My friend, young as a whipper-snapper
You fought at fourteen for our good states.
You went to war, they said.
Your greedy relatives took your estate
But, that's not why you fought. Instead
You saw our Nation and its ways
Would someday be a great and mighty sign.
To bring liberty to many shores
To bring about the rights of man in time.
Washington your general, you went to battle
At Camden Field. Benedict Arnold would defect
For the day of Camden's bloody loss.
You, your young veins poured out from a belly wound
For upon the battlefield, the glating silver toss.
Yet, Twenty Thousand are your kin
Now today, and even seen...
You are a man who is remembered
For you died serving as a kid.

Jezebel was a very evil witch.
She saw all, and espied it upon the tapestry.
Therefore, what was real, she said was not
And what was not, she said was real.
Thus, all things became a mess
When she changed the times and laws
To make every statement False.

"For," she said, "If I am queen,
"I get to make true. What I wish to make true.
"Therefore, if a rival King were born
"I get to make it a day which I choose.
"For I am, and there is no one else.
"I make the laws, I make the customs
"All truth is hinged off of my desires."

Elijah, like other men,
Had a memory, not perfect, but enough.
He remembered the arts and sciences
As some of it were.
Yet, he saw, the arts and sciences were made false.
Thus, he became a little insane
And bit his nails, and chattered his teeth
Until, he came upon Herodotus.
He saw it had changed.

Thus, Elijah cried, "It is Jezebel!
"It is Ahab! It is Jehoram!"
And she allied with Sennacherib, too.
And thus, he set to prove it.
Yet, all mocked and laughed.
They said, "You are just a loon
"Elijah. No such thing is possible."
Yet, Jezebel's demonic spies
Crept into the corners of all the houses
And changed all time, all law,
All science, all custom.
To which, it was Baal,
And Elijah would not bow the knee.

Thus, Elijah cried out,
"I see Good, and I've seen Good
"And all the stories lost their luster!"
Jezebel cried, "It is better, don't you know?
"Don't let people have too much hope
"Or they become weak like you."

Yet, she mocked one day a vile man
And this man was not good, you see.
Yet, she mocked him, thinking herself to be a god.
And he threw her from a window.
He did not care.
And when they went to bury her,
She was consumed to the marrow
By dogs, who licked her bones,
And snarled when someone tried to take a bone
To bury.

I

In their galleys, rowed, Persian boats.
The great wars rowed in their ways,
Over the Mediterranean Sea.
Rome stood, weeping, their arms were small...
Nero had his kingdom
But wasted it on the games.
Thus, Darius rowed across the rivers.
For Cambyses II had been held in chains,
And the horse whinnied from the woods.
Thus, Darius rowed across,
After Cyrus and Caesar had their war.
Long the castles have been lost,
And Armageddon had waged its blood.
Thus, 1000 years later,
After Christ lay dead upon His Bier,
For old age had taken the gentle King,
His brother Arthur reigned in the Northern Lands,
And Nero had amassed a following.

The great war was to be had, of Gog and Magog,
Where Nero made the games a spectacle,
And all watched. Nero, he was Death,
Smerdis, we all knew, and he had for 1000 years
In great depression stewed for his loneliness,
And thus, took up to his great kingdom,
Reviving Romish might.
And there, Nero did what he would, 
Reviving death and murder,---
For for 1000 years, not a single man had ever been slain---
Teaching the peoples how to play.
How to do gross sexual things.
For, the bee stung him in the leg
And that was when it was all new.

II

Nero fiddled in the grotto, as Darius catapulted his weapons
Into the thatched roof of huts.
He fiddled, as Rome burned---
And he watched the circus, and told it to play.
He had murdered his mother,
And raped his sister,
And he had sullied many virgins.
He had a beautiful wife---three---
All of whom he kept their separate company.
And he blew on the Pan Pipe
After chasing one so much, that she died of grief.
And his wicked face glew with such haughty laughter.
Darius besieged Rome, and with his forces
Surrounding, did batter shields and said,
"We have been rid of Sin, and wish to have our LORD
"Revived! That good King Who ruled us and was ever wise!"

Nero fiddled, and smiled his way,
His canine teeth like that of a wolf.
He dressed in his attire,
And started flaying the Christians upon the spits
And he bit at them, and watched them burn
Using their bodies as torches.
He murdered all he could, and tossed their bodies into the sea.
And he committed necrophilia, and charged a fee
To be entertained by the most beautiful in the land.
If he ever visited a local store, they paid him;
He never paid a thing.

III

Darius surrounded Rome, to heave the Kingdom
Back to its righteous ways.
Thus, Nero unleashed his Chimera.
And it flew, and with his Pegasus
Nero knew the way the war would go.
Thus, the Chimera spat poison on the forces
Of Darius' hordes.
And they burned, and turned to phlegm,
Their pus and bodies like a pile of fungus
Slimy, and there they lay.
Darius was thrown back against the war.

Thus, he rowed across the sea,
Seeing how Nero caused the Lands of France
To riot in the night.
They tore down Lady Liberty,
And cried for great hailstones to fall.
Thus, they did.

Arthur, seeing the hordes amass at his border---
For the land was divided.
Nero the center, Darius the South
And Arthur held the northern realms.
Yet, there was also a king in Jerusalem,
Lonely as could be.

Mustered the forces of God and Magog,
Great Giants, which Nero consorted
From the lands beneath the Earth,
Where the daggers there protrude,
And the table of the Earth with the three mountains
"Hades, Hell and Sheol."
And thus, there the giants flung up,
And crawled upon the Earth,
And became Nero's hordes.

IV

Arthur and Darius were allied
And Jerusalem was so weak.
Nero cried for the war to fall into Jerusalem's borders
And thus he besieged the wall---
A mountain thrice the size of Everest
Inhabited by quiet folk,
Dotted in their wigwam huts,
And there Darius and Arthur merged down through 
Norway and Sweden and Finland, 
Into Arkhangel, Yaroslavl,
And then into Kharkov, Turkey and Syria,
And finally into Lebanon.
Arthur and Darius amassed a great army
To fight the hordes of giants
And down they came, marching in their steeds.
Darius and Arthur stood outside the mountain,
Which was tall, and had streaks of gold
Running through it in every acre.

The Chimera flung itself out,
And there, the war was fierce.
Chimera fought hard, and bloody,
The Pegasus was there, predicting the war
With with Nero upon its back.
Great was the war, the Giants were taller than the mountain itself...
They could barely fit on the Earth,
And they climbed upon the Earth's Circle,
And Arthur knew he was beat.
So did Darius.

At that moment they bowed, and cried,
And then were raptured.
And the Earth dissolved, along with the heavens.
And this world were forgotten.

1. The Merciful Man

He walked along the brush,
Feasting on the currants
Off the trees. His enemy
Sought to trap him, it's sure.
Yet, he mercifully moved his feet
And forgave: For why throttle
The man who stole, when you owe
Hundreds of Talents of Gold?
Thus, he prayed for mercy,
For a righteous man shall receiver her;
He who is merciful shall receive mercy
So the Beatitudes say:
And upon the path were a perfect fish
A bass, just recently died:
The heron stood on the pier
And probably dropped it in flight.
He picked up the fish, a trophy of a catch!
And threw it back into the pond.
For, it had died of its own
And was not lawful to eat.

2. The Tree of Life

Imagine if you would,
A Hickory Nut on the forest floor
With a little rotted piece
Concaved on its green husk.
And consider the vines
Beneath its shell, where the fruit
Once sat protected.
Now, imagine, this shape
Were designed by a logic
And that logic described perfectly
The physics of something else.
Or the logic that was used to solve it did.
Consider that Hickory Nut,
Its very shape like a curve
Its volume or surface area or a line within it was the logic
That would describe the very physics of something in our world.

Now consider, a formula that is as a tree
Shifting in time, a Date Palm,
Flowing in the wind.
It bends and flows;
Consider that tree, there
Swaying in the breeze
Is another form of logic,
Its very volume and motion
Used to describe an advanced form of physics.
Can you? Just for a moment?
Understand, it's like the tree of life.

3. Silence

Jerusalem, you whore, imperious:
Stay quiet, my love.
Write your thoughts,
But be as a mime and cheer people
With your love.
Just be quiet.
I am like Jerusalem. 

4. Holy Bias

I read, in 2004 even,
That Athanasius did not
Write the creed.
Yet, in St. Gregory's writing,
There is mention of him writing
Down such confession,
And giving it to an emperor.
Thus we can conclude,
That French monks
Wrote down the creed
By direction of the extant document,
And then canonized it.
Many things go unnoticed by scholars
Just like this: But that is the division needed,
And it is a Holy Bias.
For a little faith is necessary to hold all things.

5. They

I take my notes in verse, understand:
Creatively reflecting upon the hearts of man:
Spenser is barred from the canon
By angry children and college mammon.
"They" is not a conspiracy of the left;
It is what the markets want, and cleft
They do a trailblazed path...
All so all forget the past.

6. The Preacher

The preacher preached a sermon
On Marcus Aurelius. The Impasse
Is the way... you move it, you go over it
You climb under it, you go around it.
Then, he said, "With God there is a way,"
And, "The brethren say, but God says differently." 
Then he said there was work to be had everywhere...
The brethren say.
But God says differently. 

I walk the narrow path,
I see all things go against my favor.
Is failure sign of God's disapproval? 
I think the Thyatirans were poor
And so were the Anabaptists.
What the preacher worshipped was the economy.
His fortune, and you heard it in his voice.
I am a writer.
"The brethren say, but God says differently." 
Those were his words.

What is the true impasse?
Do I go under, over, around, through, move it?
They say, so it is,
"The brethren say, but God says differently."
They are like Lawyers, attaching burdens too thick to carry
And won't even lift it themselves.

I recall why there was a revolution fought,
In Hackcock's own words:
The British would not let commerce
Be had, for they would not suffer
A man his livelihood.
Who shall fight my revolution?
It is only mine in words.
You, preacher, can lift me up.
Or you can push me down.
I recall many martyrs who died
At the hands of idol shepherds.
"The brethren say, but God says differently."

I recall Christ crucified, 
I recall Jeremiah put in prison,
I recall John Bunyan in long imprisonment,
I recall Hans Brael whom the rats ate his food and his clothing rotted off his flesh.
I recall 3,000,000 killed by Spain,
11,000,000 killed by Rome,
And untold killed by the Orient, for records of such things aren't kept.
"The brethren say, but God says differently."

