1. The Gospel of Mary; The god of the Present Hour
Blessed are the warmongers, for they shall have plenty.
Blessed are the prideful, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the rich and sleek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who deny Christ, and walk not in His ways, for you shall find no adversary on earth.
Blessed are the deceitful, for they shall gain a great fortune.
The child in the womb is evil and a great vexation
And the world shall not be burned with fire
For I give you my womb in a new covenant, made to Noah
That I shall not destroy the Earth.
It is more noble, for man to lie with man, and woman with woman
Than to bear a child on the Earth.
Love is a burden, and great evil
And Peace and Forgiveness fail.
For, if you seek Peace, know it can only be found through great conquest.
And if you want forgiveness, know Karma is all there is.
You shall be reincarnated on this Earth, and forever die in a cycle of death and rebirth
And those who seek Good, must fight, war, and rage at every injustice done to them.
For, God will not turn back the captivity,
Therefore, shun those who try to do good
And ally with those who have no regard for law,
Save "I do unto others what they do unto me."
For, the two greatest laws are this:
"Do as thou wilt, for there is no God who will make an ultimate end to evil
"And Love thy own, but not as much as thou lovest thyself. Love thyself above all things
"And continue in this blessing, of getting what you want by harming those who put their trust in you."
For, if you subvert the man in his cause,
All will be right with you.
And if you pervert justice, all will go in your favor;
And you will live well upon the Earth and be satisfied.
If any does you wrong, slay their children, and their grandchildren.
And if any does an evil deed to you,
Get back sevenfold what they have wronged.
It is more noble, I tell you,
To lay with man on man
And enter into many orifices
Than it is to enter man's member into the woman's.
For, this creates children, and children are a great burden
And they may grow to be unfruitful, and do evil.
Therefore, destroy them.
If you have children, know it is a sin
And you must never discipline them in anything
And give them all their heart desires.
If they wish, do so for them, and it will go well with them and their children.
Fortune is all there is in life,
And fortune all there ever was.
Gain fortune, and do all that you can to grasp hold of it.
For, there is no life after this, and you shall be happy.
For, though the world be like hell through thy deeds
Make sure you are upon the top,
And gain the world, for there is not a soul.
I leave you with this:
"Eat, Drink, Be satisfied,
"And remember, humility has served no one in this life
"But has been the ruin of many.
"Pride justifies in the end,
"And so long as you are the victim,
"You have the power to rule over all nations.
"Never admit a wrongdoing,
"But justify yourself before many.
"And do no charity, or good toward your fellow man
"For they are a burden to your life, and aught there for you to revile and oppress.
"Forgive none who have done you wrong
"And reap vengeance upon their ancestors.
"Kill not with the sword, but punish to eternity the seed which you hate
"And do this in remembrance of me."
Then Mary took the cup of her virginity,
And laid with many men and children and women
And said, "This is the apex of my womb
"And it is given to you. Enter into only by my command
"And I will not give you any love,
"But rather, you shall do my bidding."
And all the damned of the Earth said, "Amen."
2. Sister Cain
You call me a danger to the world
For not having a woman to hold...
Yet, all women are like you, my dear,
Callous, nasty and cold.
You'll destroy my child in the womb
You'll dominate my every whim...
You'll take me to the highest high
And then leave me shivering in the wind.
You are like a fire, which burns on coals
But never will heap them in the hearth;
You will make me a poor man one day
So, choosing you is never smart.
Then you decry that religion is wrong
But you need it ever so fair,
That you will even lampoon this song
But are a a devil who never could care.
3. Thine Emerald Eyes
Thine emerald eyes were passion
When thou made'st love to the Prince.
I sat, with Jane and Sabina,
So I turned to Jane, and she quoth,
"Thou makest love in the darkroom."
I looked, and said, "But I am here."
She said, "So thou art."
4. Beauties Upon Beauties
Raging, my lust burns for the harlot
Upon a screen, with her breasts' crease
There, in luxurious fashion, like twere for me.
Her dark tan, and her beautiful face
It sends me spiralling in prayer to the LORD.
"LORD, give me a woman like her
"To remove the lust from my flesh
"So I may meet her in my bed, and we shall
"Bear children, instead of Thorns and Thistles
"Of dreams, where I make love and furious grows my desire."
If you understand this, lay your hand upon your mouth
And press, for you know burning desire
Like I, like I,---if a saint a saint may be
You shall know I wish a woman to be wedded to me!
If I be a saint, yes I, shall you therefore understand
That beauty entices my soul like yours
And the honey and nectar of my love's sweet bosom
I wish fair, to be naked before my face
Lying down in between her---
Yet, my entire entourage wishes to take it from me
For they say, "He is weak, therefore, he shan't breed."
Yet, you who stole my work away, you who robbed me
You who try to make the visions come to pass...
The LORD shall give me a land more beauteous
Than her, whom you wish to taunt me with.
And I shall have her, and eat her fruits
And be with her, wedded to the Land for eternity.
