Aquileia (/ˌækwɪˈliːə/; Italian: [akwiˈlɛːja]; Friulian: Acuilee/Aquilee/Aquilea,Venetian: Aquiłeja/Aquiłegia, German: Aglar, Slovene: Oglej) is an ancient Roman city in Italy, at the head of the Adriatic at the edge of the lagoons, about 10 kilometres (6 mi) from the sea, on the river Natiso (modern Natisone), the course of which has changed somewhat since Roman times. Today, the city is small (about 3,500 inhabitants), but it was large and prominent in Antiquity as one of the world's largest cities with a population of 100,000 in the 2nd century AD. and is one of the main archeological sites of Northern Italy.
Aquileia was founded as a colony by the Romans in 180/181 BC along the Natiso River, on land south of the Julian Alps but about 13 kilometres (8 mi) north of the lagoons. Presumably named from the probably Celtic word Akylis, the colony served as a strategic frontier fortress at the north-east corner of transpadane (on the far side of the Po river) Italy and was intended to protect the Veneti, faithful allies of Rome during the invasion of Hannibal and the Illyrian Wars. The colony would serve as a citadel to check the advance into Cisalpine Gaul of other warlike peoples, such as the hostile Carni to the northeast in what is now Carnia and Histri tribes to the southeast in what is now Istria. In fact, the site chosen for Aquileia was about 6 km from where an estimated 12,000 Celtic Taurisci nomads had attempted to settle in 183 BC. However, since the 13th century BC, the site, on the river and at the head of the Adriatic, had also been of commercial importance as the end of the Baltic amber (sucinum) trade. It is, therefore, theoretically not unlikely that Aquileia had been a Gallic oppidum even before the coming of the Romans. However, few Celtic artifacts have been discovered from 500 BC to the Roman arrival.
The Patriarchate of Aquileia was an episcopal see in northeastern Italy, centred on the ancient city of Aquileia situated at the head of the Adriatic, on what is now the Italian seacoast, at the confluence of the Anse and the Torre. For many centuries it played an important part in history, particularly in that of the Holy See and northern Italy, and a number of church councils were held there.
No longer a residential bishopric, it is today classified as a titular see.
Ancient tradition asserts that the see was founded by St. Mark, sent there by St. Peter, previous to his mission to Alexandria. St. Hermagoras is said to have been its first bishop and to have died a martyr's death (c. 70). At the end of the third century (285) another martyr, St. Helarus (or St. Hilarius) was bishop of Aquileia.
In the course of the fourth century the city was the chief ecclesiastical centre for the region about the head of the Adriatic, Regio X of the Roman emperor Augustus' eleven regions of Italy, "Venetia et Histria." In 381, St. Valerian appears as Metropolitan bishop of the churches in this territory; his synod of that year, held against the Arians, was attended by 32 (or 24) bishops. Valerian was succeeded by St. Chromatius (388–408) known for his homiletic and exegetical works. He promoted the work of Sts. Jerome and Rufinus and kept contact with Sts. Ambrose of Milan and John Chrysostom.
A rope tightens
Breath constricted
No hand pulls this is self-inflicted sickness
Sickness
Self diagnosed without witness
Wish list grip fist
The beggary of riches
A belly full fights never willingly
An empty stomach does not have the energy to finish it
Layers in between
Padded by a dream
Stretching for the means
Without thought of exhausting the seams
No space for indiginity
On the face of simplicity
A taste of sufficiency's
A bellyfull of lethargy
A dash of apathy a pinch of extacy's a recipe
Serving up a feast for the beast of our treachery
Not sure if your getting celebrity's out effigy
I hear just fine
But I'm deaf to those next to me
Conflict it perplexes me
Cause out biggest battle
Is now we're so free that we choose to be shackled
I'm stuck freedom lasso
This invisible strain of the human stain
Colours every brain, vein
Thus chained to another's pain
We may not be the artist by we surely are the fram
We may just be the smoke
But we cannot blame the flame
Strange is the fruit
That nourishes not the vein
Yet we are odder still
For we seek it like the rain
Nothing bounds out path
Yet we march perfect in lane
Whoever saw a tiger that desired to be tamed?
Reality defies
Nature does not know surprise
Yet the lesion of our season blinds even the eagle's eyes
Spies dread not headlock tight as threadknot
Get lost why throw a bone to a dead dog?
This is not charity
That is just sarcasm
That's why we bite so hard and never bark at em
Spark at em's insane
It's play gather and prey
When even the mighty tiger
He desires to be tamed
I'm stuck freedome lasso
They act as if it's positive
Though it's so obviously derogative
And even if you're bobby
This is never your prerogative
It's obvious we're warriors
And crooked just like bobby is
But colleges and mockeries
Will never make a socrates
Apologies and robberies
They follow with atrocity
Sorrow and hypocrisy
Don't make very good crockery
Watchin' this it's horror bliss
And one day I will promise this
The day the tiger wakes