And if the stars
no longer gleam,
will memory
enough suffice?
And when the Sun
its last beam spent
will heaven be nice,
reconsider its withdraw?
Indeed, blame man
for Light abuse! Indeed
blame man for lack of
truce! – the wars go on.
But never blame yourselves
for man’s Free Will Darks,
and let flawed fools retain
at least a small grace of Divine
Sparks.
Proposal
_____________
By: Muchov Nuttin
Ababstract
________________
To introduce vast amounts of sodium to rough raw sand aka silca.
Objective
------------------
To create sodium crystals that extract gold coloring from sand.
To extract iron from sad to create an ironized crystal.
Overall objective
----------------------------
To extract pure gold in large qualities.
Idea
----------
Using desert sand and beach sand
Injecting hot malta like sodium into
Both raw and rough( sand) materials.
To inspire an ironish state of matter
There red crystals can be visible known
Rubato odvious
to the visible eye as ironized silca.
There the extraction of gold can occur.
"Rubato Odvious" a state were the reds
indicate the presence of gold.
Profet Objective
-------------------------------------
To make this way of gold mining
the most profitable way of doing
So.
Existence is a frail leaf
battered by the storm
Tossed about by winds’ desires
vibrance turned forlorn
Why cling we so to what we know
returns to ash and dust
To make our mark, to light a spark
a candle midst the dark
All the blood that humanity has shed in wars throughout history
Succeeded only in irrigating the bloodthirsty battlefields of hate!
Demetrios Triiatis
16 September 2026
WANNA DANCE LIKE DAVID
DA DA DA DA DA DANCE
Wanna dance like David danced, with all his might, leaping, whirling
Humility, Unreserved Joy, Ignoring Pride
Wanna dance like David
Wanna dance like David danced, with all his might, leaping, whirling
Celebrating return of the Ark of the Covenant was brought into Jerusalem
In leaps and bounds, I’m gonna praise Him
With mine legs and feet, I’m gonna praise Him
With the power of my voice and tongue, I’m gonna sing hymns sing His songs
Wanna dance like David, Wanna dance like David
Dances before the Lord, Wanna dance like David
Removed my royal robes, Wanna dance like David
And wore a simple linen, Wanna dance like David
Dancing praises holy, Wanna dance like David
Cloth or naked, holy glory, Wanna dance like David
9/15/26
Written by James Edward Lee & The Corinthian©
The biggest question of our time
Is low vs high trust culture.
Which one do you want to live in
And be part of?
There is a difference you know,
Valid differences based on how people act.
Do you want your neighbors to act with integrity
Or with impunity?
If you say impunity, you don’t even belong
In a first world nation.
Either go back
Or take a visit and don’t come back,
High trust is, as with all trust,
Something earned not given.
(9/14/26)
I do the washing
i don't say anything
I half to cook
& I wont talk back
The mom
mame'
the wife
Ms. Sheila
I do it all
every night
everyday
it never gets old
when I'm nervous
I take pills
he hits the wall
It never fails
He's dad
He's mad as hell
He wont stop
he is a husband
I carry the rings
I needle alone
Where are the kids
in the rom?
We must accomplish more
We are never separated
when will it stop
when he is gone'
That's when ill be gone
gone home with my mamma'
The borders fell like fever from a long-tormented frame,
No steel was turned, no legions marched, no decree spoke their name.
For when the node of silver wood began its quiet rise,
The phantom lines of sovereign pride dissolved before their eyes.
The ancient ghosts of territory, of fortress, and of crest,
Like winter frost before the sun, sank deep into the breast.
The pain that once had armed the hand and built the concrete wall
Was opened to the anchor node, unmetered, shared by all.
A mother’s cry in Sector One, the drought of Sector Four,
No longer stopped at checkpoints or the barricaded door.
The collective mind, in empathy, received the bitter sting,
And wove the ache of centuries into a single string.
Where once the barbed dividers stood to guard the hollow grain,
Now surged a tide of healing hands to wash away the stain.
The map of old Vaeloria, where blood-bought nations bled,
Became a tapestry of care, by quiet mercy fed.
No citizen was left an island, stranded in their grief;
The shared scar of the species brought its ultimate relief.
Respect begins where
Judgment ends.
Respect emerges when we
See each other clearly.
Respect stands unyielding,
Untouched by color, creed,
Or gender.
the homeless man who is begging for money
most believe he must be a drug addict or convict
what if you lost your home, your job, your spouse and alone?
you could end up beside him, lost and hopeless
the cheaters, liars and dishonest people
most think they do not know or associate with them
as they sit in the church pews every Sunday
pretending to be honest, pure and holy
some are teachers, bankers, police officers
a facade to fool the best judges of character
Before the city grew teeth of storeys,
Every road was once a footpath of dark earth,
Every skyline a village dream feigning height.
The whirlwind arrives like an ancestral drum,
Beating zinc roofs into memory,
While the soil drinks without question.
Maize rises like angry dust,
Crops sleep beneath the earth like buried wealth,
The old iroko keeps census of generations.
We call ourselves urban, as if asphalt
Could bleach the village from our blood,
As if language could divorce us from reality.
Every man carries an ancestral footpath,
Every woman a forgotten rib in the bones,
Every last name is a door to somewhere rural.
The city is only a village that learnt to disguise itself,
And civilisation, perhaps, is merely distance,
From the stream that first taught us to swim.
When the rain smells of the earth,
Listen keenly—the village speaks through you;
Everyone is a village man, even in hired suits.
From Vandeikya to Eko sluthers the same rhythm,
Only the midriff of imagination pats on them.
"I hate it when..." Fill in the blank
We can divine evolutionary purpose for most emotions
Fear, love, compassion, etc...
That rational thought is supposed to leaven
"I hate it when I wake up tired."
When will we grow tired of hate?
I have to admit
at times I am intellectually
lazy – settling for the thoughts
and leadership of others. Being
wrong is a heavy responsibility
when it comes to life and death.
When it comes to failure or success.
The chef knows the heartache of
a bad flavor. The captain, a sunk
ship. The father, no roof over his
family’s head. What must God think?
With infinite wells provided, and so few,
having the blessed opportunity, willing to
draw for themselves.
-----------------------------------------------------
"Youth is too often wasted on the young"
as Freedom on the Free!
Lately I’ve come to realize my definition of love
Is not about joy and completion and belonging,
But more about loss and longing
A sense of grief for what once was
But never will be again.
I don’t think this makes me unique
But probably not in the majority either.
I think of all this today
The one year anniversary
Of Charlie Kirk’s assassination
Because the shock of that loss
To all of US is still so raw,
A wound just beneath the surface
That may never fully heal.
This recognition of love
Bound up inextricably with loss and grief
Makes me wonder if I am still in the minority.
I pray I’m not, as I wish the best for this nation
And this world, but I fear I am wrong,
And the callous heart that celebrates hate
Is still on the ascendant and not decline.
What will it take for America and the world
To have a change of heart?
I do not know.
Maybe it’ll start with the sacrifice Charlie made,
But it still has so far to go.
(9/10/26)
The unique bleat of the ram’s horn (shofar) draws the crowds
like the wailing at the Temple’s western wall, its symbolism plays loud
Yet it is not the essence of the Jewish New Year
which is belonging –
to his own people, one must first connect
And if he will not, God too he will come to reject
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