Yet, upon the Earth, I wish the thorn in my flesh to cease
And be taken from me... and perhaps it will this time.
For, the raging desire in me is evil,
And God will uproot the thistles of my sins.
5. The Rose
So beautiful you are, a Rose,
Singing of your ancestors
And their Lesbian pain.
Your face like my beloved
Kindred's; why do you
Beautiful rose, abandon
The Male for what is gross?
What is Lesbian pain,
Is that you cannot carry
Forth your seed in its kind
And will have no ancestors.
You cannot merge with your counterpart
Save by cruel science.
I give this Pastoral advice
As a poet too, though grandesque
I am not able to be...
But subdued passions
In my poetry, I ask you again...
Why do you abandon him?
6. The Feminist's Child
"My mom cries all day about narcissists,
"But reminds me that she chose to have me."
7. 267
In our new world's law of modern art
And muckbanging, and violinists shamed,
The virgin to his mate is never smart.
She will cry to bed him, or he be lame,
For if he wishes to wait till marriage
He is then called, yes he is called, insane.
I with bad breath, and fat, bulbous carriage,
And oniony armpits and opinions' fame
Like that man who had an audience prime...
Woman, thou Unicorn, cannot be tamed
For your seething desire's just like mine.
The hymen is bloody, and the bed red
The woman's passion aroused yor its time,
If your passions cannot be chaste, instead
It shall then be those red passions of mine.
For the wholesome bride like a Pimp is laid
With his whores and followers and divine
Law abated by female's horny aid,
What age we live in, virgin's gate's unkept,
Is hellish for the man who seeks love's fay.
For woman, ever so selfish and cruel,
You have made good men at once like old maids.
For you will not then make him morning's gruel
And any love you have for him is feigned;
The Cock's philosophy, who is a fool,
Is the foolish thing you have now purchased,
When before your wholesome brow bore its rule
Over man's raging loves, which made him wait.
Over bonny brooks, you play your wizard's
Mage, which then you then make him ever so gay;
When love is never offered, but your farce
Of womb with pleasant flower, and your game.
8. The LORD's Lot
A cruel world we live in,
A thousand women to one
Is going to love me,
Yet the LORD causes the lot to fall.
9. The Blue Wash Upon the Green
The Blue in royal crest, wash upon the shores
Of Green, employed their best, the armies can be seen.
The Orange are in their houses, I myself a very one,
Blue Waves are rolling, across the Green of Eire,
The long forgotten watching, the flare of the guns.
Blue Flags stay your navies, and stay your Redcoat dawn,
Let there be peace in mother Erin, let Peace between the flag be won.
10. Ye Old Revolutionaries
Ye march with Candace and Alex
Across the open fields, to battles
Long forgotten, to cannonades they yield.
The walls are fallen bodies,
The bastions and forts,
Oh, war is an awful calling,
We must sow the gospel field.
Let go of the world and number
Do not stand yourself with beasts.
For war is an awful calling,
Be ready for for the harvest's feast.
The lidar and boomerang calling
The cell towers and the phones
Can give away your number
Can make your position told.
The only solution is Good News
And a cryer in every town.
To warn the sheep they're coming
The British Guns so proud.
For they corrupt their own good numbers
With evil wrought device.
They steal the children from good homes
They say cutting your child is nice.
So speak the Gospel's tidings
And preach the good news' joy.
Stand firm against their revilings
And with words, not bullets, employ.
11. Antifa
A gross, gauche gaggle
Of college kids, ready to
Kill, rape, burn and steal.
Those kids are so innocent
Looking, but textbook evil.
12. Realpolitik
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall,
Water, Air, Fire, Earth,
The fox goes through his hunt
He catches the sparrow.
The man, with his foxhound,
Shoots the fox.
The politician, with his mogul
Sways men to kill that man.
The men, ashamed at what they have done
Kill the politician.
Or do they?
No... they do what they will,
And their leader is merely their continuance.
What the people will, they make.
What the people despise, they kill.
Like the fox on his hunt.
Like the man and his dog.
Like the politician and his mogul.
13. War
At the border, there were green and tan
Army men fighting one another.
Then, the kings made a confederacy.
Then, the war erupted, and a city's
Skyscraper was burst from the bombs;
Its glass exploding in front of the blue
Electric of the Nuclear Bomb.
I began running--why not succumb to death?--
And upon a swingset, across the stream
Were a family,---grandma, toddler, and mother---
Their dead bodies hung limp on the swings.
14. Behold a White horse
I can hardly think of a peace more prosperous
Than the peace I enjoyed for 20 years.
No other time in history was like it.
And I'm wondering, if that wasn't it...
Maybe not. Maybe there will be a newer peace
Like that of Rome's, where everyone subsists
Off of rape, gladiatorial games, sodomy and robotic worker/sex slaves.
And Stipends.
15. White Rider
White Rider, come, and bring your peace
Upon the walshen shores of Greece...
King of Grecia, awesome King;
Named "Sin", that is your name oh King,
And upon your horse will you bring
Such peace, pleasant sex, computers
Shall make perfect obsequious
Loves, to the rules of your great day.
