love cause to juggle them, just as the intensive balance on the potters’ wheel would have been victim to the smashes the Master’s people would have let through from their anger. Problems that were beyond reins of bare sights, evils that had befallen the sphere much over time.
It was hopeless with words clustered to completely believe that there would be a smiting ray that could let through a shaft of its shine to lift off the debris and oozes the length of despair had deposited on the broad of the leaves. None had its fair share of the air that sneered the entire expanse.
Valleys that had been shackled and adorned with excessive explosive eruptions from the works of the ones that dared visit our mines. The sacraments we had adored and grown to love, for such wonder of our world deserved the sort of debauchery they had finally subjected the Haven of the oracle into. Except that the Oracle only crept in the shadows as mallets and metallic objects tore off in lumps and pieces the walls of its mobility.
All openings disregarded blistered in the flames of fortitude just to stretch the forging of the rough-pinnacle edged jewel. One that has its beauty forged in the smiting of Gore.
The smooth-savored center of shinning elegance that such beseech its dominance and cautionary style from the birthplace of its kind in being. Overwhelming treasures that weighed so little in ounces, but possess values that exist in the porous rays that run in the sphere within them.
The rush and push that fuels through the lava of an Amazon volcano in a closer and pleasant view for the locals…and the forte of the Crier who will proceed to engage the foretells to those who came around for the worry of the feat, yet sparing the fate of those who barely heap on concerns for the resort of the feat.
If the drama would be in air when the saturations of what climaxed their assertions.
The author of their distortions.
The moments that succeeded the amazement that begrudgingly wear me down and topple over the basket we had in-picked to retain longterm hopes of sealing all pockets and windows that let be vulnerable like the nets. Inordinate like useless spheres. And written off for it holds none that dwells.
“Are you all packed?” the Director muttered in fear. I knew for one, the least he could do was be a man and tell the truth of the situation that beckoned. Yet, he fidgeted and blew a little heat on the note of his palms, showcasing his doubtful attitude of so much uneasiness.
I tried to look at his face, but the accommodation my eyes could render dared not escape the expanse of the Valleys. The dead Orinoco valleys that stood the chances of being seen no more. Being heard no more.
For the expanse and rises that weigh in on the bleak and bare would be missed. The edges of the cliffs that had given me causes to thread carefully when my exaltations are heightened beyond familiarity aroused and caressed with smear of redemption.
The sphere in which we survived owed little to the scenery of hope and happy endings.
Not that the charms the valleys had possessed were evenly dashed as hopeless dreams, or the beauty and allure from the jewels bore no resemblance to getting nudged, respected and acknowledged for being steps beyond the rest in their den, but the weight of uncertainty that coined and buried the delight and its existence under skies that gave little for resilience.
Grim was losing the grip of its naturally-existing sight for decadence and the silence that extended to the Hills of NWE*, letting them bring forth just dusts and sharp humid from a heavy morning.
Six O’Clock! As the day parted ways to excite the interference of the anticipated light, skies unfold their ingenious feats that promotes the unraveling of their intensive recapped beauty. One that follows suit when the late Summer dawn breaks. Type with properly devoted motives towards the ends that give opening to doors that in return deliver the welcoming of a new religion.
"...Something pleasant, evolving in new fronts and appealing results that keep the hold in retain, for which I keep in check for reminding you how much you hold the spots and expanse dear to my heart. Possessing the innovative drive for intense and projecting confidence due to stay within, pure to be shelved with the best interests referenced in every thought I stress. For unto you, I live. In hopes of unraveling new layers of profound beauty and blessings from the best ends that can for our good be let through.
All the good deeds that as of late been brought into my life owe their origin to you. Their reserved will of indulgence that have always been the pinpoint of my unbiased existence for your cause.
The deeds that I live to fulfill will help me proceed adequately to achieve victory over all mistakes that might test my patience to embrace any form of disdain. the sneak of an innocent appeal to bring to life the dreams of something new, refreshing and taking heed. For the rest of my life is a lifetime I would give in blessings to the woman that holds my heart so she can see the will that is conceived by a man who has found him the dwelling place for his heart."
As my words went out to Lillian, my heart sank from the last lines I rendered “…dwelling place for his heart.”
Obvious, tender and open-rivetting it was when the passion was facing a frontal display or showcase from any nutcase that offered to take the chase. I had taken the chase and embrace whatever slimy ingestions the rejections weighed in their beaming expressions turned in my direction.
I was getting lost with myself as it though seemed Hades had laid base at the feet of my mistakes. Drawing me closer, its motives rendered, yet the confusion that became wholesome of my intuitive persona was the tone-of-the-classics guile his scheme had taken.
It caught me unaware, what index in sort, the predicament would engage to deploy its cruel intentions.
But then I had fallen so deep within the worrying seeds the panacea of my lost hope had dispersed within.
Somewhere I was standing alone in the heap of the post-revolution dung.