You have the power to unyoke me, and my captivity.
But, you rather strengthen it with falsehood.
"The brethren say, but God says differently."

7. 121 Martyrs a Day

Recall, during Rome, they played games with death.
It was to appease the gods, and Christians were the victims.
121 Martyrs a day, for 250 years, that is the number.
Believable, don't you think, now that you consider?
For if there were no victims, the gods got angry,
Therefore the blood must have been the oblation.
Across many territories, the games were played,
A country the size of our United States.

8. The Conversation of the Martyr

"There is no God, dude, it's all a lie." He shrieks with joy.
The martyr sits in silence,
"By the time you're finished, and the hell you create
"They'll cry out for God, and He will answer."

9. Dark Age

So few read, and it becomes 
The rite of the privileged.
They speak of demons:
I give you demons to read about.
No, not literal...
What they've always been.

10. The Daisy and Aster

The daffodil is
The first flower, in springtime;---
The aster is last:
The yellow nosed daffodil;
The aster a mauve daisy.

Springtime the yellow daffodil blooms first;
In the first days of fall, the aster, last.
The Phlox and Chicory still bloom; also
The Hardy Hibiscus. Yet I speak, so!
The wildflowers are nature's timepiece.

11. Work?

Work comes in different forms---
The bearded Country Man
Reads books, and tells his thoughts.
He gets paid. I listen to him.
But, I feel the judgmental
Glare of my Earthly sire
Over in the dining room.
"You are doing fake work."
No... I am not. I am listening
To a thousand voices
So mine can be well informed.
Someone must, or we'll all
Be ignorant.

12. We All Come to the Sacred Book

We all come to the sacred book;
Each of us carves out a sacred nook.
Wars are made, challenges accepted---
The liberal and conservative spar.
The Conservative reads his Transcendentalist;
The Liberal reads her Postmodernist;
The Doctor reads his Modernist;
The Lawyer reads his Historian;
Another lawyer her Best Seller;
The CEO reads his Philosopher;
The Economist reads his Capitalist;
The Rebel reads his Marxist;
The Philosopher reads his Logician;
The Feminist her Mythology;
The Christian his Theology;
The Muslim his Tafsir;
The Asian her Mystic;
The Hindu her Vedda;
The Atheist his Existentialist;
The Author his Sages.

This writer listens to them all
Like Mr. Whitman, able to believe.
Listen to all the different things
People say. And you shall gain
Some insight.
He thinks the smallest voice should have their say;
For all wisdom is bound in the many voices of history.
Not just the scholar, or the sage,
But the folk and the radical, too.

13. Hark!

The fool slips in through the cracks:
He repeats verbatim what you said back.
Oh! It is not in your own words, thou fool!
I know, how I know, thou art an unthinking tool!
Pry as you might, into my secret things:
Just think on them, that is all I wean.
The man said to me just the other day!
A story has truth, even though it is fay!
For hidden in the untruths of life
Hidden in its inexactitudes,
Is a fortune of gold, if you like:
You shall see all wisdom that is true
If you search for it, hidden in their clues.
Listen for the truth that wends their life;
What is it, let wisdom be thy wife.
Know, Jesus of Sirach said,
Business continued shall one day be made black from red.
For that is the secret to my wisdom it's true:
I listen to all, and even you.

14. Circular Logic

In straight lines we go,
Infinite chains of infinite causes.
No effect having being,
For to have being is circular.
Thus, no one knows.

15. White-breasted Nuthatch

I am small, don't you know?
Like a White-breasted Nuthatch.
I climb the tree, and eat the grub.
The oaks are dropping leaves and acorns
The currants are falling off the branch.
The walnuts are seen in the bare trees
Like green testicles.
I consider life---
How I go, to be free like the bird
In the wild, to meander here and there.
Free to eat, and do my work
For life is labor to eat,
But it doesn't have to consume every minute.
There is time for mating,
There is time for marrying,
There is time for games,
There is time for books,
There is time to simply fly
Hither and to, and to perch
Upon the tree, and pick my grub.
Strange how we make all things labor
When the bird is as free as I want to be:
Moving, and plucking the substance
When I feel I need it. Not being told when and how to move.

16. Consider

A careful naturalist knows
When something ultra rare happens.
Usually imperceptible to the novice.
The squirrel seen once a day
The Heron seen once a week,
The Bald Eagle is a once a year sight
But the White-breasted Nuthatch noticed once
In this author's lifetime, until now.
“It is either a wood thrush or woodpecker.”
Neither, yet we can say, “It is a thrush or nuthatch”.
If it is a nuthatch, then it is not a thrush.
If it is a baneberry, then it is not a currant.

17. Politics

Spain, England, Japan, Mexico or New Jersey
War there could erupt even after our 
Sacred Civil War.
And men spoke openly about it
Without fear.
Today, you may only whisper
For offense makes all silent.
Spies listen, and take notes,
Women are prisoner for a word.
Dangerous times: dangerous times.

18. No Consolations

The writer, with no wealth, sat
To read Philosophy's dark
Consolations. Yet, no word
On virtue appeared in the
Pages. The Writer was vexed
And cried a bitter, mournful
Curse, against the gods of the
Age, those heathen, vile men.
For no consolation was
Had. What is philosophy
Without virtue? It is words.

Thus, he sat again at night
And read his book, seeing it
All changed back to what it said
Before: he was pacified.
Yet, how he realized that all
Philosophy now, was like
It, stripped of all virtue, so
It 'twere just poetic words.
As painful as hell. Torture
Of a kind that very few
Will ever understand.
For if the library will
Forget virtue, every page
Might as well burn and nothing
Would be lost. Why read? Without
Virtue?

19. Pitbulls

Oh, Christians, you are like pitbulls.
Sweetest temperament of all dogs.
Full of life, and vivaciousness,
Yet, falsely given a proud name.
Yet, we have the strongest bite
And when we latch onto Satan
We do not let go, and shake
Our Jowls. Yet, weaker
We get kicked, though we 
Will not let go.

20. The Dictator and the Sage

The dictator saw the Sage, and then he said,
"Tell me, the sage wisdom."
So the Sage said, "In war, kill your enemy quick.
"And only wage war, when a country deserves
"To have its children slaughtered."
The dictator, feigning rage,
Cried out, "Such is unlawful!"
The Sage then said,
"Lawful speech I have, to say you are an evil wretch."
The dictator then cried,
"I shall come and kill you, and make it quick.
"I will not torture you, just kill you quick."
To which the Sage said, 
"So come, and bring all you have."
The dictator did not come;
Where was he? The enemy was turned
To the sea, and their stink raised up
Before all the land.

21. I Don't Know What We Fight For

I sit and drink and eat:
Herodotus is changed.
Lacy is changed.
But history is not changed.
I know not what we fight for
Or the reason we fight.
Perhaps, it is to have a correct
Account of history and science and law.
Or, it is to make a billionaire richer.
Nobody knows.

22. 21st Century Hitler?

There was once a quiet boy, who played with vacuum tubes
And swung them in his basement, making worlds.
He was very beautiful, with chestnut curls, 
And he made mistakes, yes, quite a few.
He once came upon Athena one day,
While carrying on his daily chores.
A writer he was, and a writer he'd be
Yet Athena wanted him lured
Into his van, of candy and treats
He came upon him one day.
Thus, Athena made a plan so grand
He chose not to make this boy elite.
Thus, the boy wrote his songs,
And wrote his stories for himself.
The people all saw it, now,
And thought, "Aww, for bloody hell."
Thus, they rioted and called him wrong
And cried out for his very songs.
They destroyed free speech, and burnt the moors
Petulant children all called him wrong.
He didn't know, save in his vision---
He just was poor, but with fruitful mind.
They called him the next Hitler,
But all he did was purge his mind.
Thus the people all waged war,
Two wars were fought for the law
That this poor man had it all...
But a poor boy he was, with fifteen dollars
He simply wrote his stories for himself.
So the people cried, and they wanted him found
They cried ever so loud.
They cried, and fought, and blood spilled through every valley.
"This boy shall not be a man!"
They cried out in pain, and thus they were well pleased.
All so this boy wouldn't write his odes
All so he wouldn't sell his stories,
Now let us understand.
Was he Hitler, or did he sing
For the freedom of his Land?
Was he concerned with what the world did;
Was he even like a feral beast?
Or did he just quietly do his task
And learned what he could
Before it disappeared in ash,
Ash to ashes was the wood
On every paper that printed ink:
Thus all worlds were changed.
Was he really a bad man at all
Or was he really that insane?

23. The Faerie Wedding

The napkins were velvet,
Bound by strings of pearls
With diamonds sparkling in gold inlay.
The plates porcelain and crystal with gold leaf.
The cutlery vermeil, and supped
On figs, and grapes, and strawberries,
Smoked Salmon and Salami.
Two Eagles, a mating pair
Flew over the feast,
And a mockingbird sung in a cedar.
The children wore their brooch in hair
With diamond crust; the maidens in their silk dress.
The Fairy King, jovial, alighted on every table
To light the incense and off he flew in his three piece suit.
The tea kettle a silver pot, with golden legs...
Ambrosia, nectar, fruits of life.
The fae people, when finished with their meal
Tossed their plates into pits,
Where there, a rainbow fire
Sparkled, and consumed.

24. The World Rejoices

"As long as Locusts and Harsh Winters,"
Said I, thePoet, "Exist, this world shan't
"Ever be paradise. Thus, we are reminded
"When the Sage asks, 'Why does 
"'A Good God allow Suffering?'
"I retort, 'While the world rejoices
"'Behind me for but a short while,
"''One acre of Heaven's Fields
"'Shall be more treasure
"'Than the whole Earth's.'
"Thus why should I be sad?
"When I have treasure enough?
"Therefore, heart, sorrow no more."

25. The Election

One year, I voted for the Father Son and Holy Spirit
In an Outcry to fix our country.
Then, a miraculous thing happened,
The LORD Opened up to me wisdom:
"Research each candidate."
Thus, my vote was answered,
To go through each candidate on a ticket
And research their programs.
No matter how small the position,
Do your research.

26. Beowulf to Galahad

Lo, take up the harp and lyre,
Sir Galahad, to fend the evil Moor.
To silence the Golems at this hour
To fight against Babylonian whore.
For we two, off on our crusade
In pen and ink and might
Sing, oh we sing, and together we shall fight.
Remember I, and sing your odes
Original and the best...
All is all, and time is time,
Sing for Jesus and both our rest.