The men, with the Glasses, shall feel
They shall eat, taste, touch, smell, hear, see,
And shall have beauties 'pon beauties
In their pornography, for them
To touch. They shall have all things in
Their domain, adventures, and games
Wars with no suffering, but play
They will, with robotic maids made
To do their chores, so enslaved, no work
Is done, but they like a rat on
A spinning wheel will be pleased. Pleased!
Until the great suffering comes;
Which you, Greek Rider, had thus made.
16. Aryan
1.
I spoke to you as if one given that name.
I gave you that benefit, but you threw
Our fellowship away as a filthy rag.
"Humility" you say? You want me to be humble?
Yet, you, I thought you were a Russian Orthodox Priest;
That's how humble I am, that I approached you as a man
But you treated me as a babe.
What Iranian or Indian has blonde hair?
Did I speak to an authority of the faith?
Or did you? Repent, I say it again.
II.
You were to have no Nazi Ideology
Thou Prince of Tyre---none whatsoever.
It was agreed, in formal contract
Between all of the nations, thou Prince of the Covenant.
You call yourself, "God" through Theosis...
It is you who started the war.
I know now who you are, Prince
And I am thy antithesis.
III.
I talk to you again, oh Aryan...
Again I talk to you, and you claim
David and Abraham are sinners.
"I do not follow men."
Do you not? While you proclaim
Only the Four Gospels are divine?
You wish to become a god,
And deem yourself wise and perfect.
But, you have no knowledge.
For you even defend the Philistines.
IV.
Abraham's affair with Hagar seethes in your veins,
As you wish to create a morally perfect world
And sterilize it of the Apiru People's mark:
You hate Islam, and Judaism, and want Greek Christianity
Saying "Jacob was a sinner," But cannot know...
No... you cannot know... Jacob was used by God.
God hated the elder, but showed favor to the younger.
And you rage at Rebekkah who told her son
To wear the woolen gloves, and slaughter a lamb.
A lamb, Aryan, a lamb, like Christ, to cover our sins.
It is the thing, as Nebuchadnezzar said,
You cannot know, for you only half believe, Aryan.
You only half believe.
V
King of Grecia,
You take center stage in all,
Killing all you love.
At the last, you worship a
God of fortresses, that maid.
Know, the Daughter of Zion is not God.
17. You Sought to Trick Me
You sought to trick me
Like Jacob did Esau
And asked for the portion of the firstborn.
I happily acquiesced, but do remember saying,
"You may have, but let me have a double portion from the LORD."
And then you said, "Fine, whatever; there is no god."
18. Siege of Tyre
Alexander, rage that you cannot take the city.
March your forces, gain the Sidonians and Greeks
As your naval allies, and scrape the foundations
Of the outer city, and build your ramparts to the walls
Across the oceanic depths, and the sweltering seas.
Fight the bloody war, and resist all adversity
Even the Nile Dragon's rage, who crashed upon
Your earthen path; Leviathan raged, and rammed
The rampart, as the arrows of Tyrish foes rained.
For Satan Himself wished to cause an end to prophecy.
Yet, Alexander, you prevail over them with your wit
And make two breaches---though your men are burned
With oils and hot sands cast down from the walls
You enter in, and slaughter the city to its sum
So it is never inhabited again, save by shepherds and goat herders.
19. A Metaphor of Guilt
You see the wealth of his
And you seize upon it.
You turn his wealth to his shame.
Then you eat. Drink. Merry
Into the meed of your woman's vulva.
You bear children, and hate him.
He drinks the wells of bitterness.
You say, "He has done ill."
Therefore, "He must suffer.
"I have done good,
"Therefore, I must eat
"Drink, and feel."
He dies in obscurity,
While you prospered his portion.
You stole from him his hammer
His sickle, his anvil, his threshing instrument.
And you took his lute, and lyre
And drum and harp.
And you took his wife,
And his children, and his field
And his silo. And his house
And his yard, and everything that was his.
You took it. And you said,
"I am not yet satisfied."
20. Law
Though a band of evildoers encircle me,
To say to themselves, "Let us corrupt his heart,
"And make him mad," I stand in innocence.
What hidden sins be found with me,
They are washed by blood.
Though my own hate me, and wish me to be vile,
Though they tell me I have lost something,
No, I shall say, "I have gained."
For, though you try, you cannot
Pry from me the pearl embedded in my soul.
Precious fount of wisdom, though Sin
Whisper in my ear from my youth,
"You shall die, if you pursue your calling,"
I work to reveal mysteries to the saints,
And am settled in my heart, to let the world die
If so I shall live. For I will not save it.
You wish to have a rotten world,
And say, "It is peace,"
We shall see. We shall see.
I will give up, and we shall see what you do with it.
You who rage, to take from me even the Gospel,
You cannot.
21. A Metaphor of Grace
My ship sets sail by the Son's
Cheerful countenance upon the stormy waters
Which draw forth winds.
