The Glory Undefiled

Glory undefiled: The redemption of this Impossible Childhood

In the time of my birth, O, life has given me my first sight

After a few years shall my memory have it

Erased, but for so long I wanted my self to delight

In the things I consider as light..

O my fatherland so great and peaceful, the sky

Speaks with an adorable voice with the truth , "How lovely

Is this man who was born to have his desires, so graceful true,

He sees everything, and in all of these glorifies he

God with the song he always sing."

Behold is my face so luring, the son of my eyes stands

And my lips meet with another, such a lovely show, now

Am I defiled with everything that began out of the sands,

Alas, have I been blessed to magnify the throne of the crow!

But behold I grew, and the throne of such crow became dew,

So many a knowledgable men came through achievements

To pass unto me the true meaning of greatness! Such talents

Has God given unto me, that I no longer want to eat meat!

Alas in all I do and have, one woman shall I give a great part

So true and so romanized is this life, of whose glory undefiled,

Behold I declare unto my love, forever shall we create this art

For in my life so near in its climatic ending, I shall cease all just

To save you from life´s doom soon pending...

Now say I, "am I so unworthy to have received but one from my stolen glory?

What sin have I done, or what thought have I created to have defiled

My life so weary?! My life pending it´s doom so near, and so with one

Prayer state I, Before I rise up and do thine biding, wipe away this defiled tear."

The Tongue called Language

NONJDAEJA 

Behold, the tongue so wet sometimes dry
With a dead animal roasted shall it dance,
But with the bitter truth and ignorance shall it lie
With one verse in the day of its dark trance!


So many forms doth one language hold, the
Tongue is come and is ready to fold.. With a
Word it shall fall, but prepare, for this word
Shall become your lord.


Alas! There comes a man named fear, he is come
In order to scorn the man called a Seer. This fate
Will in no wise damn, the Seer who plays not his
Holy drum 


The song of God´s word, the vision of the holy throne
Not one can achieve, neither can one perceive, that
Library filled with meaning, and knowledge.. Behold
I say unto you, this is visible in a nation where one can
Hold a pledge.


A welcoming entity, doth say unto me, O, thou man of
Belonging. The nation of one´s origin, be the image of this
Glorious kin and may the love of the Tongue bring one home,
To the place one loves alone.

Aiwefäst

An mortis, un meztus ont in Cner, ta cetia de inter, ohn Aiwefäst
(An morrtis, un mestus ont in ner, ta setiya de inter, on Eye-weh-fest) 

In the hour of the prelude of times, be the calling
Of the mighty husbandman, behold, he is able to proctect himself
From all lies. This I tell you according to the truth, the west
Is my bed, I came only from the opposite, for, lo, is nothing always
The best. I speak not in order to give the Whiners the opportunity
To please, for not a day shall pass when they shall call me to cease.

O the knowledge of philosophers and Roman governors
Allure me, with the scent of Intelligent´s fragrant cologne
O do look behold, I am to seek pride in possessing a Roman´s
Tone. Alas is the seed of my eyes come, and is in front of all
Standing with a mighty Stand, O such glory that one´s image
Should not be dum.

He who passes by me and scorns me to be still and desire
Affection in that which I know is ill, is nothing more but someone
Who believes in illness who bears with him the burden of life's
Drill. O the blood that keeps me alive, O is the blood of one
Who inherit such history, yea, shall I always cry: Viva!
Behold is my fate faster than that of a cheetah.

The Hideous Sight III: The Chooser of Fate

Alas it is come! The Possible in the disguise of impossibility!
Fear this, for none shall come and be compatible to your 
Incapability!


The Gospel of Fate: The Epic of the Dreamless Man



 1 Behold I saw a root from time I knew it was the Truth
My heart came from afar and my soul doth not really
Part, I only received what I never wanted to conceive

 2 Alas it came to me at last that fruitful knowledge of
Which I know shall never be past, let no man put asunder
Unto this of which I do plunder.

 3 There lies a voice from the Heavens as I walk the valley
Of deadly knowledge, Hear ye, hear ye! The laughter
Of the dreary!


 4 Thus I looked beneath the Valley and found the waters
Of Deception, I marveled for to me it was redemption, thus
Said I, Who can walk this sea, of which one who is deceived
Can never see!? and the laughter spoke to me, saying,
Neither man nor beast, but only one, who, in himself is least.

