Opal Steeples B. K. Neifert Copyright © 2022 B. K. Neifert All rights reserved. DEDICATION This work is dedicated to Christian. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many acknowledgments are given to the numerous poets who've written on the Character I've come to moniker as Death. Such notable poets as Billy Joe, John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, T. S. Eliot, Byron, Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth, and most notable of all, Hosea and Solomon. Also, acknowledgments are given to Jung and Freud, whose theories--though likely incompatible on a pedantic level---as a whole, provide endless synthesis for my poetry. And to my Schizoaffective Disorder, which finds this elusive character everywhere, and most notably in my dreams. And finally to Zion, a Beautiful Woman, a Beautiful City. It seems like the core of this book is a contrast between Death and Heaven. Aphorism 1: When a truly beautiful maid arrives at the party, the mirth grows still. Aphorism 2: A lie is more visceral than truth, because it is simpler to comprehend. Aphorism 3: The ugliest thing about our modern age... every guttural reaction to beauty is confused with lust. Aphorism 4: People who deny Jesus will be judged by Moses’ standard. Aphorism 5: I see nothing more fair, than that God redeem us from Moses’ “Laws which were not good.” Aphorism 6: Be judged by Moses’ law, if you think Jesus died for nothing. Aphorism 7: I have nothing more to write. Sure, I can still write. But, I have nothing more to write. Aphorism 8: Conclude nothing from a liar; their lies only multiply conclusions because it nullifies Vacuous Truth. Aphorism 9: Good poetry never claims to be true, so it contains Vacuous Truth and sound conclusions may be drawn from it. Aphorism 10: Christ is our bread. Feed and be nourished, so you are able to do what's good. 1. The Two Trees Meet “I love you,” Said the Olive Tree To the Fig Tree. The Olive pined And said, “O, our Brother “Was nailed to me!” The Fig replied, “Oh, my darling, “My beauteous friend, “God cursed me, “When leaving the city “I was dead.” The Olive spoke, “My fruit is savory, “And yours are sweet; “Embrace me, “With our bark spliced, “Let us bring forth “Something new!” The Fig Spake, “Yes, our curséd fruit “Could bear something “New; yet, it is “Unlawful!” The Olive lamented, “Yes! For you are “A Fig tree, cursed, “And I an Olive, “For we are from “Two different bloodlines!” The Fig Entwined with The Olive; they created A fruit of life! 2.Ferguson's Giant Soul Ferguson, Mac Moghcun, There was Queen Maev! Who you rose upon your Armies, Red King, and Spent your arms Destroying her, who Fought valiantly. With your bag of dreams, You took my poesy, Raped my beloved, Love-talker. Curséd Fig, you spin Having heaved your Sighs for one hour; in dreams Maev and Ferguson Are at war Shaking the worlds; I, I await you here; while the Titans clash and Rend the times. We shall cling: Brush off your Spider's webs! I wish to seed you In the soil, anew! 3. Zion's Soil Beloved, I have seen Captivity! I have worn chains. I have sinned. The King's hair is raven- Black. he is comely and beautiful, Dark eyed, Yet your desire is for me. he, the beauty of an Archangel, he, at war with Maev--- The heavens shake As angels war with giants. The wiseman questions: My chains are those Which shackle the Earth. You have sighed underneath Him, in the weaving Of dreams. My seed is good. It awaits fertile soil. Unbound the cursed And unlock my chains With your skin. 4. Confession Queen Maev, if I were Ferguson With my bag of dreams I would throw myself into The sea;---and like Prometheus Said to the Southern King, I should drown myself. Yet, with my Giant Soul Enlarged, when Solomon Said to Death, that he Would give him a device, That night I prayed On the way to my corridors. “Let me not have “Taken the cup of wrath, “But let me prophesy “him, and like Jacob “Steal the father's blessing!” So I dreamt. 5. Child, Touch Another World The child's heart within all Feels so much larger than it actually is. It feels like all laws bend to its will, That it is of a greater importance Than the Great Pyramids, Than the Mythic Stonehenge, Than the Swirling Milky Way, Than the Eiffel Tower, Than Democracy, Than Free Speech, Than Patriotism, Than History. The child within all feels like the creator of all worlds. It feels so important, Like a king, Like it were great at every which thing. A great skier, A great chess player, A great teacher, A great writer, A great builder, A great artist, A great singer, A great champion and hero. The child in all believes itself to be great... It feels entitled to all good treatment. It feels as if the world revolves around them. I don't know how we ever grow up... I look at people, in their self importance, And I find each one a world swirls around their minds, I can tap into it by listening to their words. I can feel their feelings, know their thoughts By the words they speak, and the mien they imbue. I can know them, and so can you. Yet, not many care to know them. Not many care to look at the dramatic obelisk of Other As a friend once wrote in a poem about a man named David. That there are obstacles hindering us, People, places and things. I look at myself, and my wisest thoughts Came from other minds much wiser than mine. It came from listening, from tasting, From touching, from smelling, Through the descriptive tense Of another's words. Not my taste, not my touch, Not my smell, but my ear. The greatest pieces of wisdom Came from the greatest adversaries. For, I could poke holes right through them When I became undaunted by their words. When it became interesting. In practical matters I still feel there are foolish men--- Yet, they find a more practical lifestyle than I do. And I feel their swirling world as they speak--- It is offensive. It soon becomes my world A swirling kaleidoscope of thoughts and inventions. I've learned to embrace it, for such is their freedom And such is mine. Yet, my brother told me today, "Do not seek to persuade me." Can democracy flourish without persuasion? My inner child likes to reach out and touch other worlds But it often gets burnt. Thus, it still reaches, It still touches, it pries into the deepest held beliefs. Politely, I can have a conversation with a woman On Dharma, and she enjoy it. Yet, her husband---for he ought to be by now--- Scolds her, offends her, doesn't listen. "Buddhism is more optimistic." I agree, it's not the torments of Caste systems. But, really, there must be something better after this life, Than having to live it all over again. What cruel deity swirls us in this cosmos for eternity? Hell is a comfort to me, for there is no wisdom there. No activity. No planning. Meaning, no thought. For, with thought There is wisdom. Hell seems less cruel Than tormenting someone on Earth Over and over again, With a reincarnation of past lives Rejuvenating and swirling like the Milky Way. That is immoral. And at last, it is simply to die? I cannot believe death is the sum of life's choices. I believe there must be more. I'd lose hope, if all I had to look for Was another life like this. Yet, her thoughts are interesting, And he---very sure of himself--- Tells me I upset her. Something tells me she was telling the truth That it was not me. Rather, I live to listen... Do not be offended if I cannot agree, But that is core to our freedom Even to have heated arguments. If I could not persuade, If I could not gain access to the worlds which swirl around me, I would be despaired, and lonely. I would be, as the Woke Mob wishes me to be, A solipsist, constantly reassuring himself with his own thoughts. And there I would be, no one to challenge me Suffering in the hell I created for myself By telling someone I thought was wrong to, "Shut up." Offense is necessary in a free society. For, in a free society, we are free to share our worlds With one another, and burdened though we be, The child within us touches the scalding, red-hot Iron of another's world---if we cannot sway them to ours Or be swayed to theirs, then there is no freedom. I know it burns. But, there is no better joy any other way. 6. The Scent of a Rose The scent of roses, Unlike all other flowers, Is a form bred from Horticultured, white florets Which smell like honeysuckle. 7. The Sarsoodledom The Satrap of the Sardoodledom Sat, calling all art Kitsch. Save, it was writhing with fear, or sex Or it idealized crime and perverts. He, wisely? was called Athena, And ruled his Sardoodledom With an iron fist. Nothing good could be made, Save what was a Sardoodle In his Sardoodledom. 8. Evidence A Biblical Timeline of Evidence Corroborating Scripture: Unknown – Flood myths appear on every continent and in every ancient civilization, including the Americas, which would be impossible, had not the Flood actually happened. 1950bc - The Lipit-Ishtar, which has a law on it, number 27, that Abraham followed with Hagar, that God told him to ignore. Abraham corresponds to this in the Genealogical record. 1750bc - We see the influence of Abraham on the laws of Mesopotamia, in the Hammurabi's Code, where some of the Hebrew laws in the Torah are first found. Which is likely, also, the reason Sumerian Legends contain Biblical material, was an original source penned by Abraham. 1420bc - The Temple of Soleb has the name of Yahweh inscribed in Egyptian Hieroglyphs, and shows Bound Hebrew Slaves on the Pillars, making mention of the fact that the Israelites were wanderers in the land of Egypt before they were enslaved. 1330bc - The Cult of Aten begins, which corresponds with Moses in the Genealogies. The Cult of Aten was an unexpected conversion to Monotheism by the Pharaoh of Egypt, which likely occurred as a result of the miracles performed by Moses. Also, Moses' genealogical record lines up right with it. 18th Egyptian Dynasty – Egyptian Chariot spokes are found off the coast of Nuweiba beach, and many more like pieces remain under the Red Sea. 1250bc - Joshua's Altar. In Joshua's Altar there are Kosher animal ashes, along with the lead tablet described by the book of Joshua, and it is situated at the rear face of mount Ebal. It is even in the pattern of a Jewish Altar, with ramps instead of steps. Also found at the same dig site are mentions of King Hezekiah (Circa 790bc) and Jeremiah (Circa 600bc). 1050bc - A fragmented clay artefact is found in Khirbet Qeiyafa, containing Hebrew Mnemonic verses and the Tetragrammaton, of interpretive transcriptions of the law. On the pot, it talks about being charitable to slaves, and judging them mercifully, and a rebuke against idolatry. 840bc - Tel Dan Stele records the death of King Jehoram, and reveals that he is from the HouseDavid---a Portmanteau of the Dynasty's Heraldry. 597bc - The Nebuchadnezzar Chronicles are a direct reference to the Jewish Captivity, of Babylon sacking Jerusalem. Ezekiel had already been taken captive, along with Israel, therefore, the captivity had already begun. Ezekiel records the Sack of Jerusalem and how bad it will be. As well as Jeremiah the Prophet. 537bc - Edict of Cyrus, which records the restoration of the Jews back to Israel. 100bc – The Great Isaiah scroll was transcribed, and still has the prophecy of Isaiah 53, detailing how a man's soul must be offered as a sin offering. Predating Christ by at least 130 years. 31ad – Christ sweats blood, and dies of a heart attack. The Gospel record shows Christ sweating blood, a condition called hematohidrosis, which happens because of severe stress, and also a heart attack, when His side was punctured with the spear, water flowed from the wound. Which is from a pustule sack developed around the heart during Pre-Cardiac Arrest. 31ad – Under the Emperor Guangwu, of the Latter Han Dynasty, there is record of the Darkening of the Sun which happened for three hours during the Crucifixion. In the records, twice it is declared, “A man has died for the sins of all the people. Man from heaven died.” 9. The Playlist I start this journey, A two year old boy. I learn my dad's stereo system Having watched him do it before. Some day love will find me, As the opening synths sends me on My new life's road. Then, driving through the woods And over the river, To grandmother's house I go. About to slip down, I'm so excited to swim. Life is about fun, and I'm too tired for work; Play is everything at this time in my life. We listen to the oldies radio, the whole car ride, Sitting in another traffic jam. Seventeen, sweet emotion fills me, Pleasure filled fantasies of sex To Two Unlimited and Rock and Roll... The beginning of my career as a writer, With pornographic prose and an honest to truth love story. I find my woman with a face like a gent. Her daddy says I took it a little too far. My car, I ramble about for years, First with my androgynous mate, And then with my friends; Going here, there, the summer of fun And violence. I try to make my living, But, I'm a rambling man. Rambling on and on, talking mostly nonsense. My car is my pride and joy... You don't know what I got; I rev my Malibu beside the car Of infernos---there my sister almost died. My stereo bumps, overshadowed by woofers In the hopped up Coupe. Barrel Rolls, broken hips and brain tissue. Recovering, Johnny comes to me And makes a deal--- He's in a bind, and I take the dare. Thus, he sings of the Devil's Kitchen And I sing of the Snowy Abode. He sings of a Welsh Prince, And I sing of our LORD and King; My mountain is taller. I then meditate on the sweetest wisdom... To be a man, simple and humble. To search for love, and not be lonely in this world. It was always my song, my very first song, But straying from it all these years, I realize the fantasy was not enough. Then the trial of every Christian comes; The fornication with the worldly device. My captivity, my mission, They scream what I spoke to her in the closet On the rooftops. They know my every secret thought, They turn my life into a spectacle. It happens. Everybody's been there;--- Information's inebriation. Then the music dies. Censorship grows... My movie begins... This will be the day that I die--- I wrote the book of love, I have faith in God above And what the Bible tells me,---so, I believe my music can save the soul. Now I go, walking down the street. I get funny looks from everyone I meet. For my youthful offense I am stained with distrust, and dirty looks. Everywhere I go, a look of shame appears On the faces of all around me... All know my sin, All know my shame... I look for work in the city, But can find none. I ride the Pride of the Susquehanna. People on the river are happy to give me their time, To listen. I wander here, there, looking for an answer To my disgrace and poverty. I have no money, Wandering the streets, shamefully. In my music, I drift away... Writing my odes of blaspheming kings, Doppelgangers, witches, Dragons and satyrs, True Love and advanced civilizations. I get lost in my creativity... I get lost in the rhythms of my Playlist, waiting for when I fall in love. Then I see her face. I started thinking love was simply a story I wrote... A beautiful thing I kept on my keys. A fairytale like my kings and queens. But, I saw her face once more, And there was no trace of doubt. My first I gave all, and got nothing. Now, the face of sunshine makes me believe in love again. I, the loser of losers, Fell in love with the Homecoming Queen; And she loved me. I believed in my dreams. She said to me, "Do you, you, feel like I do?" And for life's longest season, We made time for loves. Life returned to the simplicity of childhood. The pure, exalted joy of youth prevailed; Life was good again... It was like sitting at the Kokomo, Listening to a steel drum band. She and I reclined, filled and old as the songs I listened to as a child. At the end of life, I blessed Jesus, and said, "This life was just alright with me." And I drifted off to sleep one day, And woke up someplace else; Someplace better. 10. The Blue Moth I walk, Succor the green,--- The Mauve, centimeter wide, Opal butterfly Flutters with The lethargy Of a newly created thing. It lands, so delicately Upon the arch of my peach Foot, between the sandal strap And my cuffed, mud-stained Jeans. 11. The Hard Stuff The dragonflies are numerous, The biting flies are few. Upon the paths of Pinchot I consider the words of you. “Slavery is a grievous sin “Which thy God has sanctioned,” True. But the Law of Moses, my friend, By Jesus's been made moot. How know'th you, If by the Heathen made a slave, God may save the Unbeliever, And give them life in Zion all days? The War for Canaan was furious, Blood spilt, from man to child, Yet could it be they were corrupted Rapist, murderer, pedophiles? Thus, ought God not have slain them And use the Holy Book, To judge this world's Chaos Whom Jesus, they all forsook? 12. The Geese with their young goslings Wade into the milk lake, Beige;--- With their webbed feet twaddling The little geese with their down Follow in roes, behind their mother goose. Black, slender necks, like a Brachiosaur, Arch, with white patches and yellow eyes. Grey backs, variegated, and black beaks. Peace flows with the Zephyrs Warm light, a perfect comfort. Children play their lawn tennis Cooperating to score high volleys. Birds sing, “Peace!” War and violence bark madly Somewhere---far away is Their mischief. Yet, hear, is peace. 13. Jacob I take my most prized Possession. I give it to Jacob. For exchange, I wished to exchange It for a lie. I come to collect the lie, Yet, for my most prized possession I receive not the lie, For Death has seized upon it. Therefore, I have not a lie; And for that I am grateful. For, I forgave Jacob for His theft, yet had unyielding Mercy. For that I have been forgiven. 14. Twenty-six Quintilian Souls My hope is for my ministry to save Twenty-Six Quintilian souls. One soul for each grain of sand Off Israel's coastline. 15. Job's Journey Job was a good man who hadn't sinned But his friends laid accusations on him. He suffered for heaven's purple mists, And golden roads; its thick, opal towers Of red and green, made with Gold like Jasper Stones, stretched from Earth to the white moon above. Its pearl gates like a mollusk shell Sheened with opalescent, cornflower blues Gradient with whites and silver glean. The City of Zion, twelve-thousand furlongs high, Rise a city on a hill, made with Ruby- Emerald towers, of a worldcity's Width and breadth and height, of thick, miles square base, The towers rise like New York's or Dubai's;--- Looking up at those towers like gazing Upon leaning mountains, tilted toward thou. There Job sat in pastures with boiled hands And pustule growths---from Shingles, lay he bare. His friends upon the green, green grass sat, raw, Telling him things which were never fair. "For youthful sin, he certainly did "For this he must pay the awful price." The blue sky above, and the wooden Cottages, somewhere dappled upon the Landscape, with the livestock white and black, There they lowed, and lorned and men labored While Job sat accused for sin he'd not commit. The five men sat in a circle, saying, "For complaint and sin and bitterness "You know Joseph never laid a mournful Hymn, "For it is sin which is why you suffer," Yet Job knew he suffered for his Bride Wisdom. Beelzebub, a red satyr, with cloven Hooves, and sculptured chest, haunches a furry Ram's, Sat with black and needly, and disfigured Things, with sandstone caverns lit with licking flame. They worked their webs of lies so raw, with blood Drenched from the cavern floors, to the maimed Figures shackled upon the beige walls of hell. There men were crucified, yet not like Christ For they shall never suffer death again! Job thought mightily on these things, how wrong It was for he to suffer for naught he'd done. Yet, the Law's precept came to mind so sweet, "Unrighteous men find Wisdom's demands "To be like that of a contentious bride.