Authors Survival To be an author of the present, and never speaking of the past,

the mind cannot conceive the true meaning of historical aesthetics; the source of
my instilment details, of the struggles just to stay alive, through indignation,
betrayed into the dangerous character of an Author, I sought among the prosperity,
to de program the destructions of a tube legations that toxins the mind, a free
chose of birth, that constitute my liberty to speak, the army is not an army, when
the warrior fights among each other, and the people suffer from the addictive
addiction for power, what is revolution? When the windows are closed in, and there
is no link, the miss conception of passage, Salvatore of righteousness; the
loyalty died when the hero performed miracles.

But yet I found the aesthetics; modern Philosophy participated of the refinement,
inflicting pain of the dead shall not rise, only if the truth is not told, my pen
speaks of the dignity beyond death, the hero's of inheritance shall not die, only
if I choose to speak in darkness, without recovery of my dignity and those who
walk with prophecies that was given by the Almighty God in heaven, but unto those
who cultivate with their victorious arms of greed, I shall recite the constitution
of justice, but unto my people who lived upon the abomination of man and earth
which they defended with their blood; excluding the human God's who dictate the
solitary of un spoken truth. Nevertheless the sensitivity of truth may contaminate
the order that has been resolve to an un civilized institution of dead man
bureaucracies, I have travel places where no man has gone, subsided by the human
death chambers of mind, but yet I conceive my proclamation of educational success
through the congestion that the roots shall rise below the porous of the dead
roots. In this hierologic prescriptions of those who continue to archive the
historical events, consistently to an assertion of the rights of man, and the
rights of Nature and events,

I give unto man the blue print of this divesting world, and man who close their
eyes to the restitutions of change, yet on this first, and probably last occasion,
in this resolution of aesthetics should I embark to see a cause like this rescued
from the embroidery of my pen, if I exhort my reevaluations my pen shall become
weak, in which I shall obtrude my Sentiments upon the world, I may be sensitize,
if I inscribe a piece, whose only merit is the humanity and freedom of its
historical lies, sentiments to darkness, shall only submerse the retro active
completions of truth, I have principally on this journey under all odds of
adjustment to derived them of biblical and historical facts. Beneath a milder sky
let peace introduce the genius and arts and the libations of the ancestries, and
the integrity without insuring their duration, to invoke passion and let
philosophy and science glory in a race of illustrious disciples the prophets'
seminary of spiritual grace.
I'll hear the voices, the ancestors of yesterday, Virtue's legacy of tongues Shall
sound against genocide of race, Unto I focus on humble, shall not my dignity be
inherited as cowardly infirmity, I stand by the instructions of the Almighty God,
and Jesus the son of the savior, I take my instructions, with great wisdom of the
stroll, Let thy brother stand in accord, let not their supplier of death, shall
the sons of Commerce, fear not the wrath, loyalty if not embraced, worse than the
midnight Devil, Fear not the marksmen plan.

Suffering through the darkness of UN Recovery, Libation I stand at attention,

trying to understand, the darkness that lies upon the earth, Division stronger
than the rivers that rise upon mans feet , The blood that runs from my veins, I
shall take the lashing of the world, I shall not stand still, I shall run through
the trill of fields, where my ancestors built the liberation, I shall run with the
torch, sub servant to the lord, crying no victim song, no longer shall I stand
still, summoned from the hill of justice the resurrection of change, until I
spread the words of the Almighty God. my people to the mountain, when will we
break the indoctrination of hatred disregarding all the laws of God, shall we get
it right? I herd it on the mountain of recovery, one hand on the clock.

The Universe slowly comes to and end. My native land that lives by the accordance
of the devil, after the legacy of our ancestors, multi color rainbow, have we come
to a calamity, where man no longer care? The treason that sits upon the doors of
our ancestors; The doors slowly closing, silhouetted by Satan, The scars of my
hand, whispering the history, thou wisdom, thou love, waves fair well. Thou slave
of avarice, that can't stop the mind.
The cancer of death, betrayal of a lost soul, trying to find self, The cage bird
sings no victim song, He look upon the earth, He knows his space of sanctuary, And
would not be captured by the beast, Dignity to man, if not kept safe,
belligerency, shackles, deny my self of a mind, Ringing the chimes of inner death,
Give me dignity are give me death, hatred of a memory, conformity, to another mans
pledge. Hear the bellowing sounds rising up from the depths of humanity; Life is
death, death is life, crying out to the soul of men words spoken, being placed in
discord, words of peace. The soul of a poet, Life after death You shall embrace
the words of ancient times, Through the universal space of mind .The peaceful
place of integrity. Perhaps, you will hear the words, of calm, written from the
poet within. The toxins of suffering, the sleeping darkness; the soul that rejects
the formality of deterring ways.
Love calms the inner peace; I shall live, as my words, spoken with love. Poet
after death, my words continue to live on. Darkness has no power off my pen. I
live within, the words of a poet, death shall not, stop the spoken words, Life is
death, Death is life, Poet the prophet of spoken words.
Spirits of thoughts, the birth of wisdom, Spirituality, understandings, Creations,
life, death, love, cries of the earth, God that lives among, us all, the evolution
of men, the man, the great tool of civilization, which he stands.

Author Jacqueline Amos

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jackieamos2@yahoo.com