 5  As I heard this I teared and jumped.. Thus I shouted,
Come beasts of the air! Ye who crawl in the air with flare
Give me wings, I pray thee, so be it that I sing.


 6 And every flying beast inclined, and took me from my back
As I, who seeth every nation, delight..

 7 I told the beasts of the air, as I flew without great despair
Of want to touch the earth and without desire to walk thereon,
Bring me never to shore! That I do not encounter that wicked
Lore, let me be forever in delight, as my soul rest in unending
Peace beneath this light..

 8 And the beasts of the air warned me, being always in the presence of
The wind shall haunt my mind and soul, if not my goal to walk ashore, thus
I said, O my helpers, do bring me instead to the mysterious Dweller, for once again desire I
To see me as a Whiner.
 
 9 And the beasts brought me down, until the waters thus leaving the air behold
I did not frown. But as the fowls of the air has brought me down, my frown
Became a cloud, for in my mind was I below the ground

 10 After which I suddenly awoke, behold destiny before I knew, yea,
Did what I spoke.

  Chapter II The Faithless Whiner

  1 As I awoke from a dream that I didn't know, was there
The unknown that gave me fear, and I said in curiousity
Who goeth there? If so an answer be, let destiny speak,
Who art thou that seeketh?

 2 And this unknown opened the door, it lead me though
To a mystery foretold, thus replied the unknown, It is I, the
Voice of the dreary, here came I to speak unto you, the things
That you must do, O, thou loveless creeping thing, why dost thou listen
To the hateful singing?

 3 I laughed and said, Why a laughter such as you, telling me what to do?
And he did hearken and he heared my heart, it was said he, the most
Hated thing anyone knew and from the cause, did my anger spew
And responded with truth, saying, Behold I am without faith, behold
The unwanted traveleth always to my fate!

 4 And Laughter scorned, saying, Thou hast one thing amiss and that
Should be thine least. I give you this, if anywhere thine soul wishes to
Go, declare it and it shall be so.

 5 And I spoke and said many places to dwell, but one thing was, I never had
Will to be in hell, so as I willed the Dweller to bring
Me there again, so desire I to see the mistress of joyful gain

 Chapter III The Mistress called Luna

 1 Alas I the Whiner is come cold, never again for any
Sun to behold!

 2 But was I in my own in the house of the infamous (As I willed to be here so),
As I reaped after I 've sown, the clean waters preserved, all myself alone was a cry
Heard, saying, Behold this infamous man, curse be unto him and
His mother the witch!

 3 And they came and took the reaped and turn the preserved vile
I hearkened unto their hateful voice, and until the night did I no noise.

 4 Behold the night relieves as I preserved the trees, a wolf I heard screaming
Oh poor animal truly did I say not deceiving thus I came and cured, O, that wolf please
Be whole!

 5 Thus the wolf rewarded me, with a kiss, she flattered me.

 6 And this wolf I gave a name, in accordance to her: Luna
For her spirit and so that of the moon are the same.

 7 Behold I heared a foot, with a gun, so dreadful! His eyes, for
Heaven's sake met me, and tried to slay me, O destiny, let it not be me!

 8 And the wolf ran faster than the air, O, with a bite she did dare..
And the man who tried to slay me, ran in fear of her and me, she came
To me and in my face did she lick me, and told me in a tongue
That I know well, Du hast mich gegen Tod gerettet(You have saved me from death).
Again she licked me, und darum bin ich dein(And therefore I am yours),
she continued, and as a minute passed, her smile did last,
Ich liebe dich bis zum Tod was her last word before her eyes turned, and as also
Her face looked like a corn.

Chapter IV: The goddess of the Evening, the spirit of blight


 1 At the strike of the hour's end, the heavens fled from me
As I was led by the wolf, to prevent me from seeing a creep.

 2 From the north I did see, a river shone as if it was the morning,
The wolf who led me swam, I came and looked, alas, curiousity
Gave a damn for when the wolf arose from the waters, she looked
Like a goddess, O, behold a compliment flatters!

 3 Not one dirty thing came in mind, a question was asked why such
Statement was spoken, for one thing, this goddess had not cover, one
Thing came only in my mind, "God bless me, when this woman shall
Become my lover." 