--- "Yet listen to her, and make loves to her "And though she rebuke you, at the end is life." 16. The Source I I write, finding on my own The Wisdom of Solomon. I read Sirach and The Wisdom of Solomon And it is like I myself had written it. That is why I know the Apocrypha is not scripture; But that is also how I know my writing is not demonic. It is inspired by wisdom and truth. Should Dante, or Milton, or Austen Or Tolstoy, or Chesterton, or Lewis Be demonically inspired, Then so also my work, for I Magnify God's law. I come to the philosophy of Existentialism Of Epicureanism, of Platonism... I have help attaining to it. But, the arguments of C. S. Lewis I have found, and strengthened. Yes, there is a little voice in my conscience, The same one that lets me know what is right or wrong; It wasn't too long ago, that everyone knew about it. That is gone in so many--- The voice told me to say that. It is not audible, a hallucination, But like a thought, giving me words I sometimes had never known; Other times, like Malapropisms, which I search for the correct one. I claim that none of my writing is scripture. None of it is true, for I am a poet And work within Vacuous Truths. I speak in similitudes. I heard John MacArthur describe Demonically inspired books. My hairs stood up, My heart grew dim. It is not the peace I know. My voice is not a demonic apparition. It is merely the gift of providential utterance; It has told me of things to come; It has worked within the fabric of my fingers true words. If demonically inspired, If propaganda, Would I attest to the Divine Christ? Would I not try to dissuade my reader From believing in an Omnipotent Triune God, Who is the Father, Son and Holy Spirit? Would I say salvation can only come through belief In this Three Personhood of Deity? Would I speak of rest, Or scathe sin in this world? I do not know why my writing does not get published. But, it is certainly not by Demonic forces that I have written it. If The Secret can be published, And the myriads of books Dr. MacArthur talked about, Things too disturbing to retell... Would I be disturbed by it If I myself had written the like? No. Any ghost or supernatural occult thing I would hail And be mystified by. Rather, my words are built to heal and turn the world to repentance. Something much needed in our age of godlessness. Will I triumph? No thing I fear more than losing the relationship I have with Christ. I am willing to be poor and a vagabond if it means retaining my faith. But, should I be unable to retain faith as a poor man, Then let me be rich. If unable as either, Then let me be fed, and clothed, and sheltered And no abomination enter into my soul Nor root of bitterness, nor bark of poison into this soul. II There is an anxiety in me... Having not spoken all. Hail Britannica came by way of a dream--- How I know not. Whether by a worm, or drunken chalice of blood Or by magic I do not know. What I do know, is that I've asked God Many times for an Epic Poem. It is a point of anxiety in me That I do not know how I dreamt it. One night, I dreamt of a blue light coming from my bookshelf; It was my bumpster, but it frightened me. Before I dreamt the story, I remember talking with my friend about it. I remember asking him what my next work would be. Whether these things are true, I do not know. My same friend, I had talked to about the drawer My dad replaced, and this before it had ever broken. I thought he was insane, talking about a broken drawer Which had never broken. Yet, about a year later The drawer broke, and my dad replaced it. I remember talking with him, Whom I hadn't spoken to for weeks. I also remember seeing myself At a bookstore, touching a woman I had made into Elora Wearing the hat I would wear, and the Moccasins I would wear. What comforts me, is in the words of Solomon There is a large family who summoned death. And in Hosea, Death is more prosperous Than his brethren. In my dreams, he saw the King's inner chambers, He made my Epic Poem into a novel--- He even draws me forth to hide his lies. If you must know, he is the inspiration For my Doppelganger. He is the inspiration For my Thirteen Kings... And I have to dream of this nightmare every night. Excuse me for writing about it, For perhaps He is Abaddon himself. All I know is that I clearly remember My friend talking to me about a drawer Being replaced, and lo, the drawer hadn't been replaced. I remember of talking about this year's drought Last year, a year plenteous with rain And there could not be a drought at all. It could just be that I am dreaming these things As the other night I had dream paralysis And could hear a woman's voice taunting me. But, I prayed a weak prayer. I do not think my source is demonic As if it were, I would hide these things from you. I feel like, rather, it is an oppressive force Attacking me, like an army outside of a besieged city, And I must use this intelligence to defeat the enemy. I do not believe I am a god. I do not believe I am perfect. Rather, what I believe is simple... Jesus Christ is the LORD. I ought to follow His ways; And I ought to persuade you to follow Him, too. As any hope for a good life now Requires your belief as well as mine. For, if there is oppression because of sin, My words cannot achieve me the life I desire. And as is told to Israel, "Take with you words." The reason I do not believe I'm demon possessed And that my stories come from Satan Is that I believe they came from God. Not as a means to save the world But simply as a trade comes to any man Who is an expert at the craft. Through providential guidance. And perhaps I have an interesting story to tell. 17. Violet Sky I could be white I could be light I could be righteous and free; Though the tyrants, Who are so violent Wish violet, the welkin to ring. 18. Logos Where have you gone? Babble is brought to dust; The nations are cast abroad. Where are our common stories? Where is Jack and Jill And Peter Pumpkin Eater? Where is Robin Hood The Grinch, Paul Bunyan And Persuasion? With what does man share or gain Knowledge? By knowledge, The root of wisdom is cast abroad. The flowers and birds And woodland creatures Are known by few... The Ecology is detailed to gross Minutia, while the Eggplant a berry And the Berry is naught. We riot over controversy And have outlawed truth. Men speak their own burdens And by their own burdens None do listen... A white background And a man in the foreground Strives to find eternal truths... Yet none are to be found. Music is terse chords, Guttural phrases, The monotone sung over A simple, three note melody. Poetry is vapid, Novels are simple, Yet math is invented; Not discovered. As a wise scholar spake'th, Babble's tower is fallen And collapsed to ruinous dust. No man or woman receives justice; And for equity's sake all are treated unequal. The child is snatched from the parent's home And castrated, fed hormones like a slaughtering animal, And fundamentally altered and neutered Before she knows how to count. The Logos is destroyed; None can comprehend or interpret the wise and ancient and dark truths. All is impossible, and all sayings spoken Are the lie we ourselves create. We disperse it abroad, We fallow the rows of the next generation To watch the sandstorms tower miles high And consume the cities... For, no science can be agreed upon, The solve to the world's problems are doubted Simple things we see, and then say there is no proof. Yet, the problem is there is too much proof, And we wish to be the horse drawing the carriage Blinded, and seeing only what is in front. Noone knows truth. Not one. I write my poetry in this century--- Yet, I am all alone. 19. The Pearl Sterling Ye sodomous witches Writhe---hate ye love For hate the truth ye do. Ye summoned death With combined might; Ephemeral powers sprung forth. "We hate the Christian "Because he set bad example for all..." When or withal, when I was but a lad Did you not revel on our revelry And succor every kiss? Then, when he had change of heart Then, only then, did you pounce? For you loved his sumptuous face And desired his perfect form... Then, he laid with virgins And hurled the cruel abuses. Yet, 'twas when he grew kind; Only then did you hate him And claim he set bad example. Then, at last, you queens and kings, You portioned your might to destroy. You bargained, and bartered, And sought to warp the world to your wicked Worldview. Have the world. Yet, you wish to wreck me And cause me a shameful death. Doth thou yet hear the voices? Doth the Satanic screams fill your domiciles? At last, they shall And I will have revenge by the LORD's mighty arm. "From where?" I may die... But, at least I will be at eternal rest. You... you shall live in the hell you summoned forth. "Death!" you cried, "Come forth," And he did, to dance on your graves. 20. Amonotheum Zion, with your perfect face, Ample breast, and scarlet hair: Tall, yet perfect enough for a kiss, My changeling has held you In his dream, with your pink Areola;---and a degenerate Man wanted to share in your Flower, but the changeling Refused;---for cruelty, like a child's With a little toy duck with wheels. In a vision, Yehonason said To the changeling, “You will only have “Her once, in a dream.” Then, there is the third Cretan: I know not the name. But, in Jotenheim, he said Of me, “Thou art a god!” I don't know what was meant. Green was the firmament, Large were the waves, Hard were the lessons won. I've seen everything, on earth, Under the earth, in the vault above... In forgotten planes, in hidden nooks, I've seen all, knowing only thee. A rapturous peace, the splendor Of thy walls, the city where We shall plant, water, and make loves; Jesus' teachings, Paul's preaching, The prophets' speaking, I know them as the signpost Which points to thee.
Category: Poetry
Opal Steeples
The following is an early draft of Opal Steeples, and is not necessarily what will be in the finished product. To find the Aphorisms, purchase "The Wisdom of B. K. Neifert". Opal Steeples B. K. Neifert Copyright © 2022 B. K. Neifert All rights reserved. DEDICATION This work is dedicated to Christian. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many acknowledgments are given to the numerous poets who've written on the Character I've come to moniker as Death. Such notable poets as Billy Joe, John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, T. S. Eliot, Byron, Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth, and most notable of all, Hosea and Solomon. Also, acknowledgments are given to Jung and Freud, whose theories--though likely incompatible on a pedantic level---as a whole, provide endless synthesis for my poetry. And to my Schizoaffective Disorder, which finds this elusive character everywhere, and most notably in my dreams. And finally to Zion, a Beautiful Woman, a Beautiful City. It seems like the core of this book is a contrast between Death and Heaven. Aphorism 1: When a truly beautiful maid arrives at the party, the mirth grows still. Aphorism 2: A lie is more visceral than truth, because it is simpler to comprehend. Aphorism 3: The ugliest thing about our modern age... every guttural reaction to beauty is confused with lust. Aphorism 4: People who deny Jesus will be judged by Moses’ standard. Aphorism 5: I see nothing more fair, than that God redeem us from Moses’ “Laws which were not good.” Aphorism 6: Be judged by Moses’ law, if you think Jesus died for nothing. Aphorism 7: I have nothing more to write. Sure, I can still write. But, I have nothing more to write. Aphorism 8: Conclude nothing from a liar; their lies only multiply conclusions because it nullifies Vacuous Truth. Aphorism 9: Good poetry never claims to be true, so it contains Vacuous Truth and sound conclusions may be drawn from it. Aphorism 10: Christ is our bread. Feed and be nourished, so you are able to do what's good. Aphorism 11: In my experience, nobody stops loving themselves. Aphorism 12: Self love and self respect are two very different things. Self respect stops you from getting a scribble tattoo, and stops you from getting a septum piercing. Self love says, “Go right on ahead.” 1. The Two Trees Meet “I love you,” Said the Olive Tree To the Fig Tree. The Olive pined And said, “O, our Brother “Was nailed to me!” The Fig replied, “Oh, my darling, “My beauteous friend, “God cursed me, “When leaving the city “I was dead.” The Olive spoke, “My fruit is savory, “And yours are sweet; “Embrace me, “With our bark spliced, “Let us bring forth “Something new!” The Fig Spake, “Yes, our curséd fruit “Could bear something “New; yet, it is “Unlawful!” The Olive lamented, “Yes! For you are “A Fig tree, cursed, “And I an Olive, “For we are from “Two different bloodlines!” The Fig Entwined with The Olive; they created A fruit of life! 2.Ferguson's Giant Soul Ferguson, Mac Moghcun, There was Queen Maev! Who you rose upon your Armies, Red King, and Spent your arms Destroying her, who Fought valiantly. With your bag of dreams, You took my poesy, Raped my beloved, Love-talker. Curséd Fig, you spin Having heaved your Sighs for one hour; in dreams Maev and Ferguson Are at war Shaking the worlds; I, I await you here; while the Titans clash and Rend the times. We shall cling: Brush off your Spider's webs! I wish to seed you In the soil, anew! 3. Zion's Soil Beloved, I have seen Captivity! I have worn chains. I have sinned. The King's hair is raven- Black. he is comely and beautiful, Dark eyed, Yet your desire is for me. he, the beauty of an Archangel, he, at war with Maev--- The heavens shake As angels war with giants. The wiseman questions: My chains are those Which shackle the Earth. You have sighed underneath Him, in the weaving Of dreams. My seed is good. It awaits fertile soil. Unbound the cursed And unlock my chains With your skin. 4. Confession Queen Maev, if I were Ferguson With my bag of dreams I would throw myself into The sea;---and like Prometheus Said to the Southern King, I should drown myself. Yet, with my Giant Soul Enlarged, when Solomon Said to Death, that he Would give him a device, That night I prayed On the way to my corridors. “Let me not have “Taken the cup of wrath, “But let me prophesy “him, and like Jacob “Steal the father's blessing!” So I dreamt. 5. Child, Touch Another World The child's heart within all Feels so much larger than it actually is. It feels like all laws bend to its will, That it is of a greater importance Than the Great Pyramids, Than the Mythic Stonehenge, Than the Swirling Milky Way, Than the Eiffel Tower, Than Democracy, Than Free Speech, Than Patriotism, Than History. The child within all feels like the creator of all worlds. It feels so important, Like a king, Like it were great at every which thing. A great skier, A great chess player, A great teacher, A great writer, A great builder, A great artist, A great singer, A great champion and hero. The child in all believes itself to be great... It feels entitled to all good treatment. It feels as if the world revolves around them. I don't know how we ever grow up... I look at people, in their self importance, And I find each one a world swirls around their minds, I can tap into it by listening to their words. I can feel their feelings, know their thoughts By the words they speak, and the mien they imbue. I can know them, and so can you. Yet, not many care to know them. Not many care to look at the dramatic obelisk of Other As a friend once wrote in a poem about a man named David. That there are obstacles hindering us, People, places and things. I look at myself, and my wisest thoughts Came from other minds much wiser than mine. It came from listening, from tasting, From touching, from smelling, Through the descriptive tense Of another's words. Not my taste, not my touch, Not my smell, but my ear. The greatest pieces of wisdom Came from the greatest adversaries. For, I could poke holes right through them When I became undaunted by their words. When it became interesting. In practical matters I still feel there are foolish men--- Yet, they find a more practical lifestyle than I do. And I feel their swirling world as they speak--- It is offensive. It soon becomes my world A swirling kaleidoscope of thoughts and inventions. I've learned to embrace it, for such is their freedom And such is mine. Yet, my brother told me today, "Do not seek to persuade me." Can democracy flourish without persuasion? My inner child likes to reach out and touch other worlds But it often gets burnt. Thus, it still reaches, It still touches, it pries into the deepest held beliefs. Politely, I can have a conversation with a woman On Dharma, and she enjoy it. Yet, her husband---for he ought to be by now--- Scolds her, offends her, doesn't listen. "Buddhism is more optimistic." I agree, it's not the torments of Caste systems. But, really, there must be something better after this life, Than having to live it all over again. What cruel deity swirls us in this cosmos for eternity? Hell is a comfort to me, for there is no wisdom there. No activity. No planning. Meaning, no thought. For, with thought There is wisdom. Hell seems less cruel Than tormenting someone on Earth Over and over again, With a reincarnation of past lives Rejuvenating and swirling like the Milky Way. That is immoral. And at last, it is simply to die? I cannot believe death is the sum of life's choices. I believe there must be more. I'd lose hope, if all I had to look for Was another life like this. Yet, her thoughts are interesting, And he---very sure of himself--- Tells me I upset her. Something tells me she was telling the truth That it was not me. Rather, I live to listen... Do not be offended if I cannot agree, But that is core to our freedom Even to have heated arguments. If I could not persuade, If I could not gain access to the worlds which swirl around me, I would be despaired, and lonely. I would be, as the Woke Mob wishes me to be, A solipsist, constantly reassuring himself with his own thoughts. And there I would be, no one to challenge me Suffering in the hell I created for myself By telling someone I thought was wrong to, "Shut up." Offense is necessary in a free society. For, in a free society, we are free to share our worlds With one another, and burdened though we be, The child within us touches the scalding, red-hot Iron of another's world---if we cannot sway them to ours Or be swayed to theirs, then there is no freedom. I know it burns. But, there is no better joy any other way. 6. The Scent of a Rose The scent of roses, Unlike all other flowers, Is a form bred from Horticultured, white florets Which smell like honeysuckle. 7. The Sarsoodledom The Satrap of the Sardoodledom Sat, calling all art Kitsch. Save, it was writhing with fear, or sex Or it idealized crime and perverts. He, wisely? was called Athena, And ruled his Sardoodledom With an iron fist. Nothing good could be made, Save what was a Sardoodle In his Sardoodledom. 8. Evidence A Biblical Timeline of Evidence Corroborating Scripture: Unknown – Flood myths appear on every continent and in every ancient civilization, including the Americas, which would be impossible, had not the Flood actually happened. 1950bc - The Lipit-Ishtar, which has a law on it, number 27, that Abraham followed with Hagar, that God told him to ignore. Abraham corresponds to this in the Genealogical record. 1750bc - We see the influence of Abraham on the laws of Mesopotamia, in the Hammurabi's Code, where some of the Hebrew laws in the Torah are first found. Which is likely, also, the reason Sumerian Legends contain Biblical material, was an original source penned by Abraham. 1420bc - The Temple of Soleb has the name of Yahweh inscribed in Egyptian Hieroglyphs, and shows Bound Hebrew Slaves on the Pillars, making mention of the fact that the Israelites were wanderers in the land of Egypt before they were enslaved. 1330bc - The Cult of Aten begins, which corresponds with Moses in the Genealogies. The Cult of Aten was an unexpected conversion to Monotheism by the Pharaoh of Egypt, which likely occurred as a result of the miracles performed by Moses. Also, Moses' genealogical record lines up right with it. 18th Egyptian Dynasty – Egyptian Chariot spokes are found off the coast of Nuweiba beach, and many more like pieces remain under the Red Sea. 1250bc - Joshua's Altar. In Joshua's Altar there are Kosher animal ashes, along with the lead tablet described by the book of Joshua, and it is situated at the rear face of mount Ebal. It is even in the pattern of a Jewish Altar, with ramps instead of steps. Also found at the same dig site are mentions of King Hezekiah (Circa 790bc) and Jeremiah (Circa 600bc). 1050bc - A fragmented clay artefact is found in Khirbet Qeiyafa, containing Hebrew Mnemonic verses and the Tetragrammaton, of interpretive transcriptions of the law. On the pot, it talks about being charitable to slaves, and judging them mercifully, and a rebuke against idolatry. 840bc - Tel Dan Stele records the death of King Jehoram, and reveals that he is from the HouseDavid---a Portmanteau of the Dynasty's Heraldry. 597bc - The Nebuchadnezzar Chronicles are a direct reference to the Jewish Captivity, of Babylon sacking Jerusalem. Ezekiel had already been taken captive, along with Israel, therefore, the captivity had already begun. Ezekiel records the Sack of Jerusalem and how bad it will be. As well as Jeremiah the Prophet. 537bc - Edict of Cyrus, which records the restoration of the Jews back to Israel. 100bc – The Great Isaiah scroll was transcribed, and still has the prophecy of Isaiah 53, detailing how a man's soul must be offered as a sin offering. Predating Christ by at least 130 years. 31ad – Christ sweats blood, and dies of a heart attack. The Gospel record shows Christ sweating blood, a condition called hematohidrosis, which happens because of severe stress, and also a heart attack, when His side was punctured with the spear, water flowed from the wound. Which is from a pustule sack developed around the heart during Pre-Cardiac Arrest. 31ad – Under the Emperor Guangwu, of the Latter Han Dynasty, there is record of the Darkening of the Sun which happened for three hours during the Crucifixion. In the records, twice it is declared, “A man has died for the sins of all the people. Man from heaven died.” 9. The Playlist I start this journey, A two year old boy. I learn my dad's stereo system Having watched him do it before. Some day love will find me, As the opening synths sends me on My new life's road. Then, driving through the woods And over the river, To grandmother's house I go. About to slip down, I'm so excited to swim. Life is about fun, and I'm too tired for work; Play is everything at this time in my life. We listen to the oldies radio, the whole car ride, Sitting in another traffic jam. Seventeen, sweet emotion fills me, Pleasure filled fantasies of sex To Two Unlimited and Rock and Roll... The beginning of my career as a writer, With pornographic prose and an honest to truth love story. I find my woman with a face like a gent. Her daddy says I took it a little too far. My car, I ramble about for years, First with my androgynous mate, And then with my friends; Going here, there, the summer of fun And violence. I try to make my living, But, I'm a rambling man. Rambling on and on, talking mostly nonsense. My car is my pride and joy... You don't know what I got; I rev my Malibu beside the car Of infernos---there my sister almost died. My stereo bumps, overshadowed by woofers In the hopped up Coupe. Barrel Rolls, broken hips and brain tissue. Recovering, Johnny comes to me And makes a deal--- He's in a bind, and I take the dare. Thus, he sings of the Devil's Kitchen And I sing of the Snowy Abode. He sings of a Welsh Prince, And I sing of our LORD and King; My mountain is taller. I then meditate on the sweetest wisdom... To be a man, simple and humble. To search for love, and not be lonely in this world. It was always my song, my very first song, But straying from it all these years, I realize the fantasy was not enough. Then the trial of every Christian comes; The fornication with the worldly device. My captivity, my mission, They scream what I spoke to her in the closet On the rooftops. They know my every secret thought, They turn my life into a spectacle. It happens. Everybody's been there;--- Information's inebriation. Then the music dies. Censorship grows... My movie begins... This will be the day that I die--- I wrote the book of love, I have faith in God above And what the Bible tells me,---so, I believe my music can save the soul. Now I go, walking down the street. I get funny looks from everyone I meet. For my youthful offense I am stained with distrust, and dirty looks. Everywhere I go, a look of shame appears On the faces of all around me... All know my sin, All know my shame... I look for work in the city, But can find none. I ride the Pride of the Susquehanna. People on the river are happy to give me their time, To listen. I wander here, there, looking for an answer To my disgrace and poverty. I have no money, Wandering the streets, shamefully. In my music, I drift away... Writing my odes of blaspheming kings, Doppelgangers, witches, Dragons and satyrs, True Love and advanced civilizations. I get lost in my creativity... I get lost in the rhythms of my Playlist, waiting for when I fall in love. Then I see her face. I started thinking love was simply a story I wrote... A beautiful thing I kept on my keys. A fairytale like my kings and queens. But, I saw her face once more, And there was no trace of doubt. My first I gave all, and got nothing. Now, the face of sunshine makes me believe in love again. I, the loser of losers, Fell in love with the Homecoming Queen; And she loved me. I believed in my dreams. She said to me, "Do you, you, feel like I do?" And for life's longest season, We made time for loves. Life returned to the simplicity of childhood. The pure, exalted joy of youth prevailed; Life was good again... It was like sitting at the Kokomo, Listening to a steel drum band. She and I reclined, filled and old as the songs I listened to as a child. At the end of life, I blessed Jesus, and said, "This life was just alright with me." And I drifted off to sleep one day, And woke up someplace else; Someplace better. 