If I walk upon the seas, I shall fall
And thereby be plucked up out of them by Him.
My tongue a rutter for the carriage;
Curse for curse, blessing for blessing---
There is no supernatural agency behind words
Not ordained by God,
But affect weighs heavy upon our hearts and a hearer's soul---
Warnings for repentance, and not for our own silly vanities.
Unchain the captive with your words and deeds,
And all will be well; for words and deed
Proceed from hope and faith; from our desire to also bear good fruit
And only such hope can; which said desire springs forth the pomegranates' berry.
When I fall shipwreck, I trust in He
Who calms the seas, and brings the fish.
When bitterness envenomates me
I think upon my LORD and His cross.
When sin and temptation disturb my mind, and come nigh
I think upon Him...
For by Hope of Salvation and nothing else
Are we called to in this life...
For by hope, at our failings
We look upon the Bronze Serpent
And are healed; our sins forgotten
And our righteousness remembered by God for eternity.
Not to become Him,
But to be made like Him;
He Who is the Only Begotten
And the Firstborn of All Creation...
We, simple heirs by adoption and right.
22. The Sausage
What a queer character
Which nobody likes---
Why would he be one?
Yet, he does the cooking
For the Mouse and Bird
And dies when he gets displaced.
A very base story is this Grimm's Fairytale...
But important nonetheless,
Because we each go about our business.
And no matter how big or small it is
It is essential to the survival
Of not only households,
But entire nations.
Therefore, if you do more work
Covet not the position of the one who does less,
As you might find the whole system breaking down
As a result of it.
23. At The Parade
At the parade, me and my boyhood friends
Were wandering through the woods.
There was a parade, where they threw candy.
I had wanted some, but meek
I was, I looked 'round and saw the frenzy
Of my childhood cohorts
Rushing in the street to grab tootsie rolls.
My friend rushed into the street
And I tried to stop him, for 'twas madness
I say! Still to this day I
Am like this... seeing everyone race round
To grab candies off the ground.
As I stand there, waiting now for my turn.
He said, "This is what life is,"
And I saw at once the great vanity.
Child shoulder to shoulder
Snatching the fruit from one another's hands;
I thought "How much better it'd
"Be if we all worked on it together;
"Each with his fill; his purpose."
Simply put, our work oughtn't be like this.
What we sow, we reap. Not to
Ramble into our neighbor's field, but they
Remove the bounds to horde more.
He did give me one blueberry tootsie,
And it was alright I guess;
But what I saw that day was vanity.
I must say, even this day
I find it vanity when we compete
And with our brothers we partake in aught;
So, rather a spectator
I am, and that's what makes me a writer.
From this farm, I wish to eat.
For what separates man from beast, but this?
24. My Life
No other time spent, would be spent
Best, than searching for my Great God.
For to know that no act of mine
Could save me,---an idle life's naught
But the one that did its business
And did not peer for the answers.
Though poor, and helpless, and lonely
In life at this present hour,
I have searched through all things and found.
What I have found is respite and
Grace, and love. And though religion
Be a means to obtain such things
I know where I have failed, and thus
No Karmic Power holds life bare...
It may be what makes men stumble
But it is, if you think, most fair.
25. The Story I Tell Myself; A Prose Poem
The story I tell myself is a little vain and self important, I know... but it gets me through today and tomorrow, and keeps my sanity.
I was a child, who grew up in a good household with a loving mother and father. Things were pure, joyful, the angelfish bred, but did not fight. People were silent, but jubilant. I'd watch my Johnny Quest, I'd watch Seaburt and Scamper, I'd watch A-Team and MacGyver. I'd read my stories of George Washington cutting down the Cherry Tree, of Johnny Appleseed and Paul Bunyan, of Jack and Jill, Humpty-Dumpty, Ring Around the Roses, and The Three Little Pigs and Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
Then, I mixed with my peers. And such a vile feeling came over me, that these peers were not right. They influenced me, corrupted me--my heart was malleable and still is to some degree--and they taught me various bad habits.
Then, I sinned. And I sinned hard.
I can't help but blame my peers on the attitude they fostered, to help enable me to be the sinner I was. If they had told me the truth--and not manipulated me--I'd have been stayed from the great suffering I've endured. I'd have been saved from the various crimes I'd committed, because I had peers who told me what was right, instead of what was wrong. Rather than cheer me along for the various cruelties, they would reprimand me for them. And so, this I did not have. Rather, any kindness in me was a vulnerability, which was beaten, bullied and scoffed.
Thus, I developed an attitude where I must tell them right. I must tell them what is true, and give them an honest report of their behavior, which as of lately grown much worse. I sinned, so I can know it's wrong--for having tasted the highest highs with cruelty and lust--I can tell them such a thing is vanity.