Inherently, was mislaid with a tattered piece of clothing the demeanor of my deferred and tumultuously tortured entity of so much strife and fighting power failed to stand akin to each while the edge of my pants suffered the harsh breeze that blew with the nature of those mornings of the distressed weather.
17th Second Month of the Lunar eclipse was the day I was aforementioned to be willed away to the owning of another Do-Willer. One who only bore wishes that would need be stressed and filtered into my dense and dunce mind that juxtaposed the error I never knew how they were made and horrors of displaced positioning my ignorance had born.
I knew very little of the one that waited to decide the bearings of eternity that 'laid in wait' for me from that moment henceforth.
As I held on to my casing of Satchimo bag, I stood still in bewilderment and barely engaged the indulgence of my menial thoughts that were spared for satisfying a desire that meant nothing to proportion.
The only sort of attention I could garner would only bliss for more heights to fuel my inquisitive drive for answers to the naughts in questions and parlay inquisitions of my deterred mind.
No able mines for the reach I long perspired. No inquiries as those I had in summation over the minutes drive of late could be a result of any pre meditated action. For it had no place in my room of thoughts. My thoughts had lost their immunity to the overwhelm of the environment the exchange was about to take place.
Eyes of all the mortal scoundrels glittered with excitement of the kind of satisfaction that fed all parties. The seller was going to reap in profits and more of the credit points that built on his legibility ands credibility all owed to the heinous indulgence from his whole.
The kind of things that mean a low on the epistemology banal of thoughts were ones of little known subjects and the ones that were barely known. For the decay of moral solitude had been long lost in the fossils of bad luck and smeared dreams that laid beneath the sole of my feet. My bare feet.
As much as I wallowed in these dark thoughts that had created for themselves a location in my mind, I tried to escape their grim and enjoy the scenery that was at our reach envisaged.
At that instant, I decided to shift my gaze and shoot a few panoramic spur across the expanse of the Valleys in sight. They looked as though there were no anti-Love cause to juggle them, just as the intensive balance on the potters’ wheel would have been victim to the smashes the Master’s people would have let through from their anger. Problems that were beyond reins of bare sights, evils that had befallen the sphere much over time.
It was hopeless with words clustered to completely believe that there would be a smiting ray that could let through a shaft of its shine to lift off the debris and oozes the length of despair had deposited on the broad of the leaves. None had its fair share of the air that sneered the entire expanse.
Valleys that had been shackled and adorned with excessive explosive eruptions from the works of the ones that dared visit our mines. The sacraments we had adored and grown to love, for such wonder of our world deserved the sort of debauchery they had finally subjected the Haven of the oracle into. Except that the Oracle only crept in the shadows as mallets and metallic objects tore off in lumps and pieces the walls of its mobility.
All openings disregarded blistered in the flames of fortitude just to stretch the forging of the rough-pinnacle edged jewel. One that has its beauty forged in the smiting of Gore.
The smooth-savored center of shinning elegance that such beseech its dominance and cautionary style from the birthplace of its kind in being. Overwhelming treasures that weighed so little in ounces, but possess values that exist in the porous rays that run in the sphere within them.
The rush and push that fuels through the lava of an Amazon volcano in a closer and pleasant view for the locals…and the forte of the Crier who will proceed to engage the foretells to those who came around for the worry of the feat, yet sparing the fate of those who barely heap on concerns for the resort of the feat.
If the drama would be in air when the saturations of what climaxed their assertions.
The author of their distortions.
The moments that succeeded the amazement that begrudgingly wear me down and topple over the basket we had in-picked to retain longterm hopes of sealing all pockets and windows that let be vulnerable like the nets. Inordinate like useless spheres. And written off for it holds none that dwells.
“Are you all packed?” the Director muttered in fear. I knew for one, the least he could do was be a man and tell the truth of the situation that beckoned. Yet, he fidgeted and blew a little heat on the note of his palms, showcasing his doubtful attitude of so much uneasiness.
I tried to look at his face, but the accommodation my eyes could render dared not escape the expanse of the Valleys. The dead Orinoco valleys that stood the chances of being seen no more. Being heard no more.
For the expanse and rises that weigh in on the bleak and bare would be missed. The edges of the cliffs that had given me causes to thread carefully when my exaltations are heightened beyond familiarity aroused and caressed with smear of redemption.
The sphere in which we survived owed little to the scenery of hope and happy endings.
Not that the charms the valleys had possessed were evenly dashed as hopeless dreams, or the beauty and allure from the jewels bore no resemblance to getting nudged, respected and acknowledged for being steps beyond the rest in their den, but the weight of uncertainty that coined and buried the delight and its existence under skies that gave little for resilience.
Grim was losing the grip of its naturally-existing sight for decadence and the silence that extended to the Hills of NWE*, letting them bring forth just dusts and sharp humid from a heavy morning.