10. The Blue Moth I walk, Succor the green,--- The Mauve, centimeter wide, Opal butterfly Flutters with The lethargy Of a newly created thing. It lands, so delicately Upon the arch of my peach Foot, between the sandal strap And my cuffed, mud-stained Jeans. 11. The Hard Stuff The dragonflies are numerous, The biting flies are few. Upon the paths of Pinchot I consider the words of you. “Slavery is a grievous sin “Which thy God has sanctioned,” True. But the Law of Moses, my friend, By Jesus's been made moot. How know'th you, If by the Heathen made a slave, God may save the Unbeliever, And give them life in Zion all days? The War for Canaan was furious, Blood spilt, from man to child, Yet could it be they were corrupted Rapist, murderer, pedophiles? Thus, ought God not have slain them And use the Holy Book, To judge this world's Chaos Whom Jesus, they all forsook? 12. The Geese with their young goslings Wade into the milk lake, Beige;--- With their webbed feet twaddling The little geese with their down Follow in roes, behind their mother goose. Black, slender necks, like a Brachiosaur, Arch, with white patches and yellow eyes. Grey backs, variegated, and black beaks. Peace flows with the Zephyrs Warm light, a perfect comfort. Children play their lawn tennis Cooperating to score high volleys. Birds sing, “Peace!” War and violence bark madly Somewhere---far away is Their mischief. Yet, hear, is peace. 13. Jacob I take my most prized Possession. I give it to Jacob. For exchange, I wished to exchange It for a lie. I come to collect the lie, Yet, for my most prized possession I receive not the lie, For Death has seized upon it. Therefore, I have not a lie; And for that I am grateful. For, I forgave Jacob for His theft, yet had unyielding Mercy. For that I have been forgiven. 14. Twenty-six Quintilian Souls My hope is for my ministry to save Twenty-Six Quintilian souls. One soul for each grain of sand Off Israel's coastline. 15. Job's Journey Job was a good man who hadn't sinned But his friends laid accusations on him. He suffered for heaven's purple mists, And golden roads; its thick, opal towers Of red and green, made with Gold like Jasper Stones, stretched from Earth to the white moon above. Its pearl gates like a mollusk shell Sheened with opalescent, cornflower blues Gradient with whites and silver glean. The City of Zion, twelve-thousand furlongs high, Rise a city on a hill, made with Ruby- Emerald towers, of a worldcity's Width and breadth and height, of thick, miles square base, The towers rise like New York's or Dubai's;--- Looking up at those towers like gazing Upon leaning mountains, tilted toward thou. There Job sat in pastures with boiled hands And pustule growths---from Shingles, lay he bare. His friends upon the green, green grass sat, raw, Telling him things which were never fair. "For youthful sin, he certainly did "For this he must pay the awful price." The blue sky above, and the wooden Cottages, somewhere dappled upon the Landscape, with the livestock white and black, There they lowed, and lorned and men labored While Job sat accused for sin he'd not commit. The five men sat in a circle, saying, "For complaint and sin and bitterness "You know Joseph never laid a mournful Hymn, "For it is sin which is why you suffer," Yet Job knew he suffered for his Bride Wisdom. Beelzebub, a red satyr, with cloven Hooves, and sculptured chest, haunches a furry Ram's, Sat with black and needly, and disfigured Things, with sandstone caverns lit with licking flame. They worked their webs of lies so raw, with blood Drenched from the cavern floors, to the maimed Figures shackled upon the beige walls of hell. There men were crucified, yet not like Christ For they shall never suffer death again! Job thought mightily on these things, how wrong It was for he to suffer for naught he'd done. Yet, the Law's precept came to mind so sweet, "Unrighteous men find Wisdom's demands "To be like that of a contentious bride.--- "Yet listen to her, and make loves to her "And though she rebuke you, at the end is life." 16. The Source I I write, finding on my own The Wisdom of Solomon. I read Sirach and The Wisdom of Solomon And it is like I myself had written it. That is why I know the Apocrypha is not scripture; But that is also how I know my writing is not demonic. It is inspired by wisdom and truth. Should Dante, or Milton, or Austen Or Tolstoy, or Chesterton, or Lewis Be demonically inspired, Then so also my work, for I Magnify God's law. I come to the philosophy of Existentialism Of Epicureanism, of Platonism... I have help attaining to it. But, the arguments of C. S. Lewis I have found, and strengthened. Yes, there is a little voice in my conscience, The same one that lets me know what is right or wrong; It wasn't too long ago, that everyone knew about it. That is gone in so many--- The voice told me to say that. It is not audible, a hallucination, But like a thought, giving me words I sometimes had never known; Other times, like Malapropisms, which I search for the correct one. I claim that none of my writing is scripture. None of it is true, for I am a poet And work within Vacuous Truths. I speak in similitudes. I heard John MacArthur describe Demonically inspired books. My hairs stood up, My heart grew dim. It is not the peace I know. My voice is not a demonic apparition. It is merely the gift of providential utterance; It has told me of things to come; It has worked within the fabric of my fingers true words. If demonically inspired, If propaganda, Would I attest to the Divine Christ? Would I not try to dissuade my reader From believing in an Omnipotent Triune God, Who is the Father, Son and Holy Spirit? Would I say salvation can only come through belief In this Three Personhood of Deity? Would I speak of rest, Or scathe sin in this world? I do not know why my writing does not get published. But, it is certainly not by Demonic forces that I have written it. If The Secret can be published, And the myriads of books Dr. MacArthur talked about, Things too disturbing to retell... Would I be disturbed by it If I myself had written the like? No. Any ghost or supernatural occult thing I would hail And be mystified by. Rather, my words are built to heal and turn the world to repentance. Something much needed in our age of godlessness. Will I triumph? No thing I fear more than losing the relationship I have with Christ. I am willing to be poor and a vagabond if it means retaining my faith. But, should I be unable to retain faith as a poor man, Then let me be rich. If unable as either, Then let me be fed, and clothed, and sheltered And no abomination enter into my soul Nor root of bitterness, nor bark of poison into this soul. II There is an anxiety in me... Having not spoken all. Hail Britannica came by way of a dream--- How I know not. Whether by a worm, or drunken chalice of blood Or by magic I do not know. What I do know, is that I've asked God Many times for an Epic Poem. It is a point of anxiety in me That I do not know how I dreamt it. One night, I dreamt of a blue light coming from my bookshelf. Before I dreamt the story, I remember talking with my friend about it. I remember asking him what my next work would be. Whether these things are true, I do not know. My same friend, I had talked to about the drawer My dad replaced, and this before it had ever broken. I thought he was insane, talking about a broken drawer Which had never broken. Yet, about a year later The drawer broke, and my dad replaced it. I remember talking with him, Whom I hadn't spoken to for weeks. I also remember seeing myself At a bookstore, touching a woman I had made into Elora Wearing the hat I would wear, and the Moccasins I would wear. What comforts me, is in the words of Solomon There is a large family who summoned death. And in Hosea, Death is more prosperous Than his brethren. In my dreams, he saw the King's inner chambers, He made my Epic Poem into a novel--- He even draws me forth to hide his lies. If you must know, he is the inspiration For my Doppelganger. He is the inspiration For my Thirteen Kings... And I have to dream of this nightmare every night. Excuse me for writing about it, For perhaps He is Abaddon himself. All I know is that I clearly remember My friend talking to me about a drawer Being replaced, and lo, the drawer hadn't been replaced. I remember of talking about this year's drought Last year, a year plenteous with rain And there could not be a drought at all. It could just be that I am dreaming these things As the other night I had dream paralysis And could hear a woman's voice taunting me. But, I prayed a weak prayer. I do not think my source is demonic As if it were, I would hide these things from you. I feel like, rather, it is an oppressive force Attacking me, like an army outside of a besieged city, And I must use this intelligence to defeat the enemy. I do not believe I am a god. I do not believe I am perfect. Rather, what I believe is simple... Jesus Christ is the LORD. I ought to follow His ways; And I ought to persuade you to follow Him, too. As any hope for a good life now Requires your belief as well as mine. For, if there is oppression because of sin, My words cannot achieve me the life I desire. And as is told to Israel, "Take with you words." The reason I do not believe I'm demon possessed And that my stories come from Satan Is that I believe they came from God. Not as a means to save the world But simply as a trade comes to any man Who is an expert at the craft. Through providential guidance. And perhaps I have an interesting story to tell. 17. Violet Sky I could be white I could be light I could be righteous and free; Though the tyrants, Who are so violent Wish violet, the welkin to ring. 18. Logos Where have you gone? Babble is brought to dust; The nations are cast abroad. Where are our common stories? Where is Jack and Jill And Peter Pumpkin Eater? Where is Robin Hood The Grinch, Paul Bunyan And Persuasion? With what does man share or gain Knowledge? By knowledge, The root of wisdom is cast abroad. The flowers and birds And woodland creatures Are known by few... The Ecology is detailed to gross Minutia, while the Eggplant a berry And the Berry is naught. We riot over controversy And have outlawed truth. Men speak their own burdens And by their own burdens None do listen... A white background And a man in the foreground Strives to find eternal truths... Yet none are to be found. Music is terse chords, Guttural phrases, The monotone sung over A simple, three note melody. Poetry is vapid, Novels are simple, Yet math is invented; Not discovered. As a wise scholar spake'th, Babble's tower is fallen And collapsed to ruinous dust. No man or woman receives justice; And for equity's sake all are treated unequal. The child is snatched from the parent's home And castrated, fed hormones like a slaughtering animal, And fundamentally altered and neutered Before she knows how to count. The Logos is destroyed; None can comprehend or interpret the wise and ancient and dark truths. All is impossible, and all sayings spoken Are the lie we ourselves create. We disperse it abroad, We fallow the rows of the next generation To watch the sandstorms tower miles high And consume the cities... For, no science can be agreed upon, The solve to the world's problems are doubted Simple things we see, and then say there is no proof. Yet, the problem is there is too much proof, And we wish to be the horse drawing the carriage Blinded, and seeing only what is in front. Noone knows truth. Not one. I write my poetry in this century--- Yet, I am all alone. 19. The Pearl Sterling Ye sodomous witches Writhe---hate ye love For hate the truth ye do. Ye summoned death With combined might; Ephemeral powers sprung forth. "We hate the Christian "Because he set bad example for all..." When or withal, when I was but a lad Did you not revel on our revelry And succor every kiss? Then, when he had change of heart Then, only then, did you pounce? For you loved his sumptuous face And desired his perfect form... Then, he laid with virgins And hurled the cruel abuses. Yet, 'twas when he grew kind; Only then did you hate him And claim he set bad example. Then, at last, you queens and kings, You portioned your might to destroy. You bargained, and bartered, And sought to warp the world to your wicked Worldview. Have the world. Yet, you wish to wreck me And cause me a shameful death. Doth thou yet hear the voices? Doth the Satanic screams fill your domiciles? At last, they shall And I will have revenge by the LORD's mighty arm. "From where?" I may die... But, at least I will be at eternal rest. You... you shall live in the hell you summoned forth. "Death!" you cried, "Come forth," And he did, to dance on your graves. 20. Amonotheum Zion, with your perfect face, Ample breast, and scarlet hair: Tall, yet perfect enough for a kiss, My changeling has held you In his dream, with your pink Areola;---and a degenerate Man wanted to share in your Flower, but the changeling Refused;---for cruelty, like a child's With a little toy duck with wheels. In a vision, Yehonason said To the changeling, “You will only have “Her once, in a dream.” Then, there is the third Cretan: I know not the name. But, in Jotenheim, he said Of me, “Thou art a god!” I don't know what was meant. Green was the firmament, Large were the waves, Hard were the lessons won. I've seen everything, on earth, Under the earth, in the vault above... In forgotten planes, in hidden nooks, I've seen all, knowing only thee. A rapturous peace, the splendor Of thy walls, the city where We shall plant, water, and make loves; Jesus' teachings, Paul's preaching, The prophets' speaking, I know them as the signpost Which points to thee. 21. The Limit We can find the limit. But, we cannot cross it. It's the fundamental crux Of calculus. There are limitations to human Imagination. Limitations to human science. Limitations to human understanding. Because, there are limitations In the real world... We can simply understand the limit. We can calculate the Bible That Jesus' Morals are good... From there, solve through Sine That the rest of the Bible speaks The Law---but, we'll never reach the limit. We'll never know the full measure. We'll continually approach it... Yet, each infinitesimal distance Is infinitely wide. The limit is Christ, And like calculus, We must have faith that it solves--- We'll never feasibly touch infinity. 22. The Peach Thou, succulent peach--- Thy sugars like glass at thy Crown; thy juice, like an Orange syrup, dripping to My white t-shirt---sting my tongue. 23. Ode to Free Speech Today you die, When Yellow Journalism was outlawed. Poets could not eat from their wisdom For the common lay had censored. Facts are engineered for public manipulation. “Do not challenge us, because of offense. “Jesus does not exist--- “Do not even mention Him. “I will make a fact check “And cite a lie and make it true. “I will outright lie, and call it fact, “And make the world believe it.” The Yellow Journalist was sued For his outlandish claims--- The other Yellow Journalists cried out with joy Until they no more could speak. Silence. It is best if you keep silence in this time. For truth is outlawed, and persuasion a crime. 24. Allah He derives his name from Sin, the moon, He derives his name from Eros, desire, He derives his name from Athena, pedantry. 25. And God Created All was nothing, And then God created light. And by light, there was darkness, And they separated. The light of the universe was day And the darkness of the universe was night. Then, God said, "Let there be a firmament" To which, the waters of Earth's magma Separated from the waters of outer space, With the firmament between them. And God said of the waters of space, That it was heaven. And God said of the waters of magma, That it was Earth. Then, the LORD gathered all the waters from heaven And brought them to Earth from comets And asteroids, and gathered the waters So that when the Earth cooled, and there began the continents, There, also, was the Ocean and the Cooled Earth. Then, before the stars had formed, Before the sun had formed, Before the moon had formed, The first vestals of herbal life Appeared in the waters; And they grew. They made their fruits, and they made grassy algaes; And they also covered the earth. Then, the Sun was formed, And the Moon was formed, And the stars had been given birth. So God patterned the stars In the pattern of Christ and His story. So that all would know Who the Messiah was. For, there is the Triune The Cross, David with his sling, Mary giving birth, Goliath slain, And the Dragon and Elisha's Bear. The moon and the sun ordained the times and seasons. And the waters brought forth creatures And then there came the Dinosaurs. So these Fowl multiplied upon the Earth. And they grew, and became mighty, And god blessed them and said, "Be fruitful "And multiply in the Earth!" And then God said, "Let the earth bring forth its cattle And creeping things!" For now, what was in the sea Had come to dry land, and what was on dry land Had come to the sea. And everything had been reversed In the order of God's creation. And the creeping things came forth, The mice scampered, the insects grew tiny, The lizards crept forth on the ground. And God fashioned them after their kinds, And said, "Be fruitful and multiply." And then God said, "Let Us "Make Man in our own image" To His Holy Faces of Elohim. So, He made man. And from man He fashioned woman. Yet, Adam had been created on the first day, As the creation of our spirit, While the flesh world were created in six days, Separating the spirit from the flesh. And God said, "It is good." Thus, He rested when His work was finished, On the seventh day of Creation, To give us example to not overburden ourselves with work. ABOUT THE AUTHOR Brandon Neifert is the author of books including In Defense of the Story, a crowning achievement of autodidactism; My Collected Writings, a medley of various writings on diverse topics; and, The Love of Another, an epic novel starring a rowdy maverick colonel caught between a devastating, fifth world war and the love of his life. Neifert is a self-educated, self-published writer, who, much like his characters, strives for the moral best in both himself and society. A devoted Christian, Neifert was born-again when confronted with a sin from his adolescence that ultimately led to his confession and incarceration as an adult. Neifert has a colorful past, but makes up for it with his scrupulous observations of the human condition, framing both good and evil in ways that even the most skeptical can agree.
List of Historical Artefacts that Corroborate the Bible
1950bc - The Lipit-Ishtar, which has a law on it, number 27, that Abraham followed with Hagar, that God told him to ignore. Abraham corresponds to this in the Genealogical record. 1750bc - We see the influence of Abraham on the laws of Mesopotamia, in the Hammurabi's Code, where some of the Hebrew laws in the Torah are first found. 1420bc - The Temple of Soleb has the name of Yahweh inscribed in Egyptian Hieroglyphs, and shows Bound Hebrew Slaves on the Pillars, making mention of the fact that the Israelites were wanderers in the land of Egypt before they were enslaved. 1330bc - The Cult of Aten begins, which corresponds with Moses in the Genealogies. The Cult of Aten was an unexpected conversion to Monotheism by the Pharaoh of Egypt, which likely occurred as a result of the miracles performed by Moses. Also, Moses' genealogical record lines up right with it. 1250bc - Joshua's Altar. In Joshua's Altar there are Kosher animal ashes, along with the lead tablet described by the book of Joshua, and it is situated at the rear face of mount Ebal. It is even in the pattern of a Jewish Altar, with ramps instead of steps. Also found at the same dig site are mentions of King Hezekiah (Circa 790bc) and Jeremiah (Circa 600bc). 1050bc - A fragmented clay artefact is found in Khirbet Qeiyafa, containing Hebrew Mnemonic verses and the Tetragrammaton, of interpretive transcriptions of the law. On the pot, it talks about being charitable to slaves, and judging them correctly, and a rebuke against idolatry. 840bc - Tel Dan Stele records the death of King Jehoram, and reveals that he is from the HouseDavid---a Portmanteau of the Dynasty's Heraldry. 597bc - The Nebuchadnezzar Chronicles are a direct reference to the Jewish Captivity, of Babylon sacking Jerusalem. Ezekiel had already been taken captive, along with Israel, therefore, the captivity had already begun. Ezekiel records the Sack of Jerusalem and how bad it will be. As well as Jeremiah the Prophet. 537bc - Edict of Cyrus, which records the restoration of the Jews back to Israel.