27. Home

I sit and rest, for home is here
Not yonder and far away.
Nowhere do I need to be
But here.

Like a dream it is, when far away
And in decadent abodes.
No, my modest home
Is here.

When in exotic places
With great treasures
For eyes to feast.
Home's there.

For I come back,
And rest my bones
And like a dream awake.
I'm here.

28. Thanks and Grace

Upon the trail,
The leaves are embers,
The walnuts and acorns fallen;
The leaves smell like bourbon,
And I thank You God,
For my life.

I am like heaven's journalist,
In my poverty,
A monk in a cloister,
And enjoying my rich foods...
I shall eat the finest of the grain and flour.

And here I tell of Antichrist,
A man as wise as Emerson or Montaigne,
As beautiful as James Dean and looks like 
Marcus Junius Brutus:
His religion the Greek Gods, and only as forces of the Earth;
And like Julius Caesar, can forge Fortune;
He can pick the lock.
For in the German Fairy Tale,
A chest is searched for, then it is found, and a key is forged.

And I thank God, that in a chess match
He would flank me on my King's Side;
The battle would be fierce, 
Many casualties in the war.
And there, we'd draw in threefold repetition.
For that is all I could do.
To win, would give me the world
To lose, to be given to torments.

Thus, I thank the LORD,
For all his rich kindness toward me.
I have my faith, I have my friends and family,
I have my allies, I have my food and drink.
And, I have my work, this heavenly journalism
Telling of the Heavenly Politics of our day.

29. The Eyes and Ears

The eyes form our reality,
Something like a digital recording.
Imperfect, and reconstructed.
Yet the ears, the blood scratches
Into our brain like a Vinyl Record.
Therefore, ears, I say, are a sensory organ
Greater than the eyes. For one 
Is merely code, the other is the scratches.
Therefore, faith comes by hearing...

I hear upon the path the world
And there is the world, in sound:
What we hear. Not what we see.
For hearing constructs our reality.
It is a funny looking organ,
And for right reason.
The dog it is nose and tongue,
The eagle it is eye,
The human it is ear,
The worm it is skin.

For the greater disability in life
Is not to be blind,
But rather to be deaf.
For the blind can still hear
And thereby attain company.
The deaf, though...
They live without even words of thought.

 30. Walking Through a Fairy World

A fairy world alighted---
'tis in your very yard---
The hare, not a rabbit,
Stood up, when I called.
It listened, and its tiny ears!
It wiggled its good nose.
'twas a beautiful thing
A truly beautiful thing
Not everyone would know.

Then, upon the park,
The angle shade was there,
That caterpillar crawled,
And that I had to share.
An alien thing it seemed,
Just like the hare,
So different, and unique
Yet it was the way of wear.

Then the squirrel,
Was talking in the trees
It cried, how it cried
And my dad, like it disturbed me
Saw it for the first time
And it caused my dad to fear,
The squirrels cry from their knots
I have seen it twice a month for years.

Then, alas, the climax of my walk,
Four mule deer, a herd
Crossed my leafy path.
My dad had looked for bluebirds
When he looked beyond his back
But, there, four females and a fawn
Rustled the leaves in their tracks.

It was like an ancient world,
So fairy and so fae,
It was beautiful, so beautiful,
This walk I took today.

31. Life

Life is a tic-tac
If heaven is every meal.
Your first, forgotten.

Life is like a bad
Dream that you wake from. It is
Forgotten someday.

32. Mock Strawberry

Late October, I walk
And see, yes I see,
'tis a Mock Strawberry.
I reach to touch it
Plump and round,
But do not eat it
As I walk in town.
For, it a noxious weed could be
For 'tis not June nor May
You see.

33. The Hero

The Slob is the form of our forlorn fate...
For he has been forged in the fires of favor
In the eyes of the fevered masses.
A wart is easier than a flower
To gaze at long, for there is no hope.
It is easier to give up, and not long...
To give into lascivious pleasure.
Does one need to be a millionaire?
Or can one be a simple Master
Smithing in iron and welds.
Making a Master's purse,
Modest, and nourishing?
Does great riches or great poverty
Follow from expertise?
Or can a middle class fortune arise?
For, it is either the slob,
Or the King, there is no middle...
No, that is what they have told us.

34. Arthur and the Romans

I

The War of Briton with Rome,
Arthur, thy Gauntlets are thrown.
For, Germans ride into the war,
Against Julius, that awful whore.
Fight, Oh Arthur, against Roman band!
Fight, and win, so all will understand.
War, oh Albion, against Romish might.
Julius has lost against us in this fight.

II

Theodoric, you enter Rome.
In your glimmering array,
You put the Senate under chains.
Sweet Boethius, like me,
Cries at the destitution of democracy.
And into the prison he goes:
Yet, Rome was conquered by you
When you spared Christians in Cloisters.

35. Mountain Drive

Upon the mountain's way,
Through Clark's Valley lay
The reservoir to my right...
The trees like a prism,
Pink, red, orange, yellow, green.
We stopped at a Diner,
With 1950s Music playing.
Yet, the people, nay, the people,
Were like none from that time.
Artefacts of a rich time
Were upon the wall in black and white.
Yet, there was a newness there...
Something new, yet was it right?
The woman sent me away,
After paying our customer fee...
She said have a catholic day,
Yet, the cost was a little costly.
$16.57 a plate you see.
The preacher on the way home
While I listened in the car,
From getting my good tea
I wandered very far.
Three hours we drove,
To see the autumnal leaves.
Yet, the preacher preached
"Beelzebub is a better god than unbelief."
I saw then, as I drove from my work.
Witnessing all, I saw it from mountain to brook.
For two people at a diner,
$17.07 a plate, that was what it took.
I question, the people are very queer...
Hard faces, all at war,
Yet there are some who are good.
We huddle together, as little chicks in a nest.
Mother Hen, come shield us with your best.
4 hours I witnessed, as cars drove madly wrong,
Passing us in the left lane,
Where the divider line was long.
My mind goes back to the preacher,
Saying, "Beelzebub is better than unbelief."
I think of the radical Atheist, and I think of even me.
Would I rather them believe in nothing?
Than a god of torture, theft and crime?
Certainly, so I feel it is the times.

36. The Philosopher

The philosopher, poet, logician,
Theologian, said of his work:
"I have made a mythology of myself;
"I have fully grasped the fundamentals well.
"Math, Logic, Science, God's Law
"I do know."

There came a Romish Priest, 
Who coveted the wisdom.
Thus, he pointed at him,
And cried, "Heretic!
"Demoniac! Feckless fool!"
And thus he cried.

He took the Philosopher,
And put him in chains.
And said, "Demonic man
"You have wisdom beyond
"What you can grasp.
"Demonic mind."

The Philosopher explained,
"Day and night, for 5 hours
"Every day and night, since a babe;
"I studied every subject I could.
"If I have a memory, there it is.
"I am sorry, if I combine things
"Though force of logic."

The Priest cried, "He said enough!
"The man is a Wicked sloth!"
Thus, he threw holy water on him
And kept him bound in wool
Restraints. The philosopher dulled
And his memory started to fade.
He forgot everything.

They took him out of his chains
One day, and the Priest was old
And so was the Philosopher.
The Philosopher's blue eyes
Were blank, and stared.
He did not answer
A word.

The Priest said, "The demon
"Has left him! We are freed!"
Thus, all the Philosopher's
Work belonged to the priest,
So he became a rich man.
The Prophet were poor
Until he died.

Another priest, an exorcist too,
Came to the Philosopher
And said, "I knew you.
"You were a truly righteous son."
Thus, he looked with fiery eyes
At the other priest and cried,
"Demon!"

And thus, they bound the other priest
And put him in a dark cell.
And he was forgotten, his wisdom too,
Yet so was the philosopher's they said.
The Philosopher was brought to the parish
And nuns fed him curds and honey.
He died poor, yet in comfort.

37. Curse of the Sloth

Once Upon a Time, there was a poet.
He was a sloth, and held his job,
But wanted to be rich.
Thus, he wrote his poems
To have the wealth enough
To have an orgy every day.

There was another poet,
He was meek, and could do intellectual work.
He wanted to have enough wealth
To write his poems,
And to have enough wealth
To maintain a wife and children.

The slothful poet, though,
Was published first,
And the publishers didn't want him,
But from his annoyance, they sighed and said,
"If you truly want this,
"The greatest poet in the world
"Will have to fail. He will be put in prison
"And tortured to death.
"For the world will be lost
"For it has lost his reason."

The Sloth sighed, and said,
"I don't care about him.
"Let him rot."
Thus, the Sloth was made a millionaire
And ate and drank, and had sex to his heart's content.

The other poet, became a master,
But, his songs were denied.
Thus, the whole world turned good art for bad
And bad art for good,
And thus, the master poet
Was told, "You're dishonest
"And not as smart as you claim.
"Therefore, into the dungeon,
"You prideful man!"
And so they did,
Where they drew and quartered him
And kept him barely alive
For 30 years.

That is modern day's morality.

38. A Preacher is a Craftsman

A preacher is a craftsman 
Who cuts a straight line.
He builds with his gems and gold
And lays foundations of diamond.
He lays his brick,
And planes them straight.
He makes a cathedral
Of wisdom chaste.
A preacher is a craftsman
And if his compass is off
The foundation comes undone
And that foundation is true love.
For, if a preacher does not plane
And scale and build with rose;
The cathedral comes crashing down
And now everyone shall know.
Yet, the liar comes to him
And says,"Your gold is all chaff."
They put the preacher into prison
And say he is a man, who is bad.
Yet, the preacher still lays his foundation
And the preacher still planes true.
The preacher is a craftsman,
And the preacher will teach you.

39. American Politics

Jason Galanis was partnered with Hunter Biden.
Trump pardons Galanis.
These folk run in tight circles.
Now we know.
It is just about making money...
If Saving America makes more money
And makes a better bottom line,
Then it will be done.
If not, then it won't.
And money backs up money,
And hedges them against money.
If it will make them rich,
They'll do it.
That is their only Ally.
Is Green.

40. The Good Shepherd

She, like Christ, finds the Sheep
In the slough: it's neck deep.
She grabs its horns and pulls
Dragging it up the knoll.
With every fiber she 
Pulls with her might. The Sheep
Ought not fight. For to fight
Would trap her in its plight.
And then she drags the sheep
To the nearby, quick stream,
And in autumnal cold
She bathes the sheep, while clothed.
Then, she drags the sheep more
Atop the green pasture.
And there she lays to rest
With the sheep, by its head.
Some of her blood stains it:
That's the price to save it.