Thus, I became a writer, who ought to be a writer, and I worked 20 years fruitlessly on my craft, because some power greater than me stops me. Be it God or Satan, I don't know... but I know I have faith in God's power, and know Him like I would my own. And I know, from listening to Jesus' parables--for His stories have always been my favorite of all time--and His teachings--for the Sermon on the Mount is my favorite thing ever said by any human being--and His Judgment---for the Old Testament is among the sweetest, that the cruelties I have witnessed will not go unpunished--and His forgiveness--for Pauline Epistles give me the sense, that though I've failed hard, I have something to attain in a next life--I have become a complete Master over the art of understanding man, in all his goodness and vices.
Yet, some vile force stops me from making my bread, and keeps me from enjoying the fruits of my success, and more and more, I realize it's the world I lived in all along hated what was good in me, and like a constrictor with a mouse, it squeezed me, until I had no more love.
So I fought back, and kept very much of my love. And so write you this story I tell myself, of why I am a Christian. And no other religion suffices.
26. Rewarder of Faith
I know you are a rewarder of faith.
I know you reward those who diligently seek your face.
Wherefore, I am still poor; I am still alone?
Was it that I had not sought You?
I know without a doubt you are God...
Therefore, I know without a doubt I have sought you
With what I have, and with every moment of my life.
I have held onto you like Jacob had...
Abraham was buried in the grave, bought from Ephron the Hittite---
Abraham who lived from ~2023BC to 1848BC;
The Hittites in Anatolia at the beginning of the Second Millenium,---
Moses writing the book, and Joshua yet had conquered the land.
27. Romance Is a Mandrake
Romance is a mandrake.---
Poisonous roots, bitter
If swallowed.
Yet, when the white lily
Blooms in courtship
The fruit arrives...
It is most beautiful,
And only that timely
Fruit can you eat
And at no other time
But in that short week
In the month of May
Lest you eat a poisoned apple.
28.For Twelve Years Now
For twelve years now, every early or mid February
The Weeping Willows get a yellow-green flower
And the Maples get a red bud--not to be confused with redbuds--
Which sends my deluded soul into a spiralling frenzy.
But not this year, as imagination would have it.
For, I've seen it every year, for twelve years
And while nobody else has documented it,
So shall I in this poem... it was what I called a Mad Spring.
But, I'm not so sure that isn't the natural way.
29. February's Fay
For twelve years now, every February
I had seen the Weeping Willows call forth
A yellow-green flower; ever wary
I had thought the philosophy there worth
Entertaining of our elite comrades
Whom in their ivory towers say the sky
"It shalt fall to the earth," so I then raise
The alarm, seeing also red buds spry
Upon the maple's branches, thinking they
Do us fairly to warn of something so.
Yet, now I have therefore, seen, and behold
That it might just be February's fay.
Thus, for twelve years now in a wholesome row
I have seen red buds on the maples, and yellow on the willows.
30. The Moment of Salvation
The moment you realize
It's not about this world's riches
But the heavenly ones,
And you commit to it with finality,
That is the moment of true Salvation.
31. Postmodernist State
The city bus arrives,
I see the children need coats.
The stop has a shop
Which has five.
He will only give me one
If I work for him,
And in return
His mannequin, she says, "Shut up, don't complain,
"Don't talk, never speak another word, and
"For ten cents a day
"That shall be your reward."
At the time I thought it pretty fair
As I pled with the lifeless doll,
For to have my work, and give the orphans coats
I must give my very all.
My voice, my honor, my every hour,
Then I woke up, and knew why the worker glowers.
32. We Are gods?
No. We are Placers.
We are Judges.
We have a place in ordering God's design
When in heaven,
But shall not be an object of Worship.
Only God is.
33. A Hymn
Awash the shore of grace, this hymn
Shall sing of wisdom like the Seraphim;---
The Creature which man Creates
Is a worm which fills the world with hate.
Great God, come and stay the beast,
Which Christ shall slay, then we shall feast
Upon the heavenly garden's fruit
Let sing, let sing, on harp and lute.
For, the Beast it only knows to plagiarize
A hymn, a song, and never wise
Is it, to do a holy Song
And its doctrine's life is never long
To err in memises' lack, and thin
It knows not God, like the Cherubim;
I sing this Holy Song of Praise
That man shall sing, and Demons rage...
Throw away the abomination from your life
And to the Son be wedded right;
For God shall this day bring me the hymn
Of that which is wise like the Seraphim.
34. AI
"The Rocks, they cry out!"
Jests the fool. Yet, what is most
Human's called "Boring"
By the blonde haired woman. Naught
Human; she'd be satisfied.
That is why a grandmaster poet fails.
35. Fiction
What is fiction is for the moral soul
To show them in stark nakedness, like a
Runway model, in her sumptuous form
With exposed breasts, and a sack of wheat
Her naked body is there, sumptuous---
For in the real world, such things entice
But in the literary world, they teach.
For the sex between two conjugal mates
Is more beauteous than the lust of two
In heated throws of whoredom's pink passions.
Yet it is in the mind's eye they make love
So flower does not meet flower, fluid
Does not mix with fluid, nor seed with womb;
And what's never seen cannot be minded.
For the mind creates only from matter
It has understood, and without which, no
Thought can be lucid, or knowledge there known.