YouTube Comment that Got Shadow Banned. Seriously. This is Some Orwellian Stuff. Don’t Watch Biography on YouTube. It’s crap.
@Biography - Your biography sucks. Milton was a voracious reader. In fact, if you would have just bothered to look at the Milton Hershey School Website, you'd see it say, "Reading was an integral part of Milton Hershey’s life." and that he spent thee days reading Victor Hugo's Le Miserables, only coming out of his room for twenty minutes each day to do chores. "Milton Hershey’s Passion for Reading and Literacy". https://www.mhskids.org/blog/milton-hersheys-passion-for-reading-literacy/. 5/13/22. Web. Seriously, you suck and I'm never watching another biography by you again. I'm also pretty sure Mennonites don't believe wealth is evidence of God's favor. They would know better, having been steeped in the Bible from infants, that misfortune happens to us all, and in no way can be a measure of God's favor for a person.
Close Enough
1. Dogwood and Matzah Bread The Matzah's holes and chars are like our Christ's Wounds and bruises. It breaks, like Christ's body. The dogwood's flowers, like a ray of sun Had told me today, are wilted on its Four petals, for "Christ was crucified on Dogwood." Though not true, in either case, twain, They are beautiful little thoughts which prove Christ in their own, strange; fascinating ways. That the Hawkish prudishness which doubts this And must take every metaphor for a Holy Writ, getting offended at lore Which is beautiful, expounds upon man's Linear thinking. Not even complex Equations solve so prudishly---why does It have to be literal? Christ was hanged On an olive tree, yet the dark wrinkles Of the Dogwood's bloom can remind us of Those four wounds Christ took in his hands and feet. Same is the skeptic's who say Christ could not Have been crucified, for scripture did not Mention ropes. That is another kind of Prudishness. Everyone knew how men were Crucified. Rather, both kinds of rigid Thinking are epitomes of stupid. Maybe things of literary merit Need not be exact, but remind us that It did, indeed, happen once in history? 2. Old Atheists There is nothing so handsome As the look of confidence on an old Atheist's sneering face, Just as there is nothing so serene As the look of satisfaction on an old Christian's. Both men have uncovered many truths Yet the first is bitter while the second breathes a second breath. 3. Modern Music Modern music is tinged with sadness. Every breath is big, epic... yet melancholy. Yet the older music, at its saddest Was still a celebratory feast. 4. The Perfume of the Wild Flowers The perfume of the wildflowers Carries with the scent of the woods. My lover's musk is like that of this breeze. The April mowings brim in the warmer Zephyrs of the sun's bath and periwinkle flood Of sky; My lover, you are more pleasant than these. 5. Major Third The minute I am vulnerable In a poem, I just want to delete the son of a gun. I feel a tight pull somewhere outside my chest. It is my spirit breaking... Don't make me have to do this To earn my bread. I am distant--- My prophecy erring For the same reason Jonah's did. I want to keep my reader away. I don't want them attuned to my heart. I don't want them knowing where I hurt. I want to talk about lofty things. I want to speculate on things far away. I don't want to talk about feelings If there is nothing good to feel. I don't want to sing songs like this. They're popular... Everyone loves them. Everyone loves to hear the heartache Everyone wants to see the vulnerabilities. Don't you understand I'd rather talk politics And religion And philosophy And art And science And math And sociology And psychology And history And mythology And nature And not talk about my feelings? I'd rather not talk about my feelings. An autobiography of life Is not something I want to write. Everyone wants an autobiography. My life's too painful to write it. Save in fables. 6. I–V–vi–IV I walk with you through the valley Walk with me one step more. I saved you once, my daddy, Don't make living into a dark chore. Believe in my songs and future Believe in my fortune and gift. Don't throw me away with the soothers Don't hate me or cause a rift. I want to see my future I want the good things of this world. I have always been a straight shooter And you an ever shining pearl. I don't want great fame Or money or vice. I don't want my name To be flashing with lights. But, God gave me a talent That you said not to burry. So, don't think I'm a rapscallion For not wanting to worry About my work which I have made. This work I am called to, see; Come what will or what may. 7. Karma Doesn't Exist Karma is just the social opinion Others have of you. It is unforgiving, Unjust, biased Without mercy toward completely innocent people--- It justifies a serial killer and makes him feel no shame. It constantly breaks and destroys an innocent man. Do untouchables do untouchable things? Did Genghis Kahn suffer anything? What about the other countless dictators And Mass Murderers in Asia and Africa? Did Stalin receive Karma? Did Mao? People still love him to this day. He starved, slaughtered and imprisoned almost five-hundred million people. Yet, his Karma is so good, For half the world sings his praise. Karma is a cur. Because it has no justice And no mercy. It's as much a backward fable as the Koran. 8. God is Going to Bless Me God is going to bless me This I know is true. For when I stand for Jesus All things I fear will cool; The fires of hell surround me But Christ my compass reigns. In Him I am a man freed From sin's bondage and its chains. *** "Let me never turn again..." T. S. Eliot in "Ash Wednesday" *** "Evil is ancient, just like good." B. K. Neifert *** 9. The Daughter of Zion I, Christ's bride, wish to know the LORD. I, rejected by my wife of youth, wish to be married To the Land of Zion. I wish to call Zion "Beulah." I, a son of Zion, wish to be married to her, I wish to cling, and become a nation. I, a meek man, wish to become a clan. I wish to Kiss the Son, so He is not angry with me. LORD, answer me. LORD, peer into the lattice for me; Let thy hands drip with myrrh. A Thousand Talents are yours, Solomon, Let leave the LORD and I to lean one upon another, While coming up from the wildernesses. 10. Falsely Called Our modern age Looks upon every truth And claims it is a lie. Then, with the truth cast aside, It invents a falsehood, saying it is science. 11. So You Want to be a Christian? Do not be a Christian, and sin. Do not come to Jesus, if sin Is the thing you love above all. Get your short life, and fill it good; Suffer eternity in hell. For if you will say you are a Christian And choose to keep on sinning, you shall heap Up evil upon yourself, and also Those you love. For you shall say, "Come this way!" But it is a slippery slope, which will Break you. And it will kill those you do love. For they shall be led by you, believing They have good from heaven, yet in their sins Remain they dead to heavenly abodes. Rather, heap up for yourselves heavenly Treasure, by living righteously and true. Even if you are an offence to your Brother, at least you live with blessings true. You show them the path, and, yes, it is hard. You wrestle with God like Jacob, to wounds Yet, you cling even though your hip is touched And you are wounded, broken, bruised--- you cling. And those who are undaunted by your life Will follow in your footsteps, those behind Christ's. 12. Why We Need Jesus Man had learned what sin is When he ate from the Tree of Knowledge. From that point onward, man was cursed Because not only could he sin, He knowingly could now justify his sin. And with that, man would have no way To save himself, for he would be corrupt By way of having knowledge of sin. So, God repented of making man; He was sorry for having created us. Therefore, He gave us a way out Of our miserable state, that on acceptance We should be empowered to live a life Worthy of Him. Through choosing the sprout Of David, we would have redemption through Christ. For man, having no choice but to sin--- For sin is compulsory in this world--- Need have a way to be forgiven And therefore not suffer for his knowingly committing it. Not only for his knowing it, But for his justification of it. For by biting the fruit, We now could rationalize our sin And make it right in our own eyes. That is the knowledge of judgment. And that is a sin worthy of eternal damnation To say, "I have done no wrong, "But rather, whomever I hurt, I am in the right." 13. Joshua's Altar Kosher bones, ashes, it's a sacrificial altar. It is built exactly as Joshua said it was. It has a ramp, therefore, is not a pagan altar. It has scarab Beetles, explaining the Egyptian Tie. Ironically, those same beetles are found throughout All of Israel. T'was dated 1200BC, Predating Josiah or Persian restoration; Actually built at the exact time Joshua lived. It is built exactly where Joshua said it was. A tablet was found, made of lead, for permanence, With three letters of the Tetragrammaton written In the proto-Hebrew alphabet. True evidence. The lead tablet has curses written on it, just like The Bible says. Joshua said, "Choose this day whom you serve." For, by passing the mount Hubaal, one chooses the LORD And leaves sin behind them, at the altar, once for all. There is also evidence of Jeremiah, and Hezekiah having lived in Israel, as well. What does it prove? That Israel was a people. Long Before Josiah, long before Cyrus the Great, and It proves Israel has been a people, forgotten Once, as Hosea said, but now remembered and found. 14. Falsely Called Science I While reading my commentary on Milton The thought entered into my head--- Creation Science is the thing falsely called. Which, men professing, have strayed from the faith. Do we not believe in an omnipotent God? It was said by one, "Wouldn't God be a liar "If he created the Earth in six days, but made "It look like six billion years?" To which, I had no answer. I still believed in God---yet, I'm not foolish enough To gamble my life against science. Science seems will win That bout, unless the Earth is flat, and all science is magic. God is real because Nietzsche is right;--- By being right, we can plainly observe he is wrong. Good and Evil are inherent, and easily observed. Therefore, I say, "God merely died--- "He's as much alive today as any of us living." II Yet, now that we have trusted science and not God Had not science become something of a god? Need men a deity as cruel and ruthless? One which gives no justice, save man's faulty laws? One which confuses man from wo, and causes sodomy To be praised higher than conception? Science which calls human life a sin? Science which says of a baby, "It should die "If it will suffer long in this life." There is nothing worse than the dual edged sword. At first, science claimed, "There is not a god," To which, science then ceased to be science. It claimed, "A man is a woman if he so believes." Why? If I believe I can fly, and throw myself off a cliff Will I not fall like any other man? If I walk on water Will I not sink? To answer this question, One stops believing in science, and starts believing in magic. One starts believing in faith. My remark to one who crosses The bridge from natural to supernatural is, "Will science then moot itself in the future "And bring us back to a pitiful dark age?" Therefore, let the damned fly and walk on water;--- Let the innocent walk on water and fly to prove their faith. What difference does it make? If we make all things possible By means of magic, science no longer means anything. If I walked on water, and a sinner could walk on water, Then Jesus' miracle is moot. Is it not? And science with it. Therefore, let me live by what truly is science So when a healing comes, I can attest that it was not I, But Jesus living within me. And man can remain amazed That the physics which he rightly knows to be Law Was violated in the name of good. Not evil. 15. Something Christians Ought not Say Do not say, "Satan is the god of this world." If I had twenty dollars for every time a pastor said this I'd be well compensated. For, do pastors know what they say? Paul had said it first, and being who he is He must have meant to bring shock to his readers. The same way I will say things to subvert common wisdom. But, Satan is not the god of this world. If he is, then he has lordship over you. Why make him your head? Unless it is to throw you into hell? Rather, Christ is the God of this world. Satan is but a prince who suzerains, And is in rebellion against his dominion. Do we call the prince a god? In those states which do, they are worshipping Baalim. Do you wish to worship a Baalim? Also, when Paul said, "Satan was the God of this world," He also said, "As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.." Do we then say, "Paul is a Gnostic!" Paul was not a gnostic, but subverted the expectation of his reader. Just as I am not an atheist, but use common atheistic wisdom To subvert my reader. Just as Paul says "Satan is the god of this world," He does not mean literally, but that Satan is the god the world worships And not our Creator. Cease saying it, lest you make Satan your god, and incur wrath on yourself. *** "For if you love your neighboring kingdom as your own, "you will have less occasion to do them injustice "and thereby have less war." --- --- Mo Tzu from the Mozi *** "There is no absolute wisdom in this life; "things that ought not be, often are, "and things that ought be, often aren't. "Rather, hold onto your faith and let go of all illusions." --- --- B. K. Neifert *** 16. Poetry An engineer is a poet of sorts, Precisely ordering her concepts Through strings of operations. A poet is an engineer of words Laying down an idea, Using his deductive proof Of conjunctions and copulas, Of phrases and clauses, To describe something true about human existence.. Wise men are the ones who like them--- Common folk don't do math in their free time So also they don't read poetry. However, for those who are engineers, And doctors, and lawyers, And priests, and poets, and professors, And students of life... We take enjoyment from the big concepts. So, those in the STEM field Don't say a poem is useless--- Look at it like a riddle which needs solved. And that riddle will reveal deeper things About the human cosmos swirling around us. It fills a mind like a cup as sweet As milk and honey. It fills a mind with meaning. I pray to God that it is not a curse To think deeply, and see wisely. For, if it were, I would remain saddened By the loss of my mind. The only thing sweeter than poetry Is love--- And Poetry teaches me how to love For it forces me to listen carefully to what other people are saying And it teaches me the joy of other people's ideas. 17. Stupid People It was brought to my attention That a stupid person was one Who was misfortunate. And being unfortunate, They brought misfortune on others. I thought long and hard on it--- Only a stupid person would Create an x/y graph, and link Fortune with intelligence. Good Character ought to bring fortune Whether someone were not intelligent Or someone were. Yet, it is not always the case. For some people, with exceptionally bad character, Bring fortune to themselves and all around them. There are some with exceptionally good character Like Jesus, who being gifted with God's intelligence Are extremely unfortunate. Is it intelligence which brings fortune? Not always... men with iqs of 200 are extremely Unfortunate, and do nothing with their lives Beside farm---though they are very wise For what else is there? They are unfortunate In the sense that they are not household names They are not great innovators solving problems. They are unfortunate. Really, there is no causal link between Good Character, Fortune and Intelligence. Each is a positive attribute to have As desirable as the next. To have good fortune is highly prized. Intelligence is highly prized. Character is highly prized. In free societies, good character ought to bring good fortune. This is true. There ought to be that causal link And where good character cannot bring fortune--- And rather brings misfortune---that society is called corrupt. Where bad character brings fortune And not misfortune that society is corrupt. Really, fortune is as much a lot As a die cast---and depending on what you do with it Determines your own prowess. Yet, even prowess is not the same as fortune. And prowess is not the same as intelligence. There are many things and diversities. Fortune, though, is primarily linked To willpower or luck, depending on whether A society were benevolent or corrupt. In that sense, it is linked---but only with good character And never with intelligence. 18. Guangwu Recorded in Chinese History, On the Seventh Year of Guangwu In the Fourth Month---which is exactly at Passover--- It is exactly 31AD. And the sun darkened According to the historical text. The text prophesied that one man Would bear the sins of the entire world, And pardoning on the whole world would be accomplished. It is in the actual text. "The sins of all the people are on one man "And pardon is proclaimed to all who are under heaven." "Man from heaven died." The miraculous thing about this is that The next Solar Eclipse would be in 33ad. Therefore, Christ was crucified in 31ad And Chinese Historians had chronicled The darkening of the sun on that exact day. A year which did not have a solar eclipse. It is actual historical evidence of the darkening Which happened during the crucifixion. Found in the history of the latter Hans Record number 18. 19. Reparations There was a good man, who was poor. He waited for work every day, for daily hire, Yet for his appearance and poverty None would seek his hire. The LORD walked by him, seeing his poverty And his good heart, and thought to lay a test, "This man's people have been sorely treated "And I shall give him the just recompense "Of his ancestor's dearth. I shall fairly treat him." Thus, the man received just compensation For his ancestor's slavery, and the LORD was pleased. Yet, he had no lack whatsoever, He began to oppress his neighbors He began to steal,---having his heart fattened By the wealth his ancestors had lost He began to become wicked, and his good heart Was turned toward evil and malice. Until, he had killed a man in cold blood. The LORD looked upon the Earth, and said, "Even if I give these people what they deserve, "They shall destroy themselves with it. "Therefore, I cannot give it to them, "For they have hearts prone to doing evil "And must first learn to stop oppressing their neighbors. "For, there are ample opportunities for them to be rich "But lo, their oppression of their brethren "Causes them to have wayward hearts "And causes them to shed blood, which I have not commanded them." *** "Cram them full of noncombustible data, "chock them so damned full of 'facts' "they feel stuffed, but absolutely "brilliant' with information." "Beatty to Guy Montag --- In Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 *** "Where I have to fear "for an unpopular or incorrect opinion, "or am spied on for having such, "it is no longer a free society." --- B. K. Neifert *** 20. A Final Thought Written words are so bare--- Let some thoughts exist Which will be unrecorded. Speak them, in oral poetry Which cannot be censored. Learn to hone your life In listening, and short phrases. Learn to be interested in others. Poetry is my voice, and I am tired of it. Rather, I like to listen to a thousand voices All speaking their minds---I miss it. Other people's wisdom. Let me be silent now, And peer into my silent lips With wisdom spoken by others. Attune to the oral poetry Of life, and stop writing every thought Every detail---the robin was beautiful Upon the deck, its fat belly filled with eggs. Yet, speak a word of poetry or two Which can be for only one or two ears. Do not, always, be recording your thoughts. Do not always be throwing your thoughts To the wind. Who is it for? Listen, why don't you? Listen to the wind, the voices of the ones you love. Listen, and you will feel the swelling within your ileum. If I be a poet, I must learn to listen. For only by listening, have I anything worthwhile to say. And say some things once, and don't write it. Say things once, for one ear, for one time Let it evaporate, and return later as a planted Seed. Then, be silent, as the rain comes With the lightning's fertilization And it comes with a mellow silence; A tattoo of pitter patter tapping against the roof. Listen to it, and the voices of those around you. Stay silent. For speech destroys the pleasant reverie; It disturbs our peace. 