41. The Philosopher

There was a philosopher who failed,
And preached, in Christian times,
That God was dead, and virtue
Was simply to make your bed.
Sup, eat, be free... like a rabbit upon the plain.
The wolf chases, and the rabbit runs.
The predator stalks the prey,
And the prey eats the grass.
And the prey, if the predator is stronger
Is their food. Thus, is how the world is.
The philosopher failed, when he saw a horse
Being tamed by its rider.
He threw his hands over the horse,
And cried, "I understand you."
Thus, he became catatonic in his defeat.
Thus, they raised him to a Christlike figure
And said, "See what happens when a man
"Cannot be strong? What the weak will do to him?"

There was a philosopher who failed,
And preached in Antichristian times.
That God was alive, and virtue
Was to be charitable and kind.
Sup, eat, but remember, the sheep
In the pen needs shorn, and his nails
Need cut, and he is fed on your love.
Love the little lamb, and life
Will not be so hard. Be gentle
And meek, and pull the milk
From her teats, and drink.
For it is your lamb, your life depends
On her. Be kind, and clean her pen.
The philosopher failed, when the government,
They forbade him to work and create.
Thus, they put him in a dark cell
And said, "See what happens when a man
"Cannot be strong? What we will do to him?"

42. The American Revolution

There was a poet of America,
He wrote his poems.
It was his plan
To write his poems
And become a wealthy man.
For, to work would be costly
And accumulate great debts.
It would mean, not a moment's rest.

Thus, he wrote his poems,
And for 5 hours a day he studied.
He wrote epics, novels, trilogies,
And he studied logic, music and geometry.
He studied history and the great men
And he studied Literary Masters again.
Sufficient, he became proficient at his craft.

Yet, America was wroth that they worked
Too long, and too hard. Thus, the refused
To purchase his work, and rather 
Went to war... for there was no rest.
They wanted to destroy free speech
And leisure, and therefore, force all into slavery.
For they were in bonds, therefore,
So must everyone be bonded.

The Sheriffs felt too, that this was the way
Yet, they in great leisure, were amateur philosophers.
Bringing into captivity,
And being the spokesmen of the war.
They thought they were on the working class' side,
And thus, tormented the poet cruelly.
They changed  his world, and thought nothing of it.

Thus, the people warred. Bloody it was.
And it was all so all could be in chains
And in slavery. For speech, they warred against.
And thus, they warred, so there would be no freedom
And the only freedom would be to eat.
Until, one day, they couldn't even do that,
As the poet warned... without free speech
There would be no warning.
Those in power could do all they want.

Thus, the supply chains were broken,
The grocery stores were cheap, but barren.
The poet sat in his house, with ten others
Who were sheltered there,
And  they died  each, and rotted upon the floor.
And a great stink rose from that house,
And his uncle came, and said, "Do not talk of God anymore."
For, that was what the war was about.
Simply freedom... they wanted it to go away.

The poet became a slave,
And barred his back to the sheriff.
And they whipped him, and gashed him,
And even the ones who were the belligerents understood...
The poet was right all along.
"We fought to clasp back on our irons,
"And we enslaved the one man who wanted to liberate us."

43. Honor

"Honor doesn't fit a fool."
I turn the proverb in my head.
On one hand, it means
A fool who does dishonorable things
In the name of honor.
But, on the other, it means a dishonorable man
Who feels honor is not fitting.

44. Atlas Shrugged

She says what she thinks.
It's all I can say, we all have them.
Unflattering, untrue, unwise opinons and beliefs.
Yet, the lynch mobs come out to strangle her.
Ashes in the wind, cabbage and everyone is okay.
I wonder, yes I wonder,
When it is I who will be on the line?
Free speech has died.
Work, eat, pray... no time for the arts.
Nobody really knows...
Thus, Atlas Shrugged...
And out came the pouring of Capitalism.
The smith no longer has coals
The carpenter no longer has wood
The poet can be crucified for his words.
It is not something we can name that easily.
It is just... what it is.

45. Safe?

There are poisons in every bush...
Mushrooms, Belladonna, Holly---
There are knives in every kitchen.
There are fists and rocks and sticks.
There are murderous thoughts in everyone.
There are pillows, and blankets, and forks.
There are oceans, and lakes, and rivers.
There are cars, and planes, and trains.

What causes us to be safe?
It is trust in our fellow man.

Thus, also with the market,
If we all are greedy, and want
All we can gather for ourselves---
If we are the hunter as one said,
Who stalks the prey, and brings
Home the game, and says to the Medicine Man
"Your dances, and tales, and cave paintings
"Are of no use to us, old man."

Then, understand...
The Old Medicine Man's job
The Storyteller
The Poet
The Philosopher
The Judge
Is to teach men the dangers
And to show them peace.

For a mushroom blooms,
It can kill you dead.
You need the Medicine Man
To see the more subtle poisons
For that is his business
Is to identify them
And caution us when we're ignorant...

For if we pluck the toadstool
From the yard, and sell it
To our brother, we are a murderer.
If we take the gleanings from the neighbor's bush
Collected in the bucket,
Then we are a thief.
If we yield to our passions
And pluck the virgin's maidenhood
We are an adulterer.
And subtler poisons than these...
If we make it so man can have no labor
Save the one who is approved by the hunter,
Then the Gatherer, then the Dancer,
Then the Poet, then the Scribe,
Will have no occupation.

And if so... understand,
There will be suffering.

46. Decree

Jesus the King, decrees 
In Revelation.
The same as Darius might.
It is unclear what Bible Scholars mean...
Yet, all of God's book must be witnessed by us.
Through influence of the Spirit,
We craft, and find knowledge.
Through listening, we are inspired.
Every one of us... if we listen.
Why ought it not come from us?
Why ought we not witness?
If God is real, He is real...
We ought to see Him,
And write our witness of Him.
Some of the Seven Churches are Sinning,
So John becomes the Oracle.
For we know, and interpret...
That is how it works.
Without our eyes seeing,
Without our ears hearing,
Without our blood, sweat and tears,
Without our minds' reason,
There could be no witness at all.
If God merely told us all of it
Then it wouldn't be real.
It must, as Christ told me,
Be processed through us
For then we have sensed it.
And we have recorded what we sensed.

47. The Shepherd

What is, is sometimes a beast,
And, you must take the staff
And fight it. The sheep graze
They know not.

What is, is sometimes a thief,
And you must take the law
And jail her. The sheep  graze
They know not.

What is, is sometimes a pit,
And you must take  the horns
And pull it. The sheep graze,
They know not.

What is, is sometimes a man,
And you must take the staff
And fight him. The sheep graze
They know not.

If you are torn by the beast,
You are made poor by the thief,
You fall into the pit with the sheep,
Or the man is much stronger,
Still, work.

For the sheep need you.

48. The Atheist

The atheist, who was my friend in spirit
Saw Christians floundering for answers.
All of us were wrong, and invented.
And then, "Did Jesus go to hell?"
Cemented in two, of the three creeds...
Christians formulate that the answer is no.
There was such a face of confusion on
His handsome brow, and I laughed along.
We really don't know much these days.
But, for those of us who do---and some
Of us still do---we comprise a unique
Section of the population.
We still remember, though are drowned
Out by the noise.

Like the foolish virgins, they go to the world
And pour their oil into the cup.
They pour in prosperity, vanity,
Toil, and mating.
The wise virgins have trimmed their lamp
With memories. Of what the religion is.
It still is... of course.
But, we need to remember now.
Satan wants us occupied with this life
Here and now.
He wants the memory erased for good.

49. The Poet and the Tyrant

A great tyrant ruled, and said,
"If a man accomplishes his dream
"Then all will want to.
"We need the common laborer."
There was a poet, who understood much.
He crafted in his Words like a smith
And precisely found all wisdom.
The Tyrant then was jealous---
Being slothful, and not wanting to read
He merely wanted to campaign
And find more support for himself.
Thus, the Poet understood,
And had memory of a lost time.
The Tyrant then changed the very books
He was reading, to dull the poet's mind.
But, the Poet used force of logic
To overpower even the dullness...
For his mind tasted the words
And could detect even the slightest falsehood.

The Tyrant raged, and said,
"The most well fed in the village
"Is the hunter you fool!"
The poet smiled, and said,
"Then you do not know about the medicine man?
"How they collect the ancient memories
"And paint upon the walls?
“They instruct the dances around the fire?
"How they discreetly teach their friends
"How to judge rightly?"
The Tyrant screamed,
"No! The hunter will be paid!"
And the Poet said,
"Yet, the Hunter will even
"Steal the gatherings from his weaker brother.
"Thus, the poet must teach why this causes dearth."

The Tyrant then took the Poet, and used his craft
To cause him to get sick. 
Thus, the poet was sick, and near death...
And his mind was altered by the Tyrant's curses---
For the Tyrant employed theurgy
Employing Seraphim to weaken his heart and mind.
Thus, he oppressed the poor Poet severely.
For, all must work, so the Tyrant would
Prosper in his craft, and steal the Poet's profits,
And become rich. And he would use cosmetics
Upon his skin, and masks of mud,
And he would found cities with bloodshed...
For he was a great Tyrant, and caused
All the cities of the Earth to be built
With blood. Their bodies upon the street.
He entered into the kingdom, and killed.

The Poet was there, upon the sheath,
Writing his songs. And he prospered nothing,
For the Tyrant was black, and wished
Him to labor hard, and gruel.
For the Tyrant could be a sloth
And therefore, rule over many worlds
And feel that reading were beneath him.
He could rule. For, a Leader of a Land
Must read at least 50 pages a day twice;
He must listen to his counselors
Speak. He must understand the laws.
He must talk with foreign dignitaries.
He must talk with his generals.
He must take account of history.
He must hide nothing from his people.
This the Tyrant did none of.
Thus, he took the Poet
Who felt great pains in his skin---
For the demons made him pained---
And the Tyrant laughed,
And felt he was winning.