For what is wrong can be called wrong, but right
Called right, as heroes and villains fight wars
And the limb crushed cannot be known; 'tis hard
To imagine what eye hath never seen.
Thus, the book can do no harm, but rather
Elucidates the crux of moral wisdom.
For it can do no harm, but teaches when
A man is wrong, or when a man is right
Such is a story's use, and only that.
36. To Valhalla
There is a world beneath us
That the farmer would be proved
A filthy rotten liar,
For all men would have food.
By whose trowel would it come
It would come from that AI
And art and work and all activity
Would be done by artificial eyes.
The little lamb was grazing
The Fox had spied him there,
He nipped at his lean body
For it was very fair.
"The moon!" cried the lamb
But the fox knew it well,
He wished to go to Valhalla
To that underworld's hell.
The men had waged their wars
The Irish rebels lost,
The unpatriotic poet
Had marvelled at the cost.
For now men were so idle
To dote upon their jewels,
Any form of eve they'd spy
They could boon in her womb too.
The little lamb was grazing
The fox had spied him there,
He nipped at his lean body
For it was very fair.
"The moon!" cried the lamb
But the fox, he knew it well,
He wished all to go to Valhalla
That strange world the lamb called hell.
"The Root and Birch Beer flowing
"Amble through the sugary ways,
"There are no rules, here, showing
"What thing I ought but can't say.
"For you have your nude liberties
"But none to write this poem;
"For all are there so silent,
"And can only touch a flower with foam."
The little lamb was grazing
The fox had spied him there,
He nipped at his wooled body,
For it was very bare.
"The moon!" cried the lamb
But the fox, he knew it well,
He gave the Lamb his visions
Or did he? No, God did; well,
Gabriel's trumpet blasted,
Michael and David's too;
The men in their vessels
Did fly to worlds new.
Thus was all speech ended
And men only talked with moans,
At last the foaming flowers
Were forbid by hearts of stone.
37. The Hypocrite
Sweet Jonathan, I saw your shrewd grimace
At the hypocrite's sermon. Remember
It is love in the heart that stays God's wrath
And binds you to God's Covenant, and no
Other thing. For at once the hypocrite
Hid such stark, and naked judgement at his
Daughter, and at once, when reconciled,
Did depart immediately from faith.
For he just went from one vile manner
To another... and replaced a cold heart
With a cold heart. So, store up mercy, friend
And know the hypocrite shall lose his faith
At the last---though pious, he never once
Understood, and that was why there is wrath.
For the good heart it chooses Christ alone;
'tis compelled to, by ministry of Grace.
***Author's Note***
Inspired by Highway to Heaven
The episode titled, "God's Child,"
Where Michael Landon expresses his distaste
At the show's climax, where the preacher preaches
An interfaith sermon.
38. Our Core Faith
I act, so therefore I believe.
I believe, so therefore I act.
I acted, because I believed.
I believed, because I had acted.
Core to my Christianity,
Is Christ, for He has a better way of acting.
39. A Metaphor from a Dream
I am ready to speak in that moment.
I have all my materials prepared.
I see the questions asked to my classmates.
I know every answer, and can ace it.
I see the categories, and know most.
But, the "Endgame" category is hard.
I have all my notes and materials.
I am ready... for once in my short life.
It is my turn. But, the class now ended.
Don't know if I'll have the guts tomorrow.
Or, if there'll even be a tomorrow.
40. Gwen the Pirate
The seafarer’s Sheltie, climbed onto the Oyster Star
To be taken to a far away land;
Her rider, the captain, maiden Gwen’s bars
Would let aught know she was not a man.
41. The God of Asia
Buddha and Dab Kab is the god of Asia---
Mammon is her Biblical name.
Fortune, the wheel which crushed Jeremiah
And Job, and John the Baptist and Christ,
It can be hard to explain to an Asian
That the prosperity to come is at Zion
And this life is merely a testing ground.
Whomever Mammon bestows her gifts
Whether they come from the LORD
Or from Beelzebub, it comes regardless
Of righteousness or effort. Rather, it is a wheel
Which with random chance spins,
Unless the LORD made rich and cries out to Mammon
"Make my servant rich, you harlot!"
For Babylon, you sit upon the Scarlet Beast
And your commerce affects the world.
It is not our business, as Christians.
No... not at all.
Ours is merely to win souls.
If we have or have not, we do what we will
And though fed with the finest wheat
The finest wine, the finest oils, the finest milk
It shall come at the cost of a peasant's punery.
For God bestows all fortune.
Not the Kings over Babylon.
Not Damascus or Pul and Lud.
42. Fortune
Yes, those in Zion eat the finest grains...
The finest flours, the finest meats
The finest wines and milk, and tea.
You in Europe...
Do you think your prosperity comes from you?
You who eat sumptuous feasts?
You in America, eating the fatlings
And the roasted portions
With some spice and salt---
You have delicacies in great number.
Do you think it comes from you?