21. Fallen by the Way I prayed for you to meet me... In prophetic verse you did greet me. Yet, tangled with Jezebel you did your dance. My heart hurts, and looks on with soldier's eyes... You were a friend, instantly, yet she Sought to fire her devices upon my brow--- She did not seek my life, but the barbarians Whom she kept company with would hate my soul. And you, taken with dry loves had forsaken our friendship. I wish to comfort you; I wish to give you the bread of peace. But, danger lurks on every corner, and the gnarly trap Lays deep within your flesh---I cannot save you. With knowledge you sinned, and severed from us Divine friendship. I would hasten to help you To bring you into fields of freshly grown moss And pleasant water brooks. Yet, you sinned. It was not you but the choices you made And the danger you placed me in. I must have hidden my soul from destruction For you did your dance with Jezebel, And would not entreat my company in the woods Where we could have fled the troubles of this world. Yet, you also dashed my hopes to pieces... You knew my dreams, and my divine purpose And took to taunting me before my face With all. You took my kindness and entreated it lightly. You mocked me before my face---for that I could forgive you. Yet, the company you kept, it is dangerous And ready to fail---wishing to end the cycle of reincarnation That immoral politics; for death was her highest hope And not life. And you chose her instead of me. 22. American Sonnet I found Christ the day I believed, and loved Him fervently, my beloved. I found His name as both Priest and King, in the book of Zechariah. I saw him foretold, in Isaiah Fifty-Three, Who bore our gross sin. I saw Him in Psalm Twenty-Two that soldiers would divide His Garments. In Jeremiah, I saw was there a new covenant prophesied. To be established in Abraham's seed, I saw that covenant nigh. The serpent bit Christ's ankle, the Seed of Eve, I saw once in a poem. Guangwu, a Chinese King saw darkness on Passover, and made Christ known. Good and evil are both self-evident, yet Who but Jesus can judge? Job cried out for a mediator between man and God, when sores rubbed. Science and math's tautology need be established in God's wisdom. Miracles exist in great numbers, which break man's laws and his theorems. The stars are patterned to tell God's story, like a Child Christ had drawn. In order for there to be real love, God must be believed and His Son. 23. Treasure Common Things Treasure common things. Cherish the dandelion flower Over the hibiscus or rose. Cherish the dogwood and Red Buds Every spring, and cherish the mulberry's fruit; Cherish the fruit in season But have a taste for some fruits out of season, Those commonly sold at market. Splendor over the amethyst and not the diamond; Dig your hand into the stone bucket And cherish the variegated colors of those common rocks; Don't seek after the Ruby or Sapphire or Peridot or Emerald. Cherish the Zebra Coral, Unakite and Blue Quartz and Pink Howlite. When the bluebells appear in the forest, cherish them. When the helicopter leaves fall, cherish them. Cherish the dandelion fuzz and the Queen Anne's Lace. Find chestnuts, and walnuts, and hedge apples, And wild violets and wild strawberries and Veronica flowers; When they are in bunches, the common blue violets are a most beautiful sight. In the fall, cherish the golden and blazen leaves. In the winter cherish the snow. In the summer cherish the summer storms. Love chess boards, and old pictures of family and friends, Love the curtains that hang in your home, Love the common items you always see Those which you have possessed all your years. These I must say treasure, before you lose them. Be exhilarated over Susan B. Anthonys and Golden Sacajaweas; And Bicentennials which make change from the vending machines. Love the variegated state quarters And the different nickels, And the common pieces of art that hang in your home, The ones that family had made. Love those people around you, Who you commonly associate with. Love your coworkers and classmates And bosses and neighbors, And yes, even your job. Be satisfied with your TV And Computer with the key missing And broken keyboard that doesn't type. Love what is common and readily available to you Over rare and priceless things. For, if you seek out rare and priceless things You shall always be impoverished by their lack. 24. The Men From York Two men from York stand nigh a woman Whom in great offense had slain free speech. They, in their indignation, sought to bury The bones of Elijah underneath the Broom Tree; There, they sought their war, and exiled The good and the bad and the ugly From off the Earth. Jude and Thomas Sat aghast, asking, "Why did the world "Not accept you?" "LORD, they have seen like I!" Yet, faith departed from the Earth as the two men from York Sung their hymns, with Mary in great offense betwixt. "Speak no more, and lie dead---For men are no longer "Free to pursue truth, but must accept all words "Canon to the world they have become yoked to." Jude, Judas and Thomas slept Sharing one another's dreams; Jude, Judas and Thomas All wrote their poetry; Yet, Judas decried, "The stars are a lie!" And he, in the dead of night Walked the streets And turned Thomas to try his tormented tyrannies. He did it once to Jude, who in confusion Bought the book most beloved of Benjamin To see the stars were accorded to their clockwork And the hands moved in their precious courses; All was on time. Thus, Jude and Thomas said, "Let me never turn again. "Let us never go back to our former sin--- "Let us not see Judas' treachery any longer!" As it was, that thing we abhor is nailed to Christ. Yet, Mary said, "I am offended at thee!" Thus, the exile was fierce. Jude and Thomas both believed And like Daniel, were unharmed by the Lion. Jude having once stepped on a serpent's brood And though it bit, it was like naught. Thomas, seeing the treachery of Judas Iscariot Awoke, and like a dream, it was like naught. The two men from York succored Mary In great offense at Jude and Thomas--- Beleaguered, with Judas Iscariot Their Captain. Thomas said, "They see!" And Jude said, "Why doth the world reject you?" *** "But if at first God is said to have made formless, "and through void He makes form, "He does not contradict Himself; "He is able to determine what precedes eternity, "whether in time, by His volition,--- "and where it originates in Eternity, God precedes it all..." --- St. Augustine, from his Confessions "God is omnipotent; trying to understand Genesis "through our linear way of thinking "is like trying to make unequal lines literally "equal, in intersecting chords." --- B. K. Neifert *** 25. Guangwu They changed Guangwu before my very eyes. I have documented proof, if only for myself. Christ was crucified in 31AD, and the darkening was Not a solar eclipse. Someone is literally changing The facts as we speak. Google literally said According to yesterday's date, 5/4/22 "A solar eclipse on Passover Would have been impossible." End quote. Do we now change astronomy to sate the world's delusions? 26. Monseigneur A Tale of Two Cities, The dystopian nightmare... Monseigneur kills while he drives His carriage, and doesn't flinch. Men in lower social class Were considered expendable By those in higher social class. Lawless, unaccountable... A little baby was his victim. It took me a while to understand The story. I didn't like Dickens at first. Now, I see a tapestry of the time before times. Poor flooding the street to drink a filthy flagon of wine, Prisons where men sit in solitary confinement, Marquises murdering maliciously like mountebanks. There is no great past--- And there is no great future--- There is only now. Let us not spoil it with our greed... Poem dedicated to my best friend Jonathan 27. A Connecticut Yankee Mark Twain was no fool--- He looked at the records of the past The Dark Ages--- Even without the amenities Of iPhones, computers and tvs. It had indoor plumbing, Was gaslit, a comfortable place. There, in King Arthur's dystopian courts--- For the work is a dystopian Science fiction about time travel--- Men were held in dungeons, Queens killed with impunity, Knights rode around aimlessly And killed one another for profit. The Church censored, and ruled With an iron fist. I read it, and am chilled by it. I read two works of Feudalism; Giving me an idea what it was really like. The cruelty, inhumanity, The callousness, the lawlessness, The gross things people did to one another. Believing in magic and mysticism Which fully believed by the nobility Strewn its luck throughout the kingdom In disastrous chains of misfortune. I've seen all I want to see of Feudalism. Let kings be antiquated, Capitalism flourish And let the poor be fed by their own work. As socialism in practice Is just Feudalism disguised. 28. A True Poet To be a true poet You must command a meaning With every word. Not Word associations Or random vocab lessons. 29. Blushed Facts Weak faith had I, when every truth Brought the blush of cherry tomatoes To my peachskin face. I looked And every good fact doubted. I held to faith... Would cut truth, And in faithless backbiting Tear down every bastion of knowledge. A fire, burning the chaff Of miracles, truth and beautiful exegesis. 30. Feud of the Avatars The painful stroke of marginalized Artists, making 50,000 florins, Taking up the apprenticeship of sire; Walking the path his father gave... When the two great masters met They hated one another, competing To best an adversary. Bitter and spiteful, Like Southey and Byron, Wordsworth and Shelley, Leonardo and Michelangelo... I watch like Raphael, Wondering at their chafe. Their unbridled hate. For all genius is welcome to me... I will applaud it. Yet, the modern sage says Michelangelo's unfinished Pieta is better than the one set in St. Peter's Basilica; Better than Moses and David For that, there can be no Raphael now... For the sophist says That exegesis is deferred to the reader And their capricious whims. I told him, I'd "burn my entire library "And everything I'd ever wrote "If you are right." Yet, his musings were divine... It was not jealousy, just the disrespect To communicated thought. Were Leonardo and Michelangelo Different? Were they not the same, Dissecting corpses, and both experts? Yet, Leonardo was jealous of the craft Of Sculpture, and Michelangelo Defiant in his defense. Why do I write? I tenderly ask this question when I see the sophist Has reign over the modern age. While I do not wish a scientist to determine the language--- While I do not want an algorithm to determine my meaning--- He says, "Language is not an algorithm, it expands, contracts..." I say to him, there is one thing I disagree with. One thing. I said that words can be understood. And for that, he ignored me. For we are not engines, but human beings; We can indeed understand. Like Leonardo's disrespect for Michelangelo's Sculpture, the terrific thing is that I am not Simply caked with dust like a baker. I form with words the sculpture of my architecture... And I wish them to mean something. Not just be a kaleidoscope of feeling. 31. Otherness My love, I had forgotten Smerdis was that Death, And Death my Doppelganger throughout my odes. My poem decries the cycle of civilization. How there is always a vacuum left where power begins to fail. In the Histories, Cambyses campaigned in Egypt, After his sire Cyrus had freed all his subjects; Cambyses sought to reconquer them. Thus, Smerdis arose to usurp power from his brother Cambyses--- Yet Smerdis was killed by Darius, So was justified because Smerdis was a changeling As the story goes---drawing a comparison with Smerdis To the Androgynous mobs of Death. Yet, I felt the presence of the poem, That its meaning defied even me... It was born from this author But---as the Archer told me in his village--- It had a sense of strange otherness. What I had made was beyond even my own interpretation. How I could forget something so key, There it was, beyond me, something I made and could now rediscover--- A poem I wrote had intrinsic meaning... Even its author need rediscover it. It was, then, its own being, Like I had given birth And the child grew. There the child was, Born of my seed, But something else. *** "Wrong does not cease to be wrong "because the majority share it." --- Leo Tolstoy *** "Look at a good poem like a proof, "and the single sentence summating its thought "the solution." --- B. K. Neifert *** 32. My Audience You are my poetry. I listen... what do those thoughts inspire? I know not anymore what they mean--- Only what you say about them. Do not come to me, and ask, "Does your poem mean, thus..." I do not know. I want to hear your words And interpret them like I do Eliot or Wordsworth. I want to listen. Do you not understand? I wrote so much to listen to you Tell me what they mean. I know what I meant by them... What do you see by them? I can listen, and understand you. You listen, and understand me. I wish to listen to you... Just tell me your honest thoughts. Know only one thing about me. I believe in Christ. But, tell me what you see in my poems And reveal to me mysteries I had not even fathomed. Reveal to me the hidden parcels of wisdom I did not see, nor conceive. Show me what they mean--- For do you not understand, Words have meaning? I say this over and over again--- Thoughts have meaning. Precise meanings. Do not shy away from telling me your thoughts. I will think over them, Mull over them... For that is what I want. I want you to think And speak important words. Not sit idly and talk about nonsense. Talk about something deep, And if poetry draws that out of you, I wish to listen and see the chrysalis of your thoughts. See, those reading my poems, You are my poetry. To have never had an audience To listen to, To never hear you tell me what they mean--- I am tired of my own thoughts... Do not make me blue. I wish to place wisdom Onto your lips, and make it rain forth. 33. To Understand a Poet The primary thing to understand About poets, is that "Love is not All" By Edna St. Vincent, I understand That when she wrote, "I do not "Think I would", it meant she wouldn't. There is no might about it. Also see it hopefully, That though love is not everything, It is still as necessary as all the rest. “The first principle of value that we need to rediscover is this: that all reality hinges on moral foundations. "In other words, that this is a moral universe, and that there are moral laws of the universe just as abiding as the physical laws." Rev. Dr. M. L. King Jr.
A Wise Story
There was a wise man Who took thirty silver coins And laid ten at a brothel, Ten at a bar, And ten at a temple. At the brothel, One of the whores saw the coins And thought it might be someone's Life savings, thus, she held it, And when the man returned, She said, "Is this yours?" The man replied, "Yes!" stunned that someone of such ill repute Would hold onto his ten shillings. At the bar, the same thing occurred, Where a man, seeing the money on the floor, Took the money and hid it in his pocket. There, the man came back And was handed the ten shillings. He was even more perplexed. Then, at the temple, One of the zealots in ecstasies of delusions, Saw the coins on the ground And thought it an answered prayer. They took it, and put one in the offering plate, And kept the other nine To purchase their family's needs. The man, coming to the church, So thrilled about the other two in his experiment, Thought for sure his money would be returned. It was not. Though this story is not true, We ought retain our faith regardless. For, in Jesus' day, was it not Tax Collectors and Sinners, Prostitutes and Vagabonds he dined with? Do not let your wisdom cloud your judgment. Anything is possible in this world By chance and circumstance. Rather, hold onto your faith, regardless of others.
Savage Thoughts
Aphorism 1. The Irish make the most beautiful music and poetry.
Aphorism 2. The Germans have invented all novel ideas, but were, usually, fatally wrong.
Aphorism 3. The English are unrivalled in their mastery of social sciences.
Aphorism 4. The Spaniard fights bulls because he is daring.
Aphorism 5. The Italian is practical, gregarious, yet has no illusions.
Aphorism 6. The Ethiopian is wise, yet mingles a little juice with the waters.
Aphorism 7. The Chinese and Greeks have uncovered all philosophical laws.
Aphorism 8. The American has always been stupid and always had a penchant for mischief. But, the greatest saints have rested here.
Aphorism 9. The Russian is a hearty friend, yet abuses authority.
Aphorism 10. The South African is strong in morale, as any white man.
Aphorism 11. The Black American enslaves themselves more than anyone else.
Aphorism 12. The Mexican can work hard and feel comforted by their family above all else.
Aphorism 13. The Brazilian is free.
Aphorism 14. Texas and California both have equal problems, just from opposite ends.
Aphorism 15. Pennsylvania is my favorite state because it is a true melting pot; throw a stone, and you'll find someone completely different. Nobody lives in a vacuum here.
Aphorism 16. The Indian has all the benefits of ethical teaching, and so have they a profound mastery over maths.
Aphorism 17. The Persian is wise, and has a good heart.
Aphorism 18. The Arab is a friend, and is noble.
Aphorism 19. The Egyptian is not radical.
Aphorism 20. The Jew is a superior man to all others; for they have overcome and thrived through all adversity.
Aphorism 21. Beauty isn't universal, though it ought to be.
Aphorism 22. There is good and bad; it's usually best discovered in dress.
Aphorism 23. The oldest civilizations in the world are Black, and also the happiest.
Aphorism 24. There are happy civilizations which do not believe in God.
Aphorism 25. The best civilization in the world had Christ; it abolished every slave, it freed a third of the world; it gave no prejudice to religion, race or gender.
Aphorism 26. It's funny how the more we muddy gender, the more sexist we become.
Aphorism 27. The price to pay for freedom is blood.
Aphorism 28. The ideals of an activist is always contrary to their practice.
Aphorism 29. Marx was a millionaire, and his followers are just like him: possessing all the fortune in the world, yet never satisfied.
Aphorism 30. The communist is just like I was; making thirty thousand a year, and unable to see that they were already free. In effect, they enslave themselves.
Aphorism 31. If it weren't for the Federal Reserve, or Central Banking, we'd be buying and selling everything online. I like to go shopping. Don't you?
Aphorism 32. I am not the perfect philosopher. I just listen and tell you what's already been said.
Aphorism 33. I do not Plagiarize. I just know that my writing will outlast everyone else's. So, I try to make the most sense, so the future doesn't forget the truth.
Aphorism 34. I will be published. And I will eat from my work. As the proverb goes, "Gather all that's needed, before starting to build the house."
Aphorism 35. Conspiracy Theories and Communism are trifles for the youth. The mature ought to understand mankind is incapable of accomplishing either.
Aphorism 36. Alex Jones ought not have been sued; it is his right to be wrong.
Aphorism 37. In an age where publicity happens spontaneously, I think the fourth amendment need protect us from our fellow citizen; not just the government.
Aphorism 38. I see no conspiracy of the government trying to hinder my livelihood. Rather, the conspiracy is the populace moving wherever they collectively will.
Aphorism 39. Satan is real. I don't believe man is intelligent enough to make conspiracies, but he surely can, often through subconscious hate and greed.
Aphorism 40. One thing common among Americans is their penchant to hate America. I don't hate America; I hate Americans. Only the most uneducated population could have elected such stupid officials.
Aphorism 41. Germans are educated, yet spiritually blind. One thing Providence does for America, is it protects us from our own ignorance.
Aphorism 42. Joe Biden being elected was providence. I believe there was no better option. We aren't at war, are we?
Aphorism 43. Ukraine is winning.
Aphorism 44. California is an example of leftist policies, and Texas an example of right wing policies. Pennsylvania is an example of when both exist equally.
Aphorism 45. Pennsylvanians said "Screw you," and we're freer and happier here than in Florida.
Aphorism 46. State's rights are good. It's the best thing about our Democracy.
Aphorism 47. Gas is affordable here precisely because we are not radical.
Aphorism 48. In Pennsylvania, Christ is everywhere. Seven Christian radio stations, two of them devoted to sermons; billboards up and down the highways, churches on every street corner. That's why we're sheltered. Let us never give up that faith.
Aphorism 49. The socialite hates Pennsylvania. She thinks we haven't a good culture. I disagree.
Aphorism 50. The only fault of Pennsylvania is our lack of a reliable Public Transportation system.
Aphorism 51. Purple mountains and golden prairies, only a fool would despise them.
Aphorism 52. Peppers add to life's variety.
Aphorism 53. An onion, garlic and salt are the three secret spices of any proficient chef.
Aphorism 54. Ginger and cinnamon go good with just about everything.
Aphorism 55. Creams, fats, acids, salts, sweets and spices. Master these, and you'll be a proficient chef.
Aphorism 56. To form the base of any dish, look at its tradition. Millennia oftentimes vet the ingredients to form perfect flavors.
Aphorism 57. A secret ingredient is the one or two things you do differently than the tradition.
Aphorism 58. Religion continues because it works. Its universal ethics apply, and create stable societies.
Aphorism 59. Good religions are ancient ones because they comprise universal moral values.
Aphorism 60. Mystery religions or dead religions die because they haven't vetted truths.
Aphorism 61. Philosophy is religion absent of deity.
Aphorism 62. Ethics are universal. We need God, ultimately, to judge.
Aphorism 63. Without God's judgment, the world would fall into total anarchy. Sin works, but it ultimately causes many to fall into calamity.
Aphorism 64. Power works through spiritual authorities. That is why one man can rule a nation.
Aphorism 65. Often the man ruling a nation is the portrait of its spirit. If that spirit dies, so does the leader.
Aphorism 66. Martin Luther King has become a martyr of the left's racism.
Aphorism 67. There are many paths to wealth, but the safest path is to stick to one path, and not multiple.
Aphorism 68. Failure breeds misanthropy in those around you. Forgive them when you're successful.
Aphorism 69. The masses are stupid. Yet, also perpetually wise.
Aphorism 70. One thing I learned during the Pandemic was that you couldn't fool a Pennsylvanian.
Aphorism 71. Covid wasn't a conspiracy, except that people overreacted to it.
Aphorism 72. Let them wear masks. Just don't force me to.
Aphorism 73. I'd rather die of bubonic plague, than deal with another year of Covid lockdowns.
Aphorism 74. I wasn't afraid of the virus, but of the stupidity of those around me.
Aphorism 75. People believe what they want to hear, and they also distrust official sources.
Aphorism 76. I doubt that I will be jailed for my writing. I also doubt that I will remain poor for much longer.
Aphorism 77. People are naturally appalled by sin. I discovered this delightful truth during everything that has gone on in the last three years.
Aphorism 78. A dictator, like a bad idea, runs its course with a sharp offensive, but ultimately gets diluted the further out it reaches.
Aphorism 79. Russia and China are proof that you cannot hold onto a bad government for too long. Even now, China is bored of its own conniving.
Aphorism 80. War runs its course. Let nation deal with nation. Don't let them ban together, and destroy the world.
Aphorism 81. It is the LORD Who establishes the nations' boundaries. Not man.
Aphorism 82. Canada is probably lost. It was LGBTQ+ that lost it.
Aphorism 83. Where the people are righteous, unrighteous laws shall not harm them.
Aphorism 84. The oppression of the last three years, was like an androgynous woman telling you where and when to use the bathroom.
Aphorism 85. Democrats are incompetent. I trust them in executive power over Republicans who actually get things done.
Aphorism 86. Bush and Trump were by far the Nation's worst presidents. Let's counteract the stupidity created by them.
Aphorism 87. It's not the Democrat's evil that I'm afraid of; it's the Republican's failure to do good.
Aphorism 88. Christ was not a socialist. He was in favor of Gold Standards.
Aphorism 89. Property is guaranteed by the law, "Thou Shalt not Steal."