 4 As I stood there in my marvel, I looked and gathered so many a cover,
In my mind I was given a decision in what to choose, so as my hands were
Playing the pain-liberator, the woman spoke in the 12th hour's latter, "Are you
Come to have me wear a cover? Behold I am come, to bless all your crops
And to have you from the oppressions of thine men delievered.. "


--It shall be continued--

The Hideous Sight II: My soul's unclean clothing

Of self unsatisfaction and fear and absolute horror

 Of all that is right and righteous
Why do you do a thing in order to delay, we choose
Who can save those, I shout, from those who do
Not cleave to their eye's pupil, let no man be deceived
Of one's pencil.

Behold, I took the chance for him, I told
I have no one to praise my fold, truly cold
My voice is like a weapon, when fired, look
I say, all things are destroyed.. Not one appreciation
Employed, but a wish for my death enthroned.

When alone and cold, there is no support and
When deceived and in need, not one relieves
All my previous sightings are enough to be
Yet all men state still, that I must be... If only ever
They knew how to be me.

Alas, a clean sighting is burned! The planet has turned a fold,
My father left my household in the second year of my birth
So therefore behold! Let my name be forsaken, if that be
The case and my corpse lie in darkness, if ever my soul seeks
Deaths.. Why is a horrible thing done to me, all the things
I seeked, not one came to be.

Alas, all men are better than me! All I wanted they have beneath..
One expression I held, did they spat on, so grievious.. Where is
Salvation in the perlious? Each tear that my eyes drop, is meaningless
To those who saw not my drought, lo, no one has. Not even the angels
Who through me passed.

Alas, it is so easy to describe me, let alone those who derived from me
Weak who always seeks, Incompetent who doth 'pretend', Racist a judgment
From many a judgmentalist, Untalented from many who maintained their beauty
A monster from he who seeks my so-called good 'deity' a devil, from those
Who continues to seek my 'natural' evil.

"Oh wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from this body of death?! " - Paul s' Apostolie
"If God is merciful, then at death I would be renewed but if I wake up in the grave of Fecnaec, then it is better than I never existed at all." - Carl s'ormä (Carl the former)

The Hideous Sight: Na' lera nug

The Making of a Hideous Sighting

My heart doth not quench
The Illusion of the deep
May it be no more, as what I can clean
From the hideous stench.

The Normality is gone 
And the delay is done
In prayer do I only conceive
The secrets of my unwavering deceits

O Wake me, O, Lord from this nightmare
Who can help me overcome, the debt
Of my dream's fare? Lo, Better is
The Paper than me who does not care.

O my heart, stop pushing me
Cease fooling the unknown seed, and
Continue not, the pathetic
Sighting!


Let it be no more, as the paper
Do soar as the place of my 
Person mourn! O the pain of
Self unsatisfaction is unending!


The conflicts are confusing
The bus of my dreams are dying
For all I know, the paper who scorns
Me to be, is low.


Understand the mystery, I do mourn
For the fact is always taken to what
I do not adore. O ye paper, have domination
Against the door!
 

God is being unfair

Stolen Childhood: The Passitivity of an unanswered Wish

God's being selfish to me
He did do a lot of things
Thank God am no longer
A Satanist, or else would my soul lie to me
Why is this then unfair to be? For he has taken everything from me.

The point of living a life
Is all pointless, not once have I awoken
With a smile, saying, Thank God, I am alive.

A time of peace and love and cuddliness has been delievered from me
I prayed the Lord's Prayer but specifically did I pray,
God, deliever me from evil. Deliver me from evil
Yet he delievered me from the wrong sickle.

The Point of living a life
Is all pointless, without having one awoken
With a smile, saying, I'm glad that I'm a child.

Look! Religion took and politics drooled
Please stay out of my teenage life!
Now I regret everything about goodly delights
For not appreciation did me protection from fights.

The Point of living a life
Is all pointless, with having one awoken
With a frown, saying, "Mother, prepare my suit! For I am going to work!"
Yet none ever took a stop and turned a fold, saying, "I thank you for all you do."

God, please! Do not disease, when an opportunity is come, please do not dismiss me! When an opportunity is come, to get out of it all and leave for a month of delightful gifts, please do not release, your wanting will.