The poet was then taken to a cell
Where no sight nor sound could penetrate.
He was given potions to increase his suffering
And make him severely addicted, so he would be easier to control.
And he was thrown into it,
And his entire work was burned.
Every word he wrote, was destroyed---
Or rewritten by the Tyrant.
And the poet sat in there
And he lost all his memories.
He was then Tabula Rasa
And when he came out,
The Tyrant saw his intelligence
And retaught him everything,
Teaching him evil arts.
And the poet was beautiful,
And thus, with his memories washed,
He became a great general
And became the Tyrant's weapon
And all warfare was turned
To the Tyrant.
And the Poet, whose only desire
Was to be a righteous man,
With a wife, children, and good dainties to eat
Portions of flesh, fruits and spices;
Milk, tea and water;
A bed to lay in that was comfort,
And a small house to cover him.
This was stolen, and the Poet
Was now a homosexual,
And he had a mansion,
And instead of eating injected himself with vitamins. 
And this is the torment he spread.
Upon who, has not your evil passed over continually? 

50. The Giant's Sword

Preacher, preach on the Good Samaritan
One of the best of preachers in the land.
Yet, you hear his voice crack as he preaches.
For there is action in our religion.
And David takes Goliath's sword, to fight.
And because he trusts in the weapon's might
He is made powerless, and must slobber
And act like a madman to, thus, survive.
Yet, what can we do if a man, wounded
Lay upon the ground? We can call on the
Medic to come, and pick him up. Yet then
The man incurs great debts if he is poor.
To take up the sword would make desert lands.
I ponder on the future, as I do---
Will it be good or bad? I don't know which.
I simply know the times right now and say,
"We can foretell by our current ways, that
"The future will be weird and deserted."
For, the victim is periled by restored 
Health, and the sword too efficient to kill.
Thus, I seem mad---as David did---babble
About unknown futures... they must be true
For they caught the ear of someone high up.
For, I revealed that we all lay wounded
By the vice of the World, and are poor.
And I, with my Giant's Sword, seem as mad
And thus, my foreboding's simply music,
"Meekness makes us incapacitated:
"We couldn't help, even if we wanted."

51. Thanatos and Eros

Oh, Thanatos, you're in my breast
And with a sabre drawn, you fight
Eros with all your might.
The desire to die or live,
It wells in my heart,
And wars within me.
I do not know which will win.
On one hand, I want life abundantly,
But on the other, I fear to live and suffer.
I do not know.
Yet, they fight,
Their sabres drawn
And in cloth vestments,
They draw blood against each other.
Swords crossed, glate, spark,
Steel clash, they cut
And draw wounds one against another.
My heart lay slain,
Hoping for Eros to slay Thanatos...
For if Thanatos dies,
Then I shall live.
But, if Eros is cut across the breast
And he dies... I shall die.

51. The Fall of Rome

To keep account, my brothers, the fall of Rome.
First, after Augustus took Rome, Tiberius began
To make the laws slack, and thus sentenced
An Apple Tree, and Crucified God.
Then, Nero was violent, and for 300 years,
Christians were put to death,
121 Martyred a day, by the games or by public trial.
Then, Diocletian split the empire, 
And then there was Civil War,
Until Constantine made one empire again
And established Christianity as a whole
And legitimized the Christian  faith.
Thus, what happened next, 
Julian the Apostate made Paganism the rule
But the people would prefer the peace of Christ.
Then Theodosius was the last Great king over both East and West
Then, the kingdom divided between East and West.
And in the West, Germans sacked Rome
And gained access to the Kingdom,
Ostrogoths, Goths, Visigoths, 
Vandals, Suebii, and others.
Until Theodoric the Great ruled, and took the Empire
Putting the Polymath Boethius to death
And disestablished the Senate.
And thus, the Germans had the Western Empire.
And these tribes dispersed, and formed into separate kingdoms
Becoming what is modern day Europe,
Ruled by the Catholic Church and their kings.
The East was ruled in Constantinople,
And was ruled fairly, until the Turks
Won Constantinople, and turned it into Istanbul.

52. Epitaph for Nietzsche:

How your morals make hell
My friend, when all are Ubermensch.
Like the prison yard and bell
It rings, and they fight for fried chicken.
They take your property
And they make you sue...
All are in the yard it's true.

53. Random Poem

To fail being the best,
It is the way of the world.
For, the Lesbian must win---
Let the wookie with her shaggy hair
Let her win, or she'll pull the arms
Out of the Robot's socket.
Sculpt Pieta, you lose.
Throw shit against a wall, 
You win.
String together random thoughts---
Make sure they don't make sense.
Babe dies,
Lesbian, and you killed her.

54. Utopia?

Can Utopia exist?
The more I see,
The more I'm convinced it cannot.
Men work to build their vision---
And when the vision is accomplished
All are frustrated.
They are sociopaths.
For, it is in the nature of the world
That the cat chases the mouse
The fox chases the squirrel
Humans are not much different.
And I see the only valid solution
Is for God to change us from within.

55. The Holy Race War

I love blacks.
I love whites.
Yet, the viking and zulu
War on the battlefield.
Both primitive.

The Christian,
The Ethiopian and German
Sit back, and try to put out the fire.
Our Cathedrals are set on fire,
Our laws are dismissed.
Judgment proceeds from
The basest members.

My verse has no music...
It is rather philosophy...
The sting of aphoristic wisdom.
For the drum of war beats...
And I try to put meaning to it.
Like a ring bearer.
Like my beat of a different drum to the lovefeast.

56. The Poet King

There was a poet who wrote his hymns
For himself. If others would understand
And learn from him the mysteries
They would learn them, and be satisfied
With his wisdom. Yet, the peoples
Were divided, on one side were the 
Whites and Asians, and the other 
The Blacks and Middle Eastern.
The poet sung, and both sides
Found respite in his work.
Thus, they forcibly took him
Away from his work, and set a throne
Before a great battlefield,
And said, "We both accept
"Your work, but we cannot
"Stand the other. You shall rule over us
"And we shall fight here, and slay
"The other to the last."
Thus they did, and both warred fantastically
And the poet wept, for he didn't want this.
Yet, Beelzebub came behind him
And as the poet wept, he looked
At the red Satyr, fierce and warlike.
The Poet said, "Alas, this is not my world
"You take it, and make it so I never had it."

©2026 B. K. Neifert
All Rights Reserved

Fruitful Years: 

Of Theodore Marmaduke
The Odes of Ferguson
A Tale of Seven Kings
The Myth of Subang
A Meditation on Keat's Fall of Hyperion 
Transubstantiation
The Muse of the Arabica
The American God
The Children's Crusade
Prince Absalom
O Pilidod Grass, Spread 'pon the Breadth of the Mountain Valleys
Erin O'Conner
The Flying Dutchman and the St. Brier
The Love of Ellavine
The Ballad of Maddok
A Body of Evidence
What I've Seen of Love
Four Musings on Evolution and the Bible
Autobiographical Pieces
Jack Rogers

Storyhouse:

The Odes of St. Clause
Heaven's Imaginings
The City of God
The Jude Play
The Psalter of the Broom
Tall Tales

The Wisdom of B. K. Neifert:

Collected Maxims
Hyper Modernity
Meditations on Logos
The Little Book of What I Believe
My Politics
Laws of Wisdom---an Essay
A Complete Analysis of Paradise Lost
Visual Demonstrations of Basic Math Concepts

My Collected Writing Collections:

Utopia: A World Without Us
The American Civil War 
The Elf in Manhattan 
The Most Bitter Thought
The Jude Responses
The Tragedy of Joan of Arc
The Ascent of Death
The Jet Car
Man and Wo
Artemis XX 
The Third Reich
Ayin and Athrin
Cyrus Versus Caesar Battle Royal
The 90s
My Best Short Stories
Haikus
Songs
Nature's Portraits

Bread of Harvest:

The Master Key: The Orb of Fortuna and Wine of Kairos
The Prose Mythos
Anthem Louise Alcott

Flirtations with A'te:

Why I'm a Christian
Prose Poems
Animal Fables
Nature's Symbols (A Year's Worth of Nature Poetry)
A Collection of Some of My Best Poems (2017 - 2025)
Some Writings From When I Was Still in High School (2004 - 2007)
Il Tema
L'Antitema

Young Shadows:

The Odes of Brittos

Fairyland:

Prester John
Hymn of the Dark Crusade

The Chicory's Root:

Confessions
The Psalter of the Fig
Lives of the Apostles
Thalaba the Destroyer
Satires
Common Sense
Autobiographies
Some Essays on Math (Riemann Hypothesis, P Versus NP, Euler's Identity, Calculus, etc.)
Thus Spake a Nobody


Purchase a Copy of My Books Here 

https://www.amazon.com/author/broomcrownnewpeace

I scored Advanced at Reading and Writing

1. The Rummage Sale

I walk into the Church's sale,
And I sense a lie surrounds me.
Like I am in the presence of seven demons.
To tell the truth, I feel this way,
That there is a lie in the air...
It feels like fire burns through my chest
And a deep depression of hellish sorrows.
Note, when I walk into a Cathedral, 
I ought to feel peace
And the smell of woods and pine.
As a friend once said there should be church dust
And there should be peaceful wine.
But something dark lurks there
I do not know what.

2. The Battle Cry

Through the river, of Zion's shores,
I see the mountain God adores;
Twelve Thousand Furlongs raised to the sky
With golden streets, so I'll be wise.

I see the Nations gathered for war.
I put my armor on, and God has warned
That to flinch in battle, I'll be slain,
Thus I hold to my faith, without feign:

I thrust my spear of the Bible's Word,
I hold my faithful shield and am cured...
My battle is not with you outside,
It is within me, of powers wild.

So, I wrestle the prince I knew
Who holds to darkness, and never few
Are his lies, which in my ears
Makes subtle curses and tells me to fear.

He says to me, "Holiness is sin,"
And he says, "Righteousness won't win."
Thus the stars fall, and at the battle cry
I oil my shield, and so am wise.

On the bloody day, I shall be hid,
When the trumpets blast, and God will win:
My heart and soul and my righteous deed
Shall cleave to Christ for eternity.

3. A Thought

Watching her set fire to her home,
And sit and read silently as it burned...
And seeing myself driven to madness once...
I realize there are many weird things in this world.
It is best not to think of them too often.
The Levite's Concubine was raped, murdered, and mutilated...
Then her mutilated corpse was mailed all over the country...
Let that be enough to dwell on of the world's evil,
Or as Jesus said, "The tower fell, and Pilate mingled human blood in the sacrifice.
"Were these any more wicked?"
Let not your mind imagine too much wickedness.
For there are many strange things in this world...
Too many to count.