Aphorism 90. If you ever actually read Marx, you'd see a real issue but not a real solution.
Aphorism 91. Nietzsche and Marx did not invent their crises. They saw it, and therefore warned of it. Though, each was on the wrong end of the solution.
Aphorism 92. Morality is self evident. Thereby God exists. Why? Because morality being self evident, Who ultimately must judge if the world decides to be immoral?
Aphorism 93. I think the end times will be when people know the truth, but flagrantly decide to disregard it.
Aphorism 94. It's a common musing of mine that evil people know Satan exists, yet pretend like they don't.
Aphorism 95. It's also a musing of mine that people know truth inherently, but disregard it because it's easier.
Aphorism 96. Love is difficult to nurture, therefore, evil people are those who just get lazy.
Aphorism 97. The right of the people is God given. There is no boundary which can move, save God decree it.
Aphorism 98. I love the United States of America.
Aphorism 99. March grass is green; April trees bloom.
Aphorism 100. The Robins mate in April.
Aphorism 101. David is on the far Western Horizon in spring.
Aphorism 102. The stars do not lie.
Aphorism 103. The deer mate in October.
Aphorism 104. The planets and moon, constellations and sun are like hands on a clock.
Aphorism 105. Know nature, and you will never be deceived.
Aphorism 106. David appears in December, and Goliath soon after.
Aphorism 107. The Triune appears in the summer, and doesn't set until winter.
Aphorism 108. The leaves unfold in May.
Aphorism 109. The summer leaf begins as a flower.
Aphorism 110. May springs, bring June things.
Aphorism 111. An October chill brings a November furnace.
Aphorism 112. Snow in winter time is precious.
Aphorism 113. The trees lose their leaves in December.
Aphorism 114. The winterberries are a sure sign. When they fall, it is probably February.
Aphorism 115. Blue Birds and Robins appear at spring time, but when you see them before, it is not good.
Aphorism 116. The mowing begins at Spring, and ends at Winter.
Aphorism 117. Love keeps warm by the winter fire.
Aphorism 118. The willow is the first tree in spring to receive her green.
Aphorism 119. The Robin would rather run than fly to escape.
Aphorism 120. A Robin before Springtime so with a fly in Winter: it's natural, yet untimely.
Aphorism 121. The forest's fragrance bears the subtle musk of a lover.
Aphorism 122. Holidays are good; the immature dislike them.
Aphorism 123. April fools this year was a gay one.
Aphorism 124. St. Patrick's Day is a gay little holiday.
Aphorism 125. Valentine's day is a day to make love with your spouse, or risk disapproval for a future romance.
Aphorism 126. Birthdays are good. Go have a bite to eat with the ones you love.
Aphorism 127. Christmas is a time to feast, and give to the poor and needy. For, the winter requires fat.
Aphorism 128. Thanksgiving is a feast to put fat on the bones for winter's hoary air.
Aphorism 129. New Year's Day is a feast; eat your traditional meals.
Aphorism 130. Easter's feast leads to strength for harvest.
Aphorism 131. If you celebrate different feasts, consider: they all will occur to give strength in season.
Aphorism 132. The Fourth of July, Juneteenth, Memorial Day and Labor Day, enjoy the frivolities of Summer.
Aphorism 133. Daylight Savings is probably the cause of Spring Suicide. Let the sun awaken you, and not the hour.
Aphorism 134. The sun is a clock, more precious than the hour hand.
Aphorism 135. When first entering the home, you can smell the good things best.
Aphorism 136. When the Bible says "Uncleanliness" is a sin, it means literal uncleanliness.
Aphorism 137. A good home smells natural. Not overbearing with the stench of perfumes, nor odiferous with the stench of animals, nor unpleasant. If the odor offends, then the residents likely will, too.
Aphorism 138. Nothing is better than a home cooked meal's fragrance wafting through the domicile.
Aphorism 139. The stuffing in the oven makes the whole house smell like thyme.
Aphorism 140. The most precious thing in the world is a good woman.
Aphorism 141. A good woman makes love, makes beds, makes soup and folds laundry.
Aphorism 142. A good woman buys fields, knits blankets, keeps clean and has spice.
Aphorism 143. A good woman has beautiful heart, loves her children, loves her husband and fills a house with love.
Aphorism 144. A good man is kind, is courteous, is chivalric and praises his wife.
Aphorism 145. A good man holds his wife, teaches his children, attends his business and works close to home.
Aphorism 146. A good man tells the truth, waits until marriage, is kind to his flocks and looks into the eyes of his wife with lively passion.
Aphorism 147. A good lover does not tire of their love, is disciplined to bear the hard times, listens and speaks kind words.
Aphorism 148. A good son is boyish, likes a little mischief but not too much, plays hard and does what his parents tell him.
Aphorism 149. A good daughter is girly, listens and commiserates, plays nice and does what her parents tell her.
Aphorism 150. A good person knows their distant relatives, stays within a day's journey of their family, works close to home and does not change much.
1. The Poetry of History
Dostoevsky and Tolstoy---
I had been elucidated too---
Never met.
Before I knew this,
I thought their meeting fated,
Yet after I knew it,
It became clear
It was the poetry of history.
Two witnesses, of equal skill,
Speak... never having met
To cross their antlers
And thereby destroy their works.
Providence moves with such a hand
Through history, to cause such
Fascinating little miracles.
For unimpeded by the other
Each made their witness of Mother Russia
In her soon collapse.
Yet, also, each man had died
Like the merciful men in scripture
Before God's wrath ever came nigh them.
2. Self Love
The most beautiful commandment;
The one which caused me to worship
That bless'ed Risen King, Jesus:
Though, the self-harming love of gross
Desires causes the human
Heart to believe that they have no
Self Love---so, their own "Self-hatred",
It seems, causes hate for others.
What yoke was ever loosed by love
Of Self? Does it not strengthen bonds?
To love oneself adds eternal angst
And misery to the soul. Make
It gay with an outpouring of
Love toward those lost souls around you.
For, seeking inwardly for truth
Does nothing but reveal one's heart.
This, we ought to know, is evil.
For, by seeking inwardly, we trap
Ourselves within the prison of
Our heart's each whim and desire.
3. A Squircle
A rounded square
Which to determine its dimensions
Is so laborious a calculation,
Yet, nonetheless, simply exists
In many utilitarian ways.
There are many innocuous things
We take for granted in life.
Even in some simple shapes,
There are such eccentricities
That it would take a Doctor of Math
Just to figure them out.
Of which, I am not one.
But, I pleasantly muse
Over their formulas
Knowing that greater minds than mine
Are hard at work.
4. Karl Marx
Surprisingly, he had a good family.
He had daughters which he loved.
He had a beautiful wife who stuck by him.
He had good friends. He had servants.
He has to be the most foul hypocrite to ever live.
5. Arthur Schiller
It is the man who wants freedom the most
Who is the same man who cannot live free.
Desiring freedom, he is under the steward of tyrant
After tyrant. Nowhere could he go, where he was free.
He was continually a slave to one nobleman or another.
The precious angst it created.
Precious is the angst, however,
For the man speaks a true desire of the human heart.
Though, unable to live free, he teaches all how precious freedom is.
Yet, I've found the purest freedom is to live nobly
And to keep pushing forward with the talent Providence has gifted you.
Then, at some point, one will break free;
For, to desire what is in your means and modest blessing
Is the true mark of someone who is free.
And to believe in God, for without God,
Even the freest man is never truly free.
He is always a slave to his earthly circumstance.
6. Sins I witnessed this Month
The dog snarled;
The owners gossiped.
The counselor taught
Mischief, to reward
Evil for evil, stripe for stripe,
Pain for pain.
The son would not
Go to see his mother.
The man accepted
The person of a
Woman who wore
What is unseemly.
Lovers from youth
Would not forgive.
Men and wives strove
So the women's
Adulteries were made acceptable
In his sight.
The joyful man
Was rebuked.
The righteous man
Is prickly.
An elderly woman
Was abused.
Fathers despised
Their sons.
Old friends said "Depart" to
One another.
7. The Story Teller
It is said that the one who tells the stories
Rules the worlds.
This is not true.
The one who tells the stories
Merely aligns their stories with the Author of Creation's.
For, if the story had not truth,
None would take pleasure in it.
8. The German and the Zulu
Like the Valkyrie and the Harpy
One with spotted wing,
And the other with speckled;
Both with arcane religion deifying savagery;
Thor's hammer is like the Shaman's skull;
The totem and the fetish both rule there.
Metallurgy is not foreign to Africa;
Nor is the fetish foreign to Germany.
The baptized sword or the shrunken head.
The bone jewel or the tattoo.
Greece and Songhai stand nigh you
Barbarians. Yet, you do battle
Speaking your magical incantations
One toward one another.
Let Imitatio Christi bring you forth to a better world.
Both elicit a certain drunkenness.
Germans a false precision, and salubriousness.
Zulus a wild and unrestrained pride.
Yet, the Germans observed the Slave Morality---
And the Zulus enslaved their kindred.
A society wearing robes
Is always more kind
Than the one which is naked;
Yet, it is the nude which wrestle one another in the pits.
Though this is not literally true,
Let the metaphors I write speak.
9. Racist?
The ignorance of a prudish pastor
Who says every pleasure is a grave sin.
The flagrant falsehood of a man who stands
Upon his lector and defiles love
With his homilies, saying, "Loves are aught!"
The Philosopher who must slice every
Word to tiny pieces, not listening
Always defining, diverting to a thousand hills.
The freed slave who wishes all else
To be a slave, ever, to he;
For he is angry about long
Forgotten woes. Those annoy me.
10. Joy is not Shallow
There was a famous man, whom with his tears
Cried over the shallowness of joyful
Music. I stopped to think: there is nothing
Deeper than joy; for it even sustains
Love through the darkest of times, and restores
Hope. Joy, rather, is not shallow but the
Deep well, where all the good things are drawn up.
11. Louie Louis
The imagination
Sees its own evil;
It makes flagrant an
Innocent offense.
Thus, what was simply a word
Becomes ten thousand evil thoughts.
What was a minor infraction
Becomes amplified to the basest evils
In the minds of the recurring gossipers,
All of which they have conjured.
12. Upon the Paths at Pinchot
My Love, my Lass, in bonny flowers I run through
As I see your face, more beauteous than the dew
Upon the steepled Blue-Bells, weeping that I find
You far away;--- upon two paths when shall they pass?
For your purest mien does show you are truly kind.
13. Husband of Youth
My love, I wait for you on shores
Of opal crests, where once I saw
You, in godly grace, innocent
And in your dress; you were so pure.
In my dreams, was Amarisa
Your name, that odious vision
Where I saw your heart was like mine,
Your loves telling you things unkind.
For, you had been left in your youth
By a husband betrothed, who looked
At you, was it ever in couth?
Yet, did he die or did fooresook
The Violet Flower with her
Precious, little, smiling face, poor?
14. Jerusalem's Streams
My love, this poem I write to you:
I am not a perfected man
Nor are you perfect, though despite
Your beauty, which is as the Land
Of Jerusalem in its time
Of fertility; I shan't find
A more beautiful doe in Nine
Thousand, and one more for your kind
Personality. Radiates
The spirit of God from your gate
Which, if I enter will be my
Precious treasure during the time
I'm given to Earthly toils,
You, my balm and Earthly oil.
I am saddened by the willow
Where I weep my loneliest tears.
For a river by the mountain
Sends forth its spry springs; do the years
Saunter by where the mountain flows
Into the streams: When will I drink?
15. Triangle
One would think the triangle
Be a simple shape to plot
In algebra.
Nope... its simplest requires calculus.
Its most elegant requires three lines of equation.
One can, indeed, make any shape
From linear equations;
I'm confident of this.
A good poem is formed like an equation---
Instead of numbers, one pieces together
Psychology and Sociology;
Nature and History;
Philosophy and Religion;
Wisdom and Action.
And like a triangle, simple
Things we take for granted,
Such as the existence of God
Or the why of good and evil,
Can be very difficult to figure out on our own.
16. Moral Truth
Simple shapes, even,
Have such eccentricities
That it would take an Engineer
To understand why they work.
I don't see why moral truth is any different.
Asking someone to reinvent moral philosophy,---
Which ancients had only barely grasped,
Men more brilliant than Einstein,---
Is like telling a grade school student
Whose highest math is long division
To discover the circumference of an ellipse.
And not only so, to reinvent it
Without any prior knowledge or schooling
In the subject. To essentially rediscover Calculus.
And especially, to blatantly
Disregard the ancients' discoveries.
Not only would the modern man disregard Euclid,
He would outright deny that Euclid ever found truth.
17. Selfishness
Selfishness is evil.
Love is evil, if purely for one's own gratification;
Then, it is not love, but is selfishness.
Selfishness taints all that it touches.
It darkens the mind with desire.
It satiates at others' expense.
It feeds on others' wellbeing.
It harms the soul of all around you.
It seeks its gratification always
Above all else.
Another word for it is "Self-love".
Draw strength from Christ,
Love outwardly, not inwardly,
Seek the welfare of others first.
Bear hardship and grief with outpourings of grace.
Build the soul of those around you.
Fill their cups until you are empty.
Perish before giving evil a foothold in your heart.
18. Mencius
A lecturer, in his naivety
Gracefully defended the decadence
Of America.
Contrasted against Mencius,
Our system did not hold up.
I come from a more ancient boundary.
America was free, but was bridled by
Religion's yoke, which kept her safe.
Without it, America has become dangerous.
Seeing the man speak in naïve words
Making America great because of its greed
It's disregard for parental authority,
Its disregard for all things good.
This is not the tradition handed down
By my fathers, but yet was broken
By my fathers, when the beginning
Of generational curses set in.
And four generations later
We have the generation which
Oppresses the poor and does violence.
Mencius was right---
As that was the Judges of Israel
Who having the Law of Jah
Followed it, and God ruled.
In China, the hierarchy
Of parental bonds and honor
Ruled. Righteousness, Propriety, Benevolence and Wisdom.
The Chinese did not listen to either Mencius
Or Confucius, until many moons later
When the countries were prosperous.
There are poor even in the United States---
We can see them on the street corners.
It is a universal problem of all mankind,
However, you can judge the civilization
By the affluence and number of their middle classes.
And China, under rule of Confucius,
Had a sizable middle class compared
To other ancient worlds.
What I see is good,
Is the filial respect
And the honoring of the commandment,
"Honor thy father and mother."
And also to honor the ruler.
Americans love to rebel against presidents.
We love to cast them at low approval ratings
While our affluence is greater than
Even the best ancient kingdom.
Yet, it was not our libertine attitude
Which garnered the wealth,
But the work of a generation
Who honored their family traditions
Back to the nation's founding.
And like all nations,
There is a generation which rebels,
And then brings forth its downfall.
19. In the West
In the West, we protect our citizens.
In the East, they do not.
As horrible the government in America is
It does not reach one thousandth of the violence
The Chinese and Russian Governments commit.
We can be impressed by their philosophers;
We can be impressed by their affluence;
We can be impressed by the appearance of freedom.
We can be impressed by the abundance of food.
We can be impressed by the happiness of their citizens.
Underneath that, however, is a machine
Which kills for pleasure, and enslaves many.
The citizens are unruly and wicked in the West.
They deserve to be punished, but by whom?
Will China or Russia be that whip?
When, their citizens are righteous and salt of the Earth?
Personally, I'd rather live unmolested by my government
And tolerate the abusive inhabitants while patiently learning virtue,
Than live a righteous life and be in perpetual fear.
The principles of Chinese Philosophy are true,
Yet the government are sophists.
The government rules benevolently,
Yet it deliberately kills people it deems unworthy.
What compassion or benevolence is that?
None whatsoever. A poor beggar can still live happily
If he have love in his heart.
And often they have love in abundance
While the rest of the affluent masses do not.
Would I rather live underneath a hypocritical government
Where the people are good and kind and right?
Or, would I rather live underneath a just government,
Where my neighbor will oppress me, yet also be struck down by Law?
The latter, of course. I can tolerate the evil of my neighbors
If I am still fed by the fat of the land.
China is a golden city of philosophy
And at one point in time in its history it actually
Lived by the standards it preached.
But, I'd rather serve under a well ordered government
Where corruption can even be rooted out,
Than a hypocritical one that bears no shame.
20. Charity
Many think that by giving the homeless
Aught they need, they will ultimately be successful.
This is not true. The homeless, the abjectly poor,
If given all their desires will do what all men do.
They will spend it on their belly, then their members,
And then growing affluent, they will seek to destroy.
For, men who have gained a fortune without work
Will become bored, and must seek to muse themselves
Like any other man.
Rather, every poor man you see, give him his immediate
Need. Proportionate to that. Do not give him excess,
Do not give him below the means he needs.
Give to him his immediate needs only.
Do not pass him by and say, "I wish to teach this man
"How to take care of himself." Some men cannot.
If you must, bring them into your houses,
And be their servant, but vet the ones you help
And make sure they are not swine.
Give proportionally, to each his immediate need
And no further. For, excess will create waste.
A poor man is uneducated. Therefore, he does not know
How to conduct business. It is not his fault that he does not know this
But, you will not do anything for him that he cannot do for himself.
If the poor man gets wisdom, he will invest his money and time
On an occupation, and will accrue fortune on his own.
If the poor man cannot, he will remain poor
And such a one needs their portions like any other man.
Passing him by on the street, and saying,
"I ought to teach him how to make his fortune,"
Will not feed him, will it?
Yet, giving him everything, so he has no lack,
Will only create waste.
These are the harsh realities of charity.
If you have a day's bread in your pocket
Give the poor man that.
If you have a day's shelter in your pocket,
Give the poor man that.
That is what he needs, and no more.
Any more, and he will in five years time
Find himself in prison, for his lack comes from idleness.
Yet, some men cannot do anything but be idle.
These men, their work is to beg.
Give them their portion, what they need,
And no more. And also, no less.
You will help them by doing this
More than by giving a fortune away
Or by needlessly pondering on how you can teach them to knead dough.
Yet, always feed him with kind words
Proportional to your kind gift.
21. Goethe
Having the 200iq he did,
He made a good life for himself.
His unpopularity comes from
This fact, so said a man in a lecture I once heard.
The man in the lecture
Was the American
Fully embracing everything
Popular about Americanism.
I heard him speak on Mencius,
And it's like these men were
Aliens to his own understanding of the world.
What I draw from Goethe is a supreme
Sympathy... Given his highest IQ
He could see both sides of every argument
And be fully convinced of it, simultaneously.
Yet, his personality did not fracture;
He held both viewpoints within one being.
Though, there is something cute about the way
The lecturer understood their subject
Intellectually, but did not fully grasp
Or agree with it. I like him because he is an American
Unapologetically. Naivety reams from his lectures;
A blind acceptance to a miserable code.
Yet, he like Goethe is happy---
He sees in Goethe the pursuit of life's joys.
There, I see it, too. I am not an intellect infatuated
With the world's suffering.
I am infatuated with joy and peace.
Yet, I look to the conditions of what makes man happiest.
Not very many men have iqs above 200
And thereby, can inherit fortunes
And forge for themselves happiness.
I know I can, through my writing,
Like he with his own.
However, a daemon once said of Goethe
"I wish he had died miserable."
And the lecturer thought,
"Genius must suffer."
I chuckled. True geniuses do not suffer;
What makes them truly genius
Is their ability to forge happiness
In this world.
22. My Politics
1. Freedom
A. Speech
Every man, woman and child ought to be given the right to speak. If racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, sacrilegious, or otherwise deemed offensive, a man, woman or child ought to have the right to speak it. It does not mean they cannot be censured. However, every citizen needs the right to express themselves freely, without threat of being denied a livelihood. No one, therefore, should be allowed to deny someone the opportunity to earn bread because of something they had said.
Freedom of speech is so important for democracy, that in protecting what we dislike, we also protect ourselves. I cannot stand sacrilegious jokes, but I have no right to deny another man his portion for speaking what I disagreed with. The same thing applies in reverse. Everyone ought to have the right to speak uncensored, and unhindered. This does not mean that certain improprieties cannot get one fired. This does not mean one ought to be allowed to say curse words and not be fired from a position of employment, if such word caused a guest to be offended. But, should the citizen express a view on a social media platform or in public, that ought not be taken into consideration, whether a nude photo, a homophobic or racist remark, or a sacrilegious comment, or anything otherwise deemed as offensive. Humans err, and change, and sometimes they don’t want to admit it. Giving grace to what is said is the best measure for retaining a freer society. Not allowing the mob to censor.
B. Religion
Everyone ought to have the right to worship the god they choose. So long as worship of that god does not cause another harm. So long as worship of that god doesn’t cause an animal harm. And by harm, I mean by recourse of the common law, not some fabricated offense of impropriety, or some mischievous harm caused by a petty disagreement. I mean real, physical harm which causes physical pain. As, religion’s job is to not only discipline its adherent, but also teach them a set of moral values. And in doing so, the citizen can be better suited for society.
Therefore, religion is best free. To worship any god, whether personal or on a grand scale. To believe in whatever spirits one wishes. To bow to whatever fetish. So long as there is no harm being committed in the religion.
In the manner of cults, so long as they do not put their adherents in physical danger, they ought be free. A proper education ought to be employed to steer unwitting folk away from cults, but they pose no true danger to a society, save they engender an atmosphere of true physical harm.
In manners of emotional abuse, no such thing can be considered harmful. Religion’s job is to teach temperance, therefore, one ought to learn to control themselves, as is the effort of any great sage, and any great disciple of any religious system. It ought not be legislated.
C. Press
The printing press ought to remain completely unregulated. However, mass media needs regulated. The tools of propaganda are so adept right now, that it can destroy civilization from within. Simply put, graphic images, terrorist organizations bent on doing actual harm to citizens or the state, explicit sexual images, nudity, violent images, child exploitation, solicitations for sex and banned words should have no place on public platforms. They ought to be regulated, and not allowed to be exposed to the public.
As for conspiracy theories, urban legends, strange religious ideas, counter cultural viewpoints, these ought to remain freely disseminated. As, the point of regulation of the press is to censor explicit materials, and not simply to ban viewpoints we do not agree with. Pornography, explicit language, nudity, violence, these things ought to remain out of the public’s view.
D. Petition
I do not know an instance where a petition actually changed a law. But, in the instance where the democracy is in peril, petitioning is the freedom most useful. It can unwool the cloak which the corrupt democracy and media likes to pull. It can speak the truth, where the lies of publicity do not. If such a right were taken away, it would damage democracy significantly. As, the point of the petition is to show the true workings of democracy, should any corruption be had nigh the ballot. It might seem fanciful, but it can work.
E. Assembly
Anyone should be able to assemble. Whether at the Congress Lawn, whether on a New York Street Corner, whether on a back street or pub, or home… no one should be forbid the right to assemble. This is one of our most violated rights. And it’s one of the most important. People ought not block public events or traffic, nor cause disruptions. But, they can peacefully assemble where they will, and I’d say even without permits.
F. Bear Arms
The bearing of arms is to protect the nation. Both against invaders, and against internal threats. It is the right of a people, I think, to keep and bear arms. To protect themselves from a corrupt government, if need be. And such a time, there will be government officials who purposely ally with the cause of those armed. Whereby, if a civil war is needed to restore order in the country, there will be those in government who fracture off of the rest, and take with them government resources to be used in the fighting. As is the necessary means of any coup; from which, a successful ordering of law needs to be in place, and a distinct governing body precedented on the established order of law and governance. Such a case, the arms would be needed, and every citizen ought to have a right to bear them for this instance. As this is a freedom granted to us in the Declaration of Independence. And is, in fact, the first law our government instituted.
G. Privacy
The citizens ought to be protected against the government’s spying, as well as their fellow citizen. In our age, it is less the government’s intrusion on our lives---save medical records and other records which the public keeps, which ought to be forbade to be retained---but the private citizen who corrupts and violates their fellow citizen’s right. To avoid this, it ought to be a part of common law to prosecute those who violate the privacy of their fellow citizen, even those who are famous. One should not be able to keep databases, or records of private citizens' affaires.
H. Jurisprudence
Citizens ought to have the right to fair trials. And trials by jury.
I. Protection from Other Citizens
Laws are created to protect a civilization from internal threats. Such as murder, rape, theft, bribery, extortion---yet, also, a citizen should be unhindered from their fellow citizen and have none of their freedoms dampened. Thereby, if a citizen owns a country store, they ought not have the right to shun employment from someone based on their opinion. If someone writes a book, it ought not be banned as a matter of fact, because the public wishes it so. The writer is free to attempt to write their own works. If they fail, and were unhindered, then it is their freedom to fail. Yet, if someone hindered them, the one who is hindering has not that freedom.
J. The Constitution and the Civil Rights Charter
I believe in the Constitution and Civil Rights Charter. Those are my political platform, to the letter. This is a condensed version of it, but my ideals are found in both of those beautiful documents. The UN’s statement is perhaps one of the most beautiful ever created, next to the United States’ Constitution. And I stand by them with all my heart.
2. Economics
A. Cash Money
It ought to be the right of citizens to have a cash monetary system. Not having so would be an ethical violation of enormous proportions. It would force the citizen to have technology in order to buy and sell, and such a thing could only be the forbade mark prophesied by John at Patmos.
B. Free Market
A citizen ought to be able to buy, sell, and publish whatever they wish. Save in the instance of public utilities or mass media, citizens ought to be free to go about their business and day to day lives unhindered.
C. Stipends
There ought to be public programs, such as welfare, public health insurance policies, housing plans,---yet, those citizens receiving such stipends ought to be required to show some work. No one ought to receive stipends without proving they are making contributions. If none will purchase their contributions, or their products are not marketable, such a person still ought to find work. As, work is necessary for a life purpose, and without it, people riot, burn and destroy, and ultimately will kill themselves. This issue is a hairy one, and needs some looking into. As, I believe there ought not be a product which has no market---if the product is good. If someone can indeed create a product to sell, there ought to exist a market for it. Which will lead into the next segment.
D. Big Corporations
There ought to be no corporation so large, that it eats up even a fiftieth of the market. A business ought to be capped on growth at one billion dollars, and trusts strictly disallowed, thereby, to allow those who do not have means to also find a place in the economy. Thereby, Copyrights ought to be shortened, Trademarks and Patents ought to be shortened, and unable to be renewed. As, the issue with the current standard is that those unable to work simply cannot find fulfilling work. It’s not a matter of being unable to work, but being unable to fully express their genius, because a larger corporation like Nike has a corner on all the shoes. Therefore, making it so corporations cannot grow beyond a certain measure ought to curb this, and allow the economy to be more localized.
3. Criminal Justice
A. Criminal Records
There ought to be no records of criminality beyond the person’s served sentence. Such a thing only hinders the offender from ever getting past their sentence. And, it also creates situations where individuals are given lengthy and unlawful sentences where they suffer for long periods of time for minor infractions. Therefore, there ought to be no Criminal Records or Sex Offender Registries. It might seem counter intuitive, but people all need an equal chance at regaining their footing in life. Without it, we see the rioting and burning in the cities. The Black Lives Matter movement is caused by criminal records, as blacks are incarcerated at high rates, and can never then be integrated back into society without a stigma attached to them for life. Criminal Records need to be compulsorily expunged on the date of the sentence’s end.
23. Alien
There is no such thing.
It is just a demon;
A mass hallucination;
A photorealistic Pixilation;
A madness.
24. The Arrogance of Truth
Goethe argues on the shade,
And hails experience determines color.
Newton claims the color is inherent
Within the object, by reflected wavelength.
Scientists argue about it for centuries.
Did it ever occur to any of them
That both could be simultaneously true?
Like all systems of knowledge
Invented, the inventor thinks it is exclusive.
Obviously, light is experienced subjectively
For no two objects are nigh a source of light the same.
Yet, obviously, within any object is its inherent color.
Yet, it is... The color exists and can indeed be described.
Though the light reflects off the table a white
And though the shadow creates multitudes of shade;
It can be described accurately. It is as scientific
As Newton's inherent color.
This is too wise for those who wish
To calculate and say that truth is subjective---
For, it is not. Color in both cases can be accurately described.
One on the chemical level, and the other on the photogenic level.
What we learn is that light interacts with color
Differently, depending on where the source is.
I'm sure I'm not the only one to have discovered this.
I look at Goethe, so impressed by phenomenology.
To express our differences---yet we are all inherently the same;
We can indeed know the experiences of others;
Just the same that Goethe can write about his.
Fools are enamored by slight differences.
Wise men are enamored by the consistency of life;
Yet, the opposite is true for the fool
When it suits their aims at committing mischief.
For, truly, there are only righteous men and wicked.
Each will find their wisdom in either truth or folly.
To me, it is folly to believe that either system must
Be the only law or the only axiom. Truth is multifaceted,
And based in objectivity. It is not, however, based in personal opinion.
What is my truth, is also your truth;
It just so happens that I may not suffer for the same reasons you do.
25. The Cycle of Nations
The nation enters into its colonial age;
It is founded by strong men.
It grows through its various wars,
And if it survives them,
It grows into its golden age.
America, she had two golden ages
And lucky were her inhabitants.
Then, the golden age disintegrates
Into pleasure-seeking.
The beautiful highways, architecture
Ethics and culture which built the nation
Begin to come under scrutiny.
The inhabitants then begin to focus
Their arts on effeminate objects
Or grotesque objects.
It starts in the intelligentsia
And then bleeds down into the masses.
When this happens, the masses
Are as opulent as kings;
Then, there comes a first crisis.
If the crisis is averted,
Some three and a half generations later
There comes a second.
I do not know of any thirds.
26. Captivity
Nations are burdened by periods of long-suffering
Equal to the opulence of their citizens.
It is not a sin to be wealthy; for comfort
Breeds an environment where suffering
Cannot choke out compassion.
Yet, the decadence of generations
Who inherit their predecessors' wealth
And become idle in their work;
Refusing to do work, or take up no activity,
And leech off the fat of the previous generations,
This leads to a corruption so deep and bitter.
The citizens become worse than any tyrant.
Then, by their own designs, does corruption
Seep into governments, and like a whip
The government cracks against the back of its citizens.
Where once they were free, they are now bonded
By their own greed and lust, and desire for idleness.
Then, they suffer for, sometimes, six generations.
The people who are natured to be violent die
And the ones who are hearty and compassionate survive.
The government continues to be wretched
Until the people rise up, and challenge it;
For they have been chastened, and must no longer
Bear the grief. Or, if they still be wicked,
The government holds them for another generation.
As a good man living in one of these times;
The very few of us there happens to be,
Remember Daniel, Meshach, Shadrach and Abednego.
They were protected in the lion's dens;
They were not singed by the furnace.
Or Mordecai and Esther, righteous were they.
Or Ezekiel, righteous was he.
The fact is, one ought to remain silent under the oppression
And bear it with grace. For, six good men cannot
Save a nation. They can only save themselves.
27. mein Freund
To be of the
World but
Not in it
Is the same
As being in the world
But not of it.
This wisdom
Brought me
A good friend.
Forgetting it,
We separated.
For, we must
Not love the world.
That is what it is truly
Saying.
28. The Parent's Song
My sweet child, make your bed
So when you sleep, you rest your head
Upon the soft and orderly, divine.
My sweet child, clean your room
So when you work, you can be true
And not be burdened by what's vile.
My sweet child, do your chores
So when you're old, you will be sure
That you can be well to do your daily hire.
My sweet child, learn the gift of no
So you can be joyful in rain or snow
And not live life burdened by desire.
My sweet child, eat your peas
And carrots, sprouts and vegies please,
So you can grow to have great strength and mind.
My sweet child, eat a little sweet
So you can live so happily,
And be blessed even in life's sour brine.
My sweet child, do these things
And you will live to see the spring
Of winters many and good times.
29. Gossip
The central theme of all conversation
Is centered around the social clique.
If you really wish to interest someone
Talk about someone you both mutually know.
I? I have no interest in doing this.
That is why I am so unpopular.
I would rather talk about man collectively
Than any one individual person.
As I find that rude.
30. Young Adult Group
The Young adult leader puts together a good program.
They get a beautiful flock.
Then, after getting his taste of power,
Wishes to go off and found his new church.
That beautiful flock scatters
And looks at me spitefully
For being right all along about the vanity of its pastors.
Is it just I? Or did I tell you all along what would happen?
They wanted a cooler group, and thereby destroyed
Your church, to obtain the popular and trendy crowd.
Yet you all looked at me like a lunatic
And treated me the same?
Where is my brother's church family?
Where did they go? Your pastor saved him
Or was it I all along who planted the seed?
Did you listen to his slander, and get a foul taste in your mouth about me?
Well, I cultivated the seed in both of them;
Where's the shepherd who will watch over it?
31. Dissonance from the World
I. Philosophy
It is vain.
What does it teach
Save that "God is dead?"
It teaches truth cannot be found.
It teaches love is for the self.
It teaches pleasure is all there is.
It teaches there is no good.
It teaches to suffer blindly.
It confuses what is obvious.
It creates an idol.
It causes its practitioner to doubt.
It is vain.
II. Philosophy
But, when it grasps truth
It strengthens faith.
For, it is "Love of Wisdom."
And its truths point to Christ.
They toil over arcane mysteries
Yet, Christ being our Rabbi
Can let us unravel it for them
All the good thinker knows
Is Christ.
III. Desire
Also, I have become acquainted with the world's love.
Para mores are common.
Which is better?
Loveless marriages with paramours
Or husbandless women
Raising fatherless children?
For order's sake, the former
A cuckold at least loves
What he mistakenly thinks
Are his spawn.
They grow non the wiser.
The woman pledges
Her undying love
Yet eats from another table...
Another vine.
It is a sad world
We live in, where no one
Truly ever could find love.
A sacred gift:
It always was perverted.
Let the damed play
That game, and never
Know true joy.
IV. Love
Marc and Erin could not even
Conceive of the word
"Paramour". Their love was so strong.
Anyone who has truly loved
Would be offended
AT the mere thought of
Whatever the world has
Done to love
To make it not
Universally understood.
The love I know
Is so sweet, and real.
It trusts, never fails.
It is a friend; I read that
Somewhere in some great
Thinker's words.
The romantic seeks either
The nobler passions
Or she seeks the instinctual passions.
Man, by instinct, is a wicked creature
This, look to my noble
Passions; what pleasures I felt
And needn't remorse.
1. The Anima And Animus
I've encountered this in Jung's philosophy. First, I thought they were foolish, but then I recognized the confusion of the younger generations on Gender Fluidity, and how this is being taught in the schools.
The feminine is the feeling. The masculine is the rational. The feminine is the nurturing. The masculine is the protective instinct. The feminine is the individual. The masculine is the collective. The feminine is the familial; the masculine is the societal.
I thought to myself, "The confusion of the current generation on gender..." That, having the fluidity---described by Jung as the androgynous aspect of the soul---it seems our expressions of Gender Fluidity are actually a reaction to the universal androgyny of the self. That both men and women have rational and emotional capabilities, both men and women have nurturing and protective capabilities. Both men and women have individual and collective instincts. Both men and women have familial and societal instincts. And in this, the confusion of the inner self is expressing itself, now, in the androgyny of sex and sexual identity.
I think it's important that people---all of us---understand there is androgyny in the soul. That we all share aspects of feminine and masculine gender identity within our souls. Rather, the detrimental side of Gender Fluidity is the expression of that androgyny in the persona. Which is not where it belongs. It's taking things deeper than the shadow---more primal and instinctual---and drives them to the consciousness and into the persona.
The danger of this is simple. One does not want their shadow integrated into the persona. We call this "Toxic Masculinity", yet it's more fundamentally the latent aggression of the psyche becoming conscious in the persona, which is dangerous because it doesn't allow the person to integrate and thereby flow with healthy civilizations. Same thing with the deeper elements, of the Anima and Animus. If we drive those into the persona---into the superficial face we wish to show to the world---we are driving confusing aspects of our nature into the persona. We are, in effect, confusing what is our deepest psychical nature with something we show to the external world.
I think this is dangerous, for obvious reasons. The confusion it creates, telling children that something normal---something observed throughout history, in the form of Atalanta or King David---of the Anima and Animus being expressed in individuals... We understood this, yet we didn't reject that---these characters of the androgyny of the soul,---but rather, we didn't let them be driven into our persona, by manipulating people's perceptions of us to truly accept our darker nature. Rather, our dark nature ought to be hidden, and expressed in things like humor, stories and only be something which influences us from the dark places they reside, which is the deepest layer of the psyche.
It seems like the current mentality is to draw out our deepest latent psychical things, the Shadow and Anima and Animus, into the persona, and to drive our subconscious into the conscious. Now, forgive me if I must say, our subconscious is the same thing that dreams, and dreams seem to me most unconstructive. If anyone were honest, they would tell of dreaming of murder, suicide, promiscuity, and many other deeply evil things. And that's the danger, is driving that dream world into the conscious, into the persona. As, now are we not subduing the aggression, the androgyny---we are expressing it in our very superego. And frankly, being there people will be able to commit just about any crime, if our subconscious is unfiltered by the self and denied access to the ego and persona. As, then the more rational functions of mankind prevail, if one accepts the fact that sex is biological, and gender ought to remain correlated with sex. As, we all have androgyny latent in our subconscious. And that androgyny does not belong in the ego nor persona in healthy civilizations. Rather, reversing the Persona to reveal our darkest nature leads to that darkest of nature spilling out into the areas of life where it doesn't belong. It's bringing the Dream World into the Real World;---and I think that's unconstructive, if not very dangerous.
Because one thing I notice in Homosexuals, and Non-binary genders is the driving of their subconscious into the conscious, thereby trying to create a persona developed around the psychologically dangerous parts of our mind. Which, exist possibly for the purpose of giving men and women ways to relate to one another, and also to help us share in one another's burdens. But, driven into the conscious, we are no longer sharing one another's burdens, but becoming one another's burdens by tyrannizing one another with our aggression and androgyny.
2. Sir Gawain and Ovid Comparison and Contrast
Ovid and the Gawain Poet. I'm reading these two heavy-weights together. Both are, Hugo de Masci. Both are “Bright minded, and expert servants of the craft.†I don't believe Hugo de Masci is a name of the Gawain author. Rather, I think it is, if communicated, a feat of the author being humble, and showing the skill he wields with the pen. As with Ovid, there is mastery of the Greek Mythos. Both crafting stories which are sublime, coherent and easily understood.
There are some artefacts which I draw from Ovid. His obsession with unhealthy romance, illicit sex... and then The Gawain Poet playing with the boundaries of fidelity. It's like both poets are straining against one another. Both are communing with one another. In a cycle of time, where neither ethos was likely to meet the other---it's possible The Gawain Poet read Ovid. But, rather, the response of Chivalry to the romanticism of Ovid's adultery.