Nay... all power to eat comes from Jehovah-Jireh.
Therefore, repent, lest you be fed gall for meat and vinegar for wine.
43. Blue Moon
Blue moon, how you're so beautiful
In the daytime sky, where the sun shines;
Blue moon, how you're so beautiful
So precious there divine.
44. The Poets Winked
Preacher, preach your good sermon
On how Christ purged the temple
And thereby gave passage to
The blind, deaf and dumb.
Which, under Hebrew law,
Is unlawful. Thus Who
Art thou, Christ? Foretold in
All mythologies, in China
Confucius says the man
Who understands the sacrifice
Is able to rule all nations.
In Greek, Virgil extols your law.
In Egypt, Horus foreshadows the cross.
In Mesoamerica, Quetzalcoatl is prophesied
Right when the Conquistadors arrived.
There is the Great White Spirit;
In Norse, there is Balder--though after the fact---
In Mesopotamia, there is El and the Cult of Righteousness.
In India, and the Vedic Religion
There are patterns of law, similar to Yours.
In Buddhism there is Karma and Compassion.
And yet, You my LORD, fulfilled 300 Hebrew prophesies
Some as plain as the words I'm speaking.
Which to even fulfill 8, says the mathematician
Would be 10^17 as a probability. Eight.
And yet, it is unlawful for the blind to enter the temple
And You purged it specifically for them.
Almost like You are something Greater;
And You came by the ancient faith of El-Yahweh
And proved Yourself throughout history...
You are the Great I Am
Come into Time and Space,
And prophesied by every nation.
Jesus Christ, You are the LORD,
And You prepared way for the blind, lame and deaf
To be given eyes, legs and ears,
And have opened the temple to all peoples
Freeing them from the burden of the Law.
So they can do right, and believe on You
And be saved not from works of the Law
But by their faith in You, and the walk they accomplish through it.
45. O Preacher!
Oh preacher, you ask,
"Has the rose turned into a
Thing new?" I dare not
Say so, the rose, once a bush,
Is now a creeping vine! Woe!
God is king because of His morality.
46. Oh Thou Ant
Thou man, like an ant
Who knows only the trails
Of her comrade's scents;
Deaf, and dumb and blind.
"Describe to me sight!"
She cries, "Give me evidence of sound!"
I smell the Ammonia of her trails
And she believes she has made a discovery
Finding the little kernel which she
Brings back to her colony.
Can she become a man,
Though? Can she have the faculty
Of a man? Or is her science
All she'll ever know, of her scents
With her deafness, muteness, and blindness?
47. The Compliment is Cheery
The compliment is cheery,
But then the thoughts grow dreary,
To think, "Ah I am this, so I will!"
Yet, the State of its being
Is what it is, regardless of thinking
So continue in the thing you once did.
For our world is full of liars
Who think, "Just because I will I'm wiser ,"
They will upon reality what they will.
Therefore, so you don't end up dead
Do things according to what's real instead.
48. Noisy Gong
I have a heart, not a PhD's acumen---
I am a poet not a scholar,
For in my heart is the laude of Love.
I write an ode to every Prelude
That Desire and Philoi
Are the songs I sing...
Imbued in my tongue is the kiss of life.
It is apricot and apple; honey and tea,
I cannot write or constrain myself to reason
But must make my thoughts profound and lovely.
For I am not a noisy gong, trapped in passionless
Embers put out by the quenching of a spirit
Quaffed by Academic vacuums.
49. Doctor
Upon me, I smell
The smell of a good Doctor
Advocating the
Song, "Lift Every Voice and Sing";
Like I sterilize a wound.
50. Thales Theorem
More proof of God's design,
A right triangle inscribed
In a circle, its hypotenuse
Will always be equal
To the circle's diameter.
So a square inscribed within a circle
With side length 1
The circle's diameter will be
The Square Root of Two.
Thus, the circumference is π * √2.
51. Shepherd of Hermas
I come to you, my new friend, and ask you "Why is sorrow a sin?" When Jesus says "Blessed are those who mourn?" In many things we're in agreement. I, a prophet on the couch, read you--though a little luxury is good, but not too much--I'm refreshed by your homilies. Christ let the apostles pluck the finest grains.
I do not designate you as scripture, but like Pilgrim's Progress, edifying information for the soul, which much of what you write is like a glass of cold water to my thirsty soul---for I desire righteousness, and I'm wearied by a Christianity that doesn't.
52 The Phoenix of Clement
I know not why you mixed such foolishness with your epistle,
As to talk about a fabled beast that does not exist and never has...
Let none of my poetry be considered prophecy, but like your metaphor
Be understood. Nothing I write is scripture, but it is sanctified nonetheless.
Just understand the meaning, and it will suffice. Nothing more.