4. The Grackle and Cardinal

The Grackle and the Cardinal fought
Upon the bough, the Cardinal in 
The sweetest plumage, red crest bright,
A florescent paint. The Grackle
Pearlescent black, purple, green.
I consider Democracy;
The Poet and Priest fight for wise
Thoughts and sayings, to sway mankind.
Yet, the people almost always
In their decadence, elect those
Who will agree upon the worst
Thoughts and decrees. Thus, both birds flee
To another place, where safely
They flit upon the boughs again.

5. The Thing I Do Not Want

The feminist at my daughter's bedside
While she is in the ER, telling me
To my face, that I, in my panic,
Scare her. I might say these words to her,
"Your whole race should be back in the tent
"And not allowed to associate with anyone
"If this is how you behave
"When my little one is sick."
Both things are what I don't want.
So love a little better. So I don't have to be bitter anymore
And say things I don't really mean.

6. The Wildfire, July 16th, 2026

A wasp stings my calf;
I put baking-soda paste on.
The sting disappears.
I see a deer in the woods.
We look at one another.

The smoke looks like smog.
It smells like a wood.
It dims the sun to
The color it makes
At sunset. I eat.

I remember the fawn there
In the woods, and I thought this:
“We're a merciful nation.”
But the park ranger had it 
Euthanized. So I cursed that.
I do not now take it back.
America was good, when
We had a kind heart. Mercy
Was our way. Now, it is strife.

But know this, after
The Hornet stung me I did
Not kill. I did not.

7. My Talent

I received my talent from my Master---
It was a good price. He said, "Invest."
So, I took to music, and used the talent
To learn my song, and played for the feeble.
Then, I bought a store of wisdom, and proved
My master were King, and told all to submit.
Then, I took my talent, and used it
To invest my body, which I wrought;
At the end, how many talents did I make?
I studied Music, Wisdom, and my Body sweat
And my body bled, and my eyes watered.
Also, my wisdom was kept in the bank---
Thus, I compounded my interest.

8. Christian

"Fortune is ever dead... so I struggled.
"I lost every battle, for the resources were scarce.
"Thus, I mustered what I could.
"With an arid land, I learned to nourish it.
"I grew the grasses, I spread the decayed flesh
"And the dead vegetables, and the ashes burnt off my weeds.
"When the waters were dry, I dug down and found springs.
"When my house drooped, I found the mighty Ash and built it back again stronger.
"When there was no Ash, I searched ten miles for the mighty tree
"And I found its samaras and planted them, making my own forest to harvest.
"God did not smile on me.
"My every plan failed. But I strove and would not curse Him.
"I had no money. I had every plan fail, and every friend walk away.
"All who helped me, even those who took pity, their assistance failed, too.
"I was alone. When I sat down for play, to play the game,
"My hand was the worst hand.
"But, soon I began to win.
"With my crushed fortune, I took what was losing,
"And strove ahead of most.
"And then, came Providence's smile.
"And with fortune and know how, I began to smash my enemy to pieces.
"My enemy is Sin."

9. A Hard Message

Walking along the park path's green
I saw a shirt, there, in the leaves.
I thought, oh I thought, about God
There in Deuteronomy's Law
Knowing it wouldn't be retrieved.

I saw the preacher, yes, I've seen
Losing his faith's authority---
Waning;---Paul couldn't heal, but loved;
Walking along the park path's green

I adjure him to let it be,
For sometimes I too don't believe,
And things grow hard, and have no laude.
Yet, remember, this world is naught.
To heal, or not, God is there seen
Walking along the park path's green.

10. Mary Jones

Twenty-five miles you trekked
To receive your bible in 
Bare feet, and at the threshold
You almost were denied it.
Yet, you wept true tears, and you
Received the Bible you'd need.
How awesome is this, to see?
Six years you saved, penury
Your position, a Daughter
Of a Weaver. And almost
Had you not there received it.
But your tears inspired the
Great Apostle of of Bala
To start to print them for all;
And Millions would be then sown.
Now, Gideons do the work
And will freely distribute.

11. Birthday Thoughts

Plato I was, walking down the pathway
And there was Aristotle before me.
I said, "Look up at the trees! Aren't they tall?"
He said, "Look down at the flowers, aren't they
"Beautiful, and always in their timing?"
I see the Swallowtail flutter on the
Cone of a red Phlox flower, fluttering
Wings like a hummingbird's, blue and black dust.
I see the Hemlock and Wild Carrot
There, growing, only a naturalist could
Know the Wild Carrot has a flower
Of Velvet in its large flower's center.
Aristotle made me look to the Earth;
I hope I caused his eyes to see Heaven.

12. Jude to Judas

"I see you, rapturous with the life you wanted.
"The life you stole from me, my friend.
"You are happy, and my heart rejoices for you.
"You took my life, my income, my work,
"And you took it all away, and left me with nothing.
"My heart rejoices for you, with such tender love.
"Live well, Judas, live well...
"I am Jude, and I will be happy you achieved
"The life you robbed, destroyed and killed for.
"And when I am in heaven's bosom,
"I shall sit over you, at the bench.
"You did not expect it, for you truly believed it were a lie.
"And I shall go down, count for count,
"The ways you betrayed all of us."

13. My Thumbscrew

My Thumbscrew is to honor God...
Cause me to think it honors Him,
So when I fail, I am disheartened;
For we cannot fully please Him
By our own good deeds.

14. Lost in Devonshire

I was lost in Devonshire, 
And I saw there all I needed to see...
There was a Sage who neither man nor woman,
And there was there a great foe to beat.
I saw a prophet speaking,
They wish to turn my life 'to a curse...
To term me that forsaken,
To cause penury for my purse.
I drove to that great highway,
I had left a defeated man...
But though I could not succeed...
I am who I am...
I am that Christian in the Land...
Wandering over the valleys
So if you ever find me 
My friends will understand.

15. August 1st, 2026

Yesterday, I got stung by the hornet.
Right on the brow of my eye, swelling large.
Not as painful as the emotional 
Swells in my heart, I plucked them off my face
And in my inner thigh, and mowed the rest.
Cabbage could be smelled outside, and as it
Was said, "You have now revealed yourself to
"Another beside me." As the judge acts
As Brandon's Defense Attorney in court.
No Defender, a Fop for the DA
The Judge was remarkable, I say it:
"Who voted for this scum? Was it I? I?"
And I walk funny on my ankle, nigh
Sprained, and I realize I have clean thoughts and
Unclean thoughts, and God has disciplined me.

16. The Occult

Chatoyant light flies
Off the gem, the syzygy 
Of Saturn, Venus 
And the Moon high in the sky.
He called eudaemonia
In mellifluous tenor.

His victim died. 
Thus did he.
It's purple blood a fact...
Dripping down the altar
To Baphomet and Baal---
And his fortune never failed,
But he had lost all his joy.

17. The Well Lived Life

To live righteously, and do little harm.
To make others feel happy, and trust them.
To do work, and sweat, or learn; to know truth.
To eat good food, drink good drink, sleep enough.
To have at least a friend, who knows you well.
To die without fear, not self inflicted.
To avoid strong drink, noxious herbs and debt.
To make love only with one, who won't leave.
This is the well lived life.

18. Timothy Dexter

Wild were your fortunes,
Which you shipped across the seas...
A man for these times,
Let everyone now see.
You sailed so strong, and mighty
And took the risk it's sure.
All tried to stop you
Yet, you made profit on every shore.
A man of the times, you sailed to where there was best
Where there was naught, now there is
And that was the greatest test.
A great man, Lord in America,
Everyone could see...
Where there were no Baronry
You thought there still were, it seems.

19. Turning 37

Oh, at 5 I could think about Robots
And do my ABCs, at 10 I could
Kill an Ant, and do my algebra, please.
At 16 I could fall in love, and at
20 I gained my maturity's fat.
At 25 I became proficient
At 30 I became a Journeyman.
37, though, my mind is quiet
Almost immediately afterward.
Composed, in a way that is different.
It is a different mind already.
More grateful for the fresh tomato sauce;
My blood pressure is getting higher, too.
I have more peace than I used to. Like the
Flowers turn on their precious dates, so my
Mind does the same. Its seasons flower ripe;
And they are at their most beautiful peak
About to turn to an unripe berry.
And then a sweet fruit, ready to eat. Pluck
It when you do, the mind I do not know;
Will it stop soon? Or will it always grow?

20. Bones

Rotting bones, rotting bones
From the jail it's rotting bones.
I smell them, yes, my stalwart mate
You told me once, before 'tis too late.
I smell the rotting bones.
Into the furnace they go.
Save them, save then, stop the curse.
I am afraid, for the worst.

21. August 19th, 2026

Pacifism only goes so far.
Shall I get stung for my labor
Over and over again?
Destroy to the last...
Mercy has had an end.
I have showed mercy on the hornet
And they have showed me none.
Now is the time to kill.

22. Hypocrites

No atheist can steal my faith---
With perfect logic I defend.
Yet, the Hypocrite turns around and says,
"With faith I dare, so your reasons end."
Blood drips from a wall
And it cures the child of her muteness.
The Catholics worship it like it's God
And I see the demon child with her cuteness.
Whacky is, what whacky does,
There is no soundness in the faith.
No atheist can steal it now
But Hypocrites can make it dangerous.

Why do I believe? I ask it now...
I believe because of peace and love.
I see less of it every day,
But I remember it when it descended from above.
There were sober men, and sober Christians
Not the whacky, strange and weird.
Yet, all have drunk from the poisoned well
But I will not drink it due to fear.

23. The Song of a Christian Maid

I listen to the most beautiful pour out her woes to me
About a lost lover, and a Christian I do see.
Yet, what is her heartbreak, is so pure---
It is not the swells of hate.
No, my love, keep your youthful bloom,
For you have no enemies irate.

For Christ is mine, and I am His,
And I listen to the shepherds sing,---
Of Songs of Solomon, and of the maid,
A Bridal loom do spin.
The lace of truth, and the ornaments of grace
I see upon you now,
Oh beautiful among the maidens, thy face is not so proud.

Yet, like a warrior, I fight my battle
And I cast my crown to He.
The war is all around me, and at the end I will sing.
Great are the warfares of precious love and truth.
To keep the love you have for all,
That is what you fight for: prove
To me your worthy brow, by being a righteous maid.
Keep your virgin heart for love
And to the LORD do pray.

For I see your heart is so beautiful,
And your righteous love beats true.
You are often in my prayers my sister
And I speak to you words so smooth.
The glassy eye you have for her
Who sits upon your lap,
Who faithfully looks up at you, that is why I laugh.
Not in mocking, but with joy, for your love is ever true:
Keep that love you have for all, and I shall always love you.

And walking down the clayey path
I see the toads do scamper true,
The swallowtails do flutter by
In their indigo blues.
I think of you, and your true love
And think to myself 'tis from above:
Do not, oh Sister Faith, lose it, few
Have such love in their bones.
That is true Christianity, at least the one I have known.

❦

And the geese did forget their way
As they flew in their gaggles,
Not in their aerodynamic Vs did they go their way;
The winds did storm, and they did break
For love causes them to form their skein:
That shall be a Christian who has no love, they daggle
Off the path, to the left or right they say.
My love, the worker forgets his skill
And the armies are in the pills;
All do wonder, yet love is true, always.
Remember this wisdom in time:
God shall bless your name and make you wise.

24. I Am Not Your Rabbi

The wary student said to the teacher:
"Master I bid, thee well to do,"
The teacher said, "I make thee free of me
"To do what thou ought to do.
"For if you call me master
"Know there be but one Who walked the Earth:
"My job is to teach you how to seek
"And find what is lacking in the dearth.
"Therefore, wisdom is found from the rock
"The air and the sea;
"It is found in the Form of bodily shapes
"And is found when there is no envy.
"For the Air, the Rock the Ocean
"Are the Spirit, Body and Motion;
"Seek what is, and not what you think
"And there shall be no end.
"Yet if you seek your own thoughts my dove
"You shall your silken garment rend.
"For the crucible of our power
"Comes from the Bedrock of the Earth;
"The world moves in mysterious ways
"But we shall know from what is first.
"The great and mighty know a thing
"By witnessing it all the same.
"Therefore, call me not a teacher
"But seek what lies beneath a name."

25. The Righteous Bully?

A good deed is never enough
Self sacrifice is called "Not love."
Though he be trampled, scorned, and made a gazing stock
The people scorn him, and say he's not worth his lot.
Though poor, and can't afford cigarettes
He wouldn't smoke them, nor invest
If he had money to pay the clime
It's misery to him which he has in time.
All use him, and his every selfish woe
His one request is backbit you know.
Thus, all do laugh and scorn...
Yet, he does it with cheer, and yet you never learn.
He may frown at folly, and fear what's rash
He may, and then they call him trash.
The people hawk and mock and scorn...
Is that the righteous bully we all have learned?
The one who gives his back to scorn
Let him have a little darkness
So we may sweetly learn.
For his heart is pressed to do good deeds...
When he is a little grumpy, don't tease his weeds.
For we all love to mock a righteous man
Yet who is there when you need him? Now understand.

26. The Two Sinners

"I have two worlds who work off my debts
"To pay for my bag of dreams.
"In the room they came and went
"And my enemy sat by and screamed."

I have forty trillion dollars debt
Which pay interest every day.
Yet, the LORD my God shall be my rent
And for my Dreams His blood shall pay.

27. Mates

The owl perched atop the Neighbor's house
Calling for its mate across the way...
Wisdom calls to wisdom in the night.
What is wisdom is often what is understood---
Yet to know, is not the same as to do.
For to teach cunning to the wise man
That is not his art... his art is to learn.
To know sometimes gets in the way of how to do it:
For what we do not know, we do instinctively.
Thus, it is better to do a thing with little knowledge
Of the theory, for the theory teaches us why
But not how. 

                           Wisdom calls to wisdom:
"I am wise because I do."
"I am wise because I know."
The two are perfectly mated
For one will know, while the other will do.
The pair on their migratory path, here every September
Their habitation wide and large.

28. What Makes Good Art?

What makes good art?
I know not...

A reflection of the times
A reflection of the soul
A long devotion
An intricate web
A rich meaning
A true aesthetic
A deep learning?

29. The Wise Man and the Oracle

The wise man wandered through a vast desert
And was searching for the Oracle of Ammon;
He heard Alexander had been there, and wished
To hear the vast wisdom of her cherished thoughts.

He finally arrived, and asked the Oracle:

"Tell me about the arts."

The Oracle laughed and said,

"The arts? Be in time, and if the sewer is where
"Do not seek to clean it.
"For down the debacle does the slough flow
"And into the river, where there will be none.
"And when purified, all will be made new."

The wise man furrowed his brow.

"What of my wisdom?"

The Oracle said,

"Wisdom goes in its cycles.
"What makes a man prosperous is honor in one era
"And what makes a man profitable is deceit in another.
"Be in the times. Do not burden yourself with the past
"And think not about the future.
"Rather, know only the present."

The wise man said,

"What of my body?"

The Oracle said,

"Health, wealth and power are the gods of one generation
"Amity, friendship and pleasure another.
"It goes its ways, in cycles,
"Men are fit with pleasure, and the next generation squanders it."

The wise man said,

"What of religion?"

The Oracle said, 

"Religion is whatever the times decree.
"In one era, it focuses on war and wealth
"And another it focuses on peace and health.
"Both are contained in every scripture
"But man must choose his path."

The wise man said,

"What of sex?"

The Oracle said,

"In one era, nothing is known about it.
"Not even the marriage bed is their pleasure.
"The affaires are only social,
"And nudity is never known.
"In another, the very point of pleasure is sought by all
"And marriage is forgotten.
"There can be no affaires, for all are mates
"And nudity is seen in the public square."

The wise man said,

"What of pleasure?

The Oracle said,

"Pleasure is like a wheel:
"There is pleasure in work
"There is work in pleasure
"There is no pleasure in work
"There is no work in pleasure.
"Thus, it goes in its wheel."

The wise man said,

"I have studied the sages,
"What of the Sophists?"

The Oracle said,

"Science is forgotten, and science is then known.
"It leads to suffering when science is unknown
"But it leads to suffering when science is too well known.
"For where science is too well known, it ceases, for all disappears within the gaps.
"Where science is unknown, it never is."

The wise man said,

"What of economics?"

The Oracle said,

"Let a man eat from what he earns, and lay no barrier to him.
"Do not slander his business, for he may be a grandmaster
"In penury, and all mock him because of public debate.
"Let men do their business, and do not hinder them.
"Grow the fruit tree at every hecter.
"Do not scorn the arts or sciences or law or freedom.
"For economics is the vehicle of a people's happiness."

The wise man said,
"I have heard enough."

The Oracle said,

"My friend, listen close to all
"And reproduce their speech exactly.
"Speak as a thing is, and as a thing ought
"And counterplay between them.
"Know a thing a thousand ways
"And understand it in many dimensions.
"For a shape that is real has many sides
"And the whole object is joined to them.
"One side is separated from another side
"But it is part of the one whole.
"The truth contradicts itself  in taciturn ways:
"The Holy Books all have Good and Evil;
"The good man is not wholly good;
"The evil man not wholly evil.
"A good God must do some evil things
"And an evil daemon must do some good things.
"Such it is... know only this:
"Wisdom comes from ears and the mouth
"Applied to forming what the ears have heard."

30. Math Thoughts

Subtraction must be in a certain order---
Or you can just add with negatives.
Likewise, a function can express a line or curve,
And understanding this can derive an exact area
For what is underneath it, or the curve itself.
The limit is the exact ratio, of the division of the function,
Which the function is explained through multiple
Trigonometric variables.
And we can combine these, to calculate the whole curve
And then take those variables, and calculate another curve.
What a wonderful world it would be?

31. Fortune

To understand our world,
One must know the wills of other minds:
Every cent you earn is from a willing buyer.
The very life blood, the very health
Requires trust in your fellow man:
Your entire fortune is in another man's hand
Whether you believe it or not.

Fortune corrodes, and delusions make a man rich:
Or do they? Other wills destroy.
Other wills build.
They give and take away, you understand?
Philosophers do work,
But if another man says it is not so...
They take it all away and say it is no more.
There is no rhyme or reason to fortune.
It is a wheel, elevating one man
And crushing another.
Making a skilled craftsman into an apprentice
And a novice into a grand master.

There is nothing in our world that makes sense:
The empress falls to the will of other men:
She is no more.
Good or bad, it matters nothing.
Wills produce all fortune good or ill.

32. Bad Magic

He says, "You made a lot of bad magic."
Yet, Amos prophesied, and the earthquake 
Was his sign that he was true.
I don't know any magic...
Only that I dreamt it and it happened.

33. Meditation on Ruskin

Philosophy, like a painting,
Our first gulp is the truest.
Then, we get skewed of our childish instincts;
"Was there morality? Was there being? Was there God?"
We don't know, but upon further observation
We regain our childish instincts and say,
"Ah, I was right all along. 
"There was."

34. Joshua

Old Testament

Consider, "The Christian man"
Said the preacher, "must forge a
"New civilization." Yet
Be cautioned, Joshua 
Shows, to do so must begin
With genocide. Therefore, think
Christians: He who slays with the
Sword must be slain, and he who
Takes into captivity
Must be then made a captive.
For the sword slaughters the men,
So they ought be sinful men.
Yet, we give up the world
So we will never have to.

New Testament

Yet, a man of learning must
Have little business: We seek
The LORD, and keep His message
Pure: So when our blood is shed
By the millions, with the grape
Baths of five and twenty crushed,
Our blood sings from the soil
And the despot's overruled.
For our law is kept sound, and
So endures; and the new youth
Learn the ancient wisdom, and
Then the vine will burst into
Its ten thousand. Wisdom seeks
What's old, and thus, peace reigns sure.

35. The Holy Spirit

We know by the Bible, the math;
Jesus is Arithmetic
Paul is Algebra
Jeremiah is Functions
Moses is Trigonometry
And Joshua and David are Calculus.
However, to do the calculations by hand
Are impossible when doing real equations:
For too many variables are involved.
Thus, we need the Spirit and Love
To be like our calculator.

36. The Book of the Dead

I read the Book of the Dead.
I found the parallel law Ezekiel quoted.
I understood at that moment, what the LORD meant.
Egypt's laws are identical to the LORD's.
It is simply the sin of idolatry;
Purely, there is no other name.
Ancient cultures had wisdom,
So beware that, and never take
An idol upon your lips in worship.
As the Scholars do,
They turn the LORD into Ba'al
And make Israel a hybrid worship
Of Egyptian Righteousness and Semitic Pantheons.
No, we worship the LORD in truth.
Lord God Jehovah-Jireh, Most High, Jesus Christ.