The Song of the Poet

Das Lied des Dichters

Mysteria Poeta
Non Silentia
Non Blasphemia
O Domina mea!
Poeta magna, Ex Roma
In Lingua Latina

The name of the Poet unknown
Is shown through the words of
His own: The mystery's lable
Upholds the age of the Poet's
Stronghold. From seven to eight
Sylables still shall the Poet speak,
Until the sun restores the day of
His beak.

Oh Great and marvellous language
You, an organ of the Poet, being able
To speak in no less than three hundred
Worlds without pausing his own fold,
Neither in German do you stop, nor in
English, even in Romanian do ye give
Bargage even in the tongue of the pirate.

From the first teil of the Latin language
Shows already the brief explaination of
The English language, seeing it in the Poet's
Face, the German language is no different
From the days of its own age, but oh how
Many languages can the Poet reveal? Lo,
His own mothertongue has no power to
To cease his passionate field..

TEIL two: The Epic of the Infamous Alien

Behold how I admire three other worlds,
With no smilitarity to that of his own
Lords! He being able to create a world
Of his own, with a good tongue and a wise
Land, give now the difference between the
Poet and the god Zeus.

An Alien he is to his own tongue, why does
He do the work of other aliens and speak
An unknown tongue? Behold he plays God!
Oh cease from your foolish scorn shouts the
Poet, for I am free to wander different lores!
O I pity you prisoners of self culture, for the
Free man doth call you self destroyers!

TEIL three: The goddess Rhytmias

Every culture upholds a god, even a
Tongue praises a goddess, but what
Slays me most is that the Poet worships
All gods from across his own pen.
A goddess hath a poet and her name according
To the Poet: Rhytmias the daughter of Veritas.

Rhytmias that glorious goddess requires not
The eye to see her glorious dress, but desires
The ear to hear her wonderful share, I dare
All men to critize not the spacing of the hand-writting
But to see Rhytmias' share of bringing beauty
In a paper full of myterious glares.

TEIL four: The Joyful Hand and the Crying Eyes

As the Poet speaks of epic mysteries, so doth
His very eyes speak of crying epicis, while
As his hand writes therefore the epic of their
Grief, fear not! Spoke the Hand, For I shall cleanse
The paper from his rotten stare! Continued the
Hand, I cry therefore replied the Eye, For beneath
My back lies a crack continued the Eye......

Let therefore proclaimed the Poet release the
Grip of his eye's tears, for from his passion is found
Not only in the peer of Epics but also in the scream
Of his sadistics: Not a word of joy can be searched in
His paper, for when an Epic of sadness journeys
Along, even his eyes carries a bow. Let not this
Discourage you, for one writes not in order
To scorn.

Smile declared the Poet! For no more is the storm
Of the gore, there is happiness a foot, when love
Is your sure, I laugh said the Poet, even the hand
Dances in the name of the Clarinet! When there is
No Instrument around, music is still heard, and
When there is no clapping sounds, a herd of mouths
Are laughing about!  This is the glory of the Poet,
The storm he can cease and the joyful sun he can
See, for whether there is snow, he can still swim
Though beneath the coldest shore, this is the mystery
Of the Poet, that everything is Epic in his lore.

Poem to Dekular

(The former heavens lusts for you
Even the God of the old, commands
The everlasting hell to seduce you.)

The man god of men gods, who has told
You to wield the sword of our God
Is it new to you, that neither the dust
Shall prevail against you?


Face the tree of all hollows as you seek,
The fall shall be for the son of the earth.
Not bread nor grape will ever satisfy
Your monster.

Black and white your decision has come
Open the earth and split water from fire!
But satisfaction is never more than you liar!
For not only gold doth your own people desire.

A poisonous grip has held the world,
A name for each and a number for every beach
May all men be not deceived, if ever they know
How to teach.

But at the end will one be opened
Your son will come forth and be tormented
Not foolishness exceeds to you
For blasphemy is in love with you.


O sweet angel of stirs
Is not the heavens your fear?
Your lust for our daughters
Will soon be a permanent creed
Will their offsprings be near
For your coming, O, dear?

Your words satisfies tongues
Your bliss embraces diseases
Shall I even say it in Latin?
That your embrace is ever so sweet

I can't describe so much of your
Undying lure, your charms
Are increadibly irresisteble
As if you are the whore made in
Godlike form