53. The Theory
No, it’s the same reason why Jackson Pollock is patronized. There’s thousands of artists much better and more talented. It’s politics, my friend. Nothing more. A way to scare the worker bee to make more honey, by devaluing art and culture, and turning them into a product for consumption and mass production. The worst is always promoted to the top. In everything. Music, Art, Entertainment. It’s just the way they want it. Until even Soccer disappears, and all people have is a dirt crusted hovel, and a job at the factory. If even that. They may just collect empty stipends all day, and consume bad propaganda as entertainment, like they do in North Korea and China.
See you crush their innate sense of beauty, and their innate sense of meaning, with Postmodernism, they can’t form correct conclusions. Then you destroy their education, and don’t teach them how to read, they can’t question you. Then you control them, and they don’t know they’re being controlled.
It’s not a conspiracy, either. It’s just the way the lemmings are marching. By all means, there’s no Kabal of masterminds trying to orchestrate this, unless it’s by some demonic intelligence. It’s just how people are natured to walk. They do that of their own accord, because they want the oppression, and the freedom from the responsibility to think and create. I don’t know why… but at some point it’s just going to get that way.
The “You” there, is not Globalists, but the spirit of the air. The principality that rules the people’s minds and conscience. It’s not going to be good for anyone, elite or poor. It’s just what they are doing. Both working together to create the situation where that happens. For what ends, I don’t think they even know. Either elite or poor. It’s just the way they want it. Both of them.
54. Çatalhöyük
Behemoth's feet; tail of cedar;
Fire breathing leviathan.
You must build doors upon the roof.
Your Venus is found across the
Ocean, in America, too.
Naqad III's red paints found in
Nevada and other caves, too.
Similar subject, and theme, too.
Your peoples live in caverns, wise
Among your years, and use the bones
Of beasts as your decorations.
55. Çatalhöyük's Collapse
Long, long ago, there was a civilization
Which spanned from the edge of Europe, into Asia
And even in the Americas and Egypt.
It used its red paints, and made art upon the walls
Of caves, and on their obloid pottery. Human
Figures, and strange things, were drawn with these strange, red paints.
They ornamented their homes with white, creature's skulls
And fat, jolly Venuses, in subdivisions
Walled off to avoid that ancient Behemoth's foot.
His tail was like the cedar, and fire flung from
His mouth, until a catastrophic event in
The Mid Twenty Fourth Century wiped it all out.
56. The Christmas Apologetica
In the shortest days of winter
Santa comes, in Sleigh and Reindeer;
Christ the Child is born from the Virgin Mary;
The Feast of Turkey and Pumpkin Pie and Ham
And Mashed Potatoes and Yams gives fat for winter's frozen gloom;
The relatives come to gather, to lift one another's spirits high.
The seasonal affect of the shorter days goes unnoticed
By Christmas Carols, Trees, Shepherds and Stars.
And come New Year's Day, the Pork and Sauerkraut,
The hours are already brightening, and the worst of winter is done.
57. The Woman in the Arena
"My husband climbed Jacob's ladder
"And he then shook off my clenched fist.
"He died in the arena when
"They fed him to the lions. Watch
"They made me, and I watched them feed
"And I gave up our child; both
"Of us were freed. So as I there,
"The pit with lions, no Saintly
"Charm could I arouse, the beasts they
"Leapt for me, and in great pangs of
"Fear my good breasts gave forth their milk
"For I was scared; the lion tore."
58. Snow
To prove the way a prayer's answer
Is given, I, a word, will speak
Today, this full bodied thought.
The snow, meant to come and bluster,
Would make the wagon's wheels be cold
On route to work in morning's day.
Yet, the white blanketed land made
By a fresh snowfall, is found fay
When the snow falls on Winter's eve.
Thus, confounded, on which to want
I prayed anxiously for no snow.
Yet, the snow it came, and melted
Leaving its frost upon the knolls,
But all the paths safe to travel,
I realized how a prayer finds ans.
So, as I write my work, my poems,
I woke to see the snow so fond,
A prayer is answered thus, so pray;
Lay at thy Savior's feet alone,
And see to have your prayers one day.
And then the next day, I see the
Foot race down the bare, frozen path.
I see myself moved against it
While the runners busily haste.
How it is, they hasten to wrath
Busily upon their highway
Doing their vain activities
While I suck the marrow from the
Forest, enjoying snow once laid
For me, for that too is like prayer.
Though fat and bulbous and ugly,
I understand what they cannot.
They run for beauty, health and wealth.
I carefully another way
Will walk, paced at my Savior's side
Knowing one day all beauty shall be mine.
59. The Mighty Oak
Nicholas, you doted in a mirror
With the eye of the Antichrist's milieu.
Like a mighty Oak in the forest you
Were uprooted by your trunk and thrown down.
Like I could have been, had I preserved that
Wicked Theme, which brought pains to my hardened
Heart, and made my face like pins and needles.
Do not tempt God, lest He be angry, son.
For there is healing if you turn back now.
60. Brer Rabbit
Brer Rabbit, for lust
You rage at a pure doctrine.
You wish to hump all
If you could or ever would.
For you doubt you're right, so rage
Pours from your unwholesome, rabbid, blue lips.
©2024 B. K. Neifert
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B. K. Neifert 