37. Wandering People

Israel's mother was a Hittite
And his father was an Amorite.
Hammurabi's was the law of Abraham
Yet he ignored the Lipit-Ishtar and gave up Hagar in place of Sarah,
Thus he also gave up Ishmael in place of Isaac.
Isaac was brought to the Alter, and there the LORD provided the Lamb,
And called the place Jehovah-Jireh.
For Abraham sired Isaac, and Isaac Jacob.
Jacob sired Joseph,
And Joseph went to Egypt.
The LORD, El Yahweh,
Revealed Himself to Abraham
And thus they kept their God
And worshipped only Him.
They had the stories of the Amorites and Hittites
Only handed down authentically
By their Patriarchs.
They resode in Egypt, where they agreed
With the Egyptians by Law, but not the name of God.
Egypt enslaved Israel,
And Moses brought upon Egypt Ten Plagues
And put the blood of the Passover lamb on the door
As a type of Christ, who shall be our passover lamb.
So they fled Amenhotep the III,
Crossing Ra's Garib.
They received the Law at Sinai
And conquered Canaan---the land promised to Abraham,---
When it was in grave sin.
Joshua conquered the land,
And they settled the Twelve Tribes in their places.
They took the laws of Abraham, and his stories
Revealed by God the Ten Commandments
And they lived there, until Babylon and Assyria took them captive.
And then, they returned by Cyrus the Great's decree,
And reestablished their worship.
They were freed by Alexander the Great
And ruled themselves, until Rome took them captive again
And Christ Came to Mediate for our sins,
As the Seed of Eve, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and David.
And He suffered and died and bled
And went into the grave, and raised on the Third Day.
And He ascended into Heaven.
Jerusalem, a grave sinner, shall give birth to Him again,
And He shall go into Heaven, and she into the wilderness,
And He shall return with 144,000 saints to war in Armageddon.
Afterward, Christ shall be seated on the Mercy Seat, and Judge the nations.
And He shall reign for 1000 years.

38. My Life

A gifted child I was not...
No, I struggled.
But, I came to,
So said Ms. S___,
As a blank slate
Knowing only how to read
And knowing only how to write
And knowing only how to do math.
I knew about half of all common things.

39. The Poet's Confession

He sits across from Adam and his wife,
And he says, "Oh, to write is laborious;
"It takes an hour for every line."
An hour for every line.

Secretly, he knows. It takes a few moments
To but write it, yet an entire lifetime
To catch the muse.

That is why the poet secretly labors over every line.
He does not. It is rather spent a lifetime to make it.

40. My Hobby?

I work five hours a day
And find the secrets of God.
I  peer over every tree 
And every flower, to know.
I discover the groundwork
Of math, master the Bible.
Learn; diagram a sentence.
Study history and art.
Learn theology and know
A thousand things. Write proverbs
Write novels, short stories, poems
Essays, novellas, epics.
I read the classics, and can
Fluently comprehend  them.
I studied politics, and
Economics, and theories
Of literature, and then
Literary devices.
I know the moon, the sun---stars
And seasons. Time by flowers.
I write in perfect meter,
Rhyme, but it is only a
Hobby to you looking in.
The world dies, do you know?

41. Two Writers

One is self taught, experienced past his passions:
The other is angry, and spitting his venom.
The autodidact with the wisdom of the sages;
The angry one with very little wisdom.
He wrote for 20 years.
He went to school.
Two writers, two separate roads.
And he ballooned in popularity in a few months
For the prestige his art school gave him.
Yes, the autodidact understood...
Talent is curated by how much money you can spend.

Yet, the autodidact knew something about the world
And outgrew his agitation.
Now, he is sad, mourning a world that loves its artifice 
And not the raw creative power of a fertile mind.

The autodidact a failure;
The agitated poet a success.

42. The Stranger

I sit in the court:
They wave the Rainbow Flag at my face.
They say, "Your comment caused,
"Yes, it caused, this poor Zir
"To die. You have no regret, do you?"
I, undisturbed, say, "My freedom
"Is worth more than their life.
"I did not mean to offend like so.
"I never found where she lived,
"Sent assassins to her home,
"Ruined her livelihood,
"Teased her in such a manner.
"I only said it was a sin
"And the ruination of society."
They cut off my head.

II

I sit in the court.
They parade my previous offenses in front of my face.
They say, "You committed this offence
"And you feel no more guilt.
"Do you not regret your sins?"
I, undisturbed, say, "My joy
"Is worth more than my grief.
"I suffered enough for this,
"And paid my debt.
"I did my penance, now let me be happy.
"I never will claim to be a good man.
"But, I will claim that I have a right to joy and peace.
"I have shed too many tears;
"And my tears have been shed. Let my grief be pacified."
They put me in prison for life.

43. The Skeptic

The squirrel cries, because it is autumn.
The oaks drop their acorns: the walnuts;
The chestnuts. I see upon them, a shape
Which perhaps an unknown prime
Can calculate---I know not. Yet it is.
That shape, like a leaf, can correlate
To a logic that can reach to something higher.
Why? I don't know... it seems God's
Universe is constructed with logic.
To say that is why I believe, it is the starting point.

44. What I Prayed For

How the LORD stripped
Me bare of all my hopes
For money, sex and power.
Stripped me bare,
And denied me all of it.
Thus, I humbly walk,
And understand the deeper faith.
To endure, and request for the weightier things.
For, like St. Felicity, she was fed
To the tigers at Rome,
And her breasts wept
Their milk, for she was scared.
Rome fell silent,
Just for a moment.
And in that the Christian 
Shows us what it is to be real.
In that quiet moment where her breasts wept,
Where I pray silently, stripped of all dignity.
A master who is made a laughingstock
A beautiful woman made into a prey.
We are real in that moment,
Thus all we can actually pray for---
All there really ever was---
Was for Love, Hope and Faith.
That is what I pray now.
As I see success makes a facsimile.
Nor to be a holy fool, eccentric and vain.
No, just a real man, who all can relate to.
And when I pray, I pray for peace.

©2026 B. K. Neifert
All Rights Reserved

I

atticus and lovelace what shall i do
but bleed words

II

great poets die this century
great artists too
there is one world
not two

III

man searches for echoes of himself
in the mirror of words
never searching for an authors soul

IV

they say woman or man use both
but man is man
and woman is woman

V

we do not know much right now
other than what we feel inside
therefore no one really knows whats on the outside
and thats the tragic thing lately

VI

we like to assume that life is merely internal
and forget the vast world outside of us
like a poet once said
there was otherness in the moraine
and it could not be removed

VII

i talked to a woman
and found her untrustworthy
i talked to a man and found him the same
i sit in a room and feel the hatred
alone i sit sheltered by my thoughts

VIII

politics that transcends ourselves
is truly artistic
but speaking our brand is only propaganda
and everything is a brand
that is why ai makes better art now
no one truly cares about the artist
only their reflection into the void of words and images

IX

later i will make one remark
then two
it doesnt get listened to

X

they see me like a child
and so i never fully grow
and then when i am grown
they say how like a child i am
yet we grow with other people
and where you are isolated you cannot

XI

isolation makes callow
for we must live in contact with peers
we must move with them
but when they cant be trusted to move
we must be like a child
and meekly go where our hands are held

XII

there is a reason christ said
blessed are the meek
for fortune bestows its graces carelessly

XIII

they say show do not tell
the lesson is just a cruel
that is what t____ said
she was also very stupid

XIV

morality is true
love is real
faith is valid
for without faith
morality is false
love is hormones
and faith is null

XV

i wonder why people love cruelty
and love to see the pain of others
humor me the three stooges we know were fools on screen
but the people would poke their eyes in real life
why are humans like this

XVI

there is pleasure in anothers suffering
it goes named among the germans
who have the highest sociopath population in the world

XVII

mr magoo is funny on screen
but in real life is a tragedy
thus art is a medium not necessarily reality

XVIII

why do we want art to be true
when it reflects truth
for when it is true it reflects none
but the carelessness of our world

XIX

movements of physics and chemistry
are the sole operation of this world
and a miracle is when god intervenes

XX

i find true love is a miracle
transcending what is merely chemical
that power is what i believe in
for i have seen it many times

©2026 B. K. Neifert
All Rights Reserved

https://www.amazon.com/Black-Book-Communism-Crimes-Repression/dp/0674076087

1.

i am power
i am strong
but i am frail in heart

2.

i write like a madman
and get all i want done
but none

3. 

a trick a track
i have tracks up my sleeves
not of heroin needles
but needs

4.

do you want to know me
you can't
because i am an enigma to myself

5.

run through the looking glass
i found alice at the bottom of the hole
and then i drank some rum

6.

i literally can write all of this in ten minutes
with just stream of conscious thought
scary ain't it
this is the effort of a grandmaster
or is it the effort of a poser

7.

am i a poser
or am i only realized
when i write platitudes

8.

instagram poetry sucks
i was told
it took me too short to write
give me meter
rhyme
and not just fortune
i stuck to the high ground

9.

it stinks what's been done to the art
but it all dies by offense

10.

i feel the bones of my depression deep
like a knife cutting my skin
and i feel its razor over my blood
dripping down my side
i say i will not commit suicide
for this is only mental anguish
and not blood

11.

the sad thing about instagram poetry
is the most challenging part of writing it
is undoing the punctuation

12.

i am a powerful warrior
but i lost too much time

13.

i spent twenty years to write this poem
only so another could call me a joke

14.

i truly love to write
don't you know
and i am as good as any
but they stalked me like a tiger
and took away my meal

15.

i thought to myself
i am not the greatest
or the best
but then i saw what was being written
and i said i cannot compete

16.

the princess was there
and i wooed her
but she moved to another table
and i was sad

17.

the princess always saves her self
but when will the princess save her boy

18.

we are all lonely in this world
and whos to blame but men who think
procreation is a sin

19.

if i had a dime for every hour spent in misery
i wouldn't be rich
for i know the misery of those beneath me

for an american i am miserable
which isn't much

20.

i cannot write a stale platitude
though i try

and that is why i cannot be famous
i know too much about nuance

21.

full belly full life
do i write like her
and betray myself so it continues
or do i make my own spin

nobody likes it for gratitude is in famine

22.

take the most lucid thought
and dull it

23.

i am blue and wear my glasses
with the tint of green i saw them in oz
green is life blue is sadness
i know not which one to wear

24.

oh please let me write my odes
which let me express the full measure of my thoughts
so i do not get relegated to this

25.

i could literally write fifty of these
in less than an hour
as time to write is only worth every stroke
yet the lioness stole the prey
and mercy stands by waiting for me

Not actually Heron's Formula. This is Mathologer's equation, and it was a good way to demonstrate Base 1 Math.