It's important to know that Ovid had been exiled, likely for his stance on adultery. It is also further likely that The Gawain Poet was pushing the boundaries of adultery. Seeing where the line was crossed. Or really, striving for the line. Seeing what boundary would be crossed that would prove fatal.
Ovid's obsession with flirtation and sex is found in his romanticized version of the gods in Roman Religion. It's unclear whether the Romans believed in the gods, but it seems like Ovid is clearly showing the blatant affairs of the gods to poke fun at Augustus's mandate that adultery be illegal. If the gods committed adultery, what reason ought Ovid not?
Then, of course, there is the Chivalry code in Gawain. It plays with adultery---as some of the best poets do---pushing to where the crime is fatal. Is it a kiss? Two kisses? Three kisses? Dishonoring the lord of the house by taking the sash his wife had given, and then not presenting it to him in order to avoid death? Is it in the close and instant chemistry between the lord's wife,---who's more beautiful than Guinevere,---with Gawain? Their conversations, their obvious fatal attraction, the desire they have to be close to the king while in company? What's even more revelatory is that the King is not jealous of this instant attraction between Gawain and his wife. There is a sort of revelation that the whole thing might be contrived by the king---yet, we can rightly say that there is a bond between Gawain and the King's Wife that is chemical, visceral... And Gawain steals six kisses. But, he tells of the kisses to his lord. Obviously the kiss is more important than the sash of immortality.
Ovid, of course, the opposite holds true. gods make frivolous love to maidens, sisters become unhealthily obsessed with their brothers, nymphs almost get raped. It becomes clear that the attitude toward sex reflects that of the Grecian religion. Which is flailing in front of Augustus. Showing him, no proving him that it is counter the will of the idols of Rome. Yet, somehow it prevails that adultery is wrong while Ovid has forgotten this. And there is a conscious reading of Metamorphoses, the almost dreamlike waking up when the crime is about to be committed. Then the dream narration of the poem moves toward the magical Deus Ex Machina of the Nymph being turned into a knoll. Or, in the other case, of the universal law being yielded to, and a brother utterly rejects his sister's love. Ovid is not aware of this---rather, I think he'd almost prefer it if the passions were acted out. Pan chasing Sirynx has that feel of a child chasing his girlhood friend on the playground. The thrill of the chase, and the naughty deed that never happens.
It's unclear to me what these two opposed systems portray. It's obvious that adultery is celebrated in today's society---I understand it now. It's obvious that the code of Chivalry is dead. Yet, which system would produce the better customs? More inversely, which world was more disdainful of adultery? It seemed like The Gawain Poet pushed the boundaries of the norm---though not readily accepted at his time. And then Ovid was banished. Do the poets always entertain naughty themes? Murder, sex, rape, theft... And why do they? They obviously do for the reason that those naughty things are in us, and we need them purged from us through art.
And what's even more important, is today's society getting offended by stories. Even in Ovid's time, the king tolerated tales of adultery committed by the gods. Ovid wrote of rape. The Gawain Poet wrote on a boundary which would offend many's customs. Yet, today it prevails that adultery is celebrated. Even noble. Why? It doesn't produce happiness. As we've seen. And the story is not tolerated, while the act of adultery is accepted. Pushed into the subconscious, the story is meant to act upon the desire, without really doing so. Yet, when the story is wrong, and the act is right, what can be said? If the story offends the audience because it portrays something taboo, then will not the taboo become active rather than passive? As, the story is a dream. First it brings one to the naughty deed, then it pacifies the naughty dream like it had never happened. Waking up the reader from the dream and the desire. Both satisfying it, and cutting the guilty conscience to allow them to realize “It was only a story.â€
Rightly, that's what the story is meant to do. It's meant to cut us. Even Bible Stories play this role, as I can see no other meaning for the story of the Levite who cuts his concubine into pieces, after she is raped. Though this is a true story, there is something built in us that feeds on the macabre. There is something in us that wants to see entire civilizations destroyed to the last child, and then to wake up from it so we can better appreciate peace. There is a fascination with war and not peace in the human mind. We are readily aware of peace. But, we do not know war. We do not know crime. So, the artist---possibly having committed certain crimes or gone to war---puts on a moral display for us, to wake us up from the moment of the deed. And thereby, appeasing our curiosity while at the same time telling a moral tale on why not to do it.
Stories are integral for that reason. When they're done right. As, stories can often be the most damaging thing on the psyche if they delve into concepts of bathos. Bathos being graphic sex, gratuitous murder or the elevation of the passions. Or kitsch, which is the indulgence of lustful or aggravating themes. Such things as Pan and Sirynx, if Sirynx did not turn into a knoll. Or Narcissus and Echo, where Echo becomes the true villain. Such things are contrary to the Logos and Nature.
So I have just revealed the mystery of a story.
3. Shakespearean Sonnet 1-126
One day I intend to do a line by line analysis of the poem. Since everyone ought to study one epic poem in their life---study it intensely, knowing each nuance, each line, each rhythm---The Shakespearean sonnets will be my subject.
However, upon reading them, I was fully immersed in the notion that Shakespeare was singing about a gay lover. I had begun reading the first 126 lines with that in mind. However, I don't think that's an appropriate reading, and I'd like to explain some of my reasons why.
For one thing, the beginning of the poem seems to insinuate that the subject being carried up was something like a son to Shakespeare, and that this individual had died, or was wounded, while courting a woman. With this in view, it makes a lot of the passages more clear, rather than more opaque. And further, if we account the latter portion of the Sonnets to the subject's mother---the Black Lady---we begin to bring a tapestry of what the poems are about. Hamnet. Whom, probably, was Shakespeare's son to a Concubine, and being encouraged to find a wife and bear a son, he had gotten himself into trouble like Romeo. There's one sonnet in particular where Hamnet is described as Shakespeare's muse in all of his work. And if it's a gay lover, I don't think one can find Romeo and Juliet from that, but rather the plot structure of the first few Sonnets seem to tell a Romeo type story of failed courtship which was fatal.
Further on, there's some references to Shakespeare being a "Slave" to the subject of the poem. Some requite this as gay love, but I find it more probable that Shakespeare is using a device of irony to say that he was his Concubine's Son's slave. Which is more in line, that the adoration---and reference to Hamnet's fair skin and Cheeks---seem to be references to his availability for courtship and the wrong committed against him.
There are some twenty passages I've found that directly relate to death, that the subject has died, and then the poem begins to fracture into two distinct characters. Love and then the Character of Hamnet who becomes a symbol of love. The character, Love, is possibly a reference to the fame of his poem. If Love should die, then nobody would read the Epitaph of Hamnet's. If Love keeps men reading the poems, then love lives even after Shakespeare's death. Then Hamnet, in turn, lives on through Shakespeare's poem. As there are two distinct individuals being talked about in the poem. Separated. There is Hamnet who died. And then the figure of Love, whom Hamnet becomes a symbol for. And the reading of the poem is what preserves the love.
There's several hints that Shakespeare believes the poem will be skewed by the "Sluttishness of Time"; that is, somehow he could foresee the Logos being skewed, and then maybe this faulty interpretation becoming canon. I believe Shakespeare had some inclination that the poem was going to be interpreted as erotic, when he never intended it to be erotic. As the poem's subject is Love. The character in the poem whose cheeks are often referred to is dead or near death, while Love lives on and is continued to be enjoyed for as long as his poem is read, and the epitaph is read. As, the poem several times calls itself an epitaph for the individual in the poem. It is a love poem of a Father's devotion to his Son who died unfairly, when courting a woman. There can be no other interpretation, for the poem is cognizant of its being skewed toward eroticism---several times the poem is self aware that it could be misrepresented or misunderstood. And it might even seem inappropriate for a father to write such a thing about his deceased son. And Shakespeare is cognizant that Love itself could be misrepresented by the poem. It seems embarrassing, as a writer at that time was not prone to using such emotionality.
However, let us look at the possibility of Shakespeare singing a homoerotic song. Then why refer to the subject having died so often? In the sonnets are some thirty references to death having already happened. Anywhere there is a slight hint of the poem becoming erotic, the next sonnet will bring one to bear with the truth that the poem is actually about Hamnet. Perhaps the "Slutishness of time" was precisely the erotic reading of the poem, that Shakespeare was subtly aware of being a possible rendering. It might have been indecent for a father to sing about his son that way, or the boy might have been commonly known to be of African descent. In either case, the poem is speaking of a Father's love, and his epitaph to his son who became the embodiment of love, having pursued a woman whom he was unequal with for the time's standard.
It is my imagination that Shakespeare was a good man, who loved his son, and when his son wanted to court the woman whom he chose, Shakespeare encouraged it, and this led to the unfortunate circumstance of a wound. Perhaps the sonnets were being written at the time of Hamnet's deathbed, which could be a heart-wrenching song of a father not knowing if his son will survive.
I've written copious amounts of work over the course of a day or two. It's not unlikely that Shakespeare had composed this entire piece in less than four or five days. So, it could have been written while Hamnet was on his deathbed, recovering from a wound he acquired from a failed romance. As the subject is the muse of all of Shakespeare's writing. I leave this off, as it is the interpretation that seems most in line with the subject. A father in the bargaining phase of grief, writing what is the world's best piece of literature.
4. Analysis of the Mithgarth Worm
I attempt to describe universal symbolism with my poetry. I tend to draw out a universal vision---though unique to my letters. For instance, the verse in Micah, which talks of our sin being cast into the sea, I make my sin a literal Doppelganger. I drew that from the archetype without being first aware of it. The same that I think there is a universal symbolism. For instance, across three continents, there are depictions of a seven headed dragon. And, in Revelation, there is a seven headed dragon. And in Norse Mythology, there is a Mithgarth Worm. How cultures relate to this aesthetic defines them. Some celebrate the aesthetic while others do not. However, in Chinese culture they celebrate the dragon, while Westerners fight it. Some Western Myths have their heroes defeated by the dragon, place it in different places of their cosmology. What's important to understand is that the dragon exists. It manifests itself in different places throughout the world, being universally symbolic of an aesthetic. The Christians would call it evil while the Eastern religions would call it good.
It's important to know that I do not worship the Dragon's aesthetic. The aesthetic I worship is Christ---pure beauty, pure light, pure truth. I find it indicative of what a true God would be. It is my belief that God had revealed Himself in stages throughout tangible history. First to Abraham, who influenced the making of the Hammurabi's Code. Second to Moses, whose signs and wonders convinced the Pharaoh to create the cult of Aten. And lastly in Christ Jesus, the Man Who Was God Incarnate. I feel this needed to happen, as we derive from the symbolism across culture manifestations of evil, too. Distortions to the truth.
I believe good has been revealed in stages, and I believe evil has been present on this earth, creating its manifestations. While, Christ is the ultimate good. For, He promises something important, which is the purging of our evil; the erasure of our sins from ever having existed. It's paramount for men to have clean slates if they ever intend on being good. Not to say that remembrance of the past will send one to hell, it won't. But, to say that if our past defined us, or if we were limited by it and never forgiven... if it were never forgotten, the danger is that past embittering us and turning us toward an aesthetic like that of the Dragon.
As, that is the aesthetic war. Christ against the Dragon. The Christ is natural, beauty, light, life, heterosexual love; the Dragon is artificial, ugliness, darkness, death and homoeroticism. For by heterosexual love, life continues and flourishes. Through homoeroticism, life is seen foul, self indulgent and hedonistic. This fact that the modern world's aesthetic is turning toward the Dragon, obviously the aesthetic is turning toward the elevation of what is evil. What is self indulgent. What cannot create flourishing, nor brings the power of life but death.
Symbolically, the image of a Man is beautiful; it is pure, but the image of a seven headed dragon much like a Dilophosaurus, with a rattlesnake like sound. Or, as Satan is commonly seen as a red satyr; that is, a color which is invisible without light, distorted into a shape half that of a man and half that of a beast. And the Satyr in mythology is unbridled lust, while the Dragon is unbridled hate. And it's seen in this that these common symbols become apparent across all culture... Perhaps because the vision, or the Logos, reveals them to cultures based upon their diversion. Either toward Good, and thereby the form of Man or Christ, or evil, therefore, toward the form of Dragons or Satyrs.
The mentalities bring with them equal relief or despair. The Christ Child brings with him a wholesome carol of Christmas, of a Baby pure and innocent and the beauty of this is in the form of God becoming an infant, and dwelling among men to one day step upon the Dragon and Satyr's weapons. To make it so they cannot drag men to hell. Whereby, if one gravitates toward the Satyr and Dragon's aesthetic, they will naturally create the despair these figures bring within the culture. Not, anymore, of a child arriving in the dead of winter, but of utter despair and unnatural sorcery. Aberrations of man's form, and the corruption of strange sciences. Ones which erase definition, skew what is sin, and creates confusion about even the most basic truths. It, rather, denies there is truth. Whereby, Christ embodied truth, He was the full dwelling of the Logos in human flesh, the full dwelling of truth and sense, the Dragon is as airy as a metaphor, not embodied, but when embodied is utterly horrifying. And I have no doubt it will claim to be what created the human race, when it comes. Like the common myth is that Earth was created by alien species, this Dragon's face looks like the Grey, black eyed alien species. It claims to have created our Earth, and the hordes in follie follow him because they don't know better, but rather worship the aesthetic of the Dragon. They know not the joys and peace of the Christ Child; they never knew him, for they are embodied by a gene of selfishness and homoeroticism. One which Christ will remove, if we let Him; for that is the power of grace, is to remove our flesh, and thereby circumcise our heart.
Yet, it is my life's work to show these competing aesthetics, and how they war, and what their civilizations are. What each embodied idea creates, either despair or joy. And of course the conflict of both struggling; for the Thirteen Kings are merely inventions of mine, the Dragon, Beast and False Prophet are not. In fact, they are described in all cultures, unconnected from one another. And because of this, we are beginning to believe this supernatural phenomena is from outer space, when indeed, it is something much simpler. It is the very aesthetic of Evil coming in the guise of false hope. And, only the Form of the Christ Child can defeat it; the form of the Christmas Good, the Merriment and serenity of the season. The blessing of Charity, and following the example of St. Nicholas by giving gifts to the poor, and cheering up the broken hearted. For, that aesthetic is good while our TV personalities praise impatience, and praise sin because "It works." Surely it does when injustice abounds, but it will all be destroyed by that Child Christ, and the true aesthetic of good and what is natural.
5. Mythology is a Soap Opera
As I was reading Agamemnon's fate, in Edith Hamilton's Mythology, I realized Mythology is a soap opera. I've read the Norse and the Greek, and I see it now. Someone is raping someone, someone is killing someone, someone is committing patricide or filicide to accomplish arcane magic. Nor do I believe that Agamemnon actually died this way. I tend to think of him as Nebuchadnezzar, and the Sack of Troy was the Sack of Tyre. Maybe some Bibliomancy was done to create it. As there is a verse in the Bible, "Behold, I will put a spirit in him, so that he shall hear a rumor and return to his own land, and I will make him fall by the sword in his own land.'" Perhaps that's just an overreaching theme in old literature, is the king returning from battle, and being slain. Perhaps because it is true. Maybe the peoples hate the war, and that is why there is regicide after coming home from a war.
The mythologies of the world were soap operas. They followed the ill reputed gods, who boasted omniscience and omnibenevolence, as they destroyed, and left wakes of ruin behind them. Setting an example to their people to follow. To rape those of lower status, to murder beloved children for magic---only, to expect recompense from the dharma of fate. For, every evil act must return an evil act. Which, is why I believe Agamemnon was Nebuchadnezzar is because that form of belief seems more consistent with the Babylonians.
That's the whole story. The gods in their dramatic wars with mortals and with one another, frolic without consequences, bringing upon the wrath of mortal and god alike. Sometimes there is a mortal who hates a god. Sometimes there is a god who hates a mortal. Whether because of rape, or because of infidelity, they seek retribution, destroying temples, bodies, while committing sodomy at times to accomplish the deed.
I see all of this, and now know what makes it interesting. I cannot write it. I know of humanity's bad nature, but I only know it from the outside. I know it from watching it, and feeling it oppress me. I know it on a crude, Global scale. I know it not intimately, anymore. When I read Ovid, I am reminded of my youth, chasing the girls around on the playground in boyish lust, like Pan and Syrinx, but that's over. That person died a long time ago. He died when I found Christ, and when I fell in love with Jorgia. An idea of love captivates me. Love actually saved me. Though it was love with a phantom, the idea of peace. What I write, I wish to capture peace. For, I tried writing my mythology, and I found it lacking the soap operatic feel and texture of a true mythology. I do not wish to make characters, populate my worlds---that author is dead, too. The imagination I had as a boy is cultured into a prosaic mind, wishing to merely find meaning.
The King of Assyria heard a voice telling him of a rumor, I can only hope the same happens to Putin. And this war ends. Yet, I wish not to write the soap opera of kings and queens, of Putin and Elizabeth. I wish not to write the soap opera of history. My ability is waning---if I push, I might bring about another delusion. For somewhere does the material come, and I hope to comfort you with my arcane stories, and poems. I wish to give you peace with them. The waking up from a dream. But, my creative spring is tapped.
6. Uncle Tom's Cabin Analysis
What does 2Pac and a Racist White Southern Scholar have in common? A lot, actually. They both believe the Civil War was not fought because of slavery, and they both probably use the slur Uncle Tom.
Let's just go down the line.
First, the Civil War was fought over Slavery. There can be no other reason for the war to be fought. Mark Twain, having joined the Rebel Army, left the army the very same day. Why? Because he was told it was about protecting the South's right to own slaves. Abraham Lincoln couldn't avoid civil war because the die had been cast. Slavery would be abolished soon. The South, forecasting those devices, preemptively started the bloodiest war in American History.
Uncle Tom, as it were, was a widely disseminated tract in support of abolishing slavery. Uncle Tom was a Christ Like Figure who died in service to his fellow blacks, dying so they could run free. Then, the war garnered such support for the abolition of slavery, that people actually joined the Union army in droves because they had read Uncle Tom's Cabin, and felt sympathy, as the work humanized black people in the eyes of white Northerners.
Also, the Battle Hymn of the Republic was written for the express intent of freeing blacks. The Northerners had the song, sung the song---as did the South, but they just appropriated the song---and the North sung in the lyrics, "He died to make men holy, LET US LIVE TO MAKE MEN FREE, His truth is marching on."
Also, the reason Uncle Tom is a pejorative, is because racist Southerners created journals which stigmatized Uncle Tom, and they began making satirical plays called "Tom Plays" Throughout the South which made Uncle Tom into a racist figure. It was, for express intentions, the White Southerners who created these Tom Plays, as they were salty for having lost the war due to the enormous recruitment by the sentiment Uncle Tom's Cabin created.
Then, if that weren't bad enough, those same journals created the stigma against sentimentalism in art. Bleeding into our current situation where gaudy and grotesque and bathos and scatological art is patronized. Because beauty, and all sentiments of feelings which are pure and awesome and right have been deemed as "Kitsch" by a group of racist White Southerners looking to do as much damage as they can.
Now, the Black Lives Matter movement is a propagate of these same Racist Southerner's ideas, by calling productive Blacks "Uncle Tom", by scathing beautiful art, by hating intrinsically well formed material. 2Pac couldn't be more wrong about the Civil War. Every drop of blood spilled was in the aim of ending Chattel Slavery. The Fourteenth Amendment was drafted as a direct result of the war. The Emancipation Proclamation was created because of the war.
What's truly racist, is Black Lives Matter because it is the invention of the White Southern Racism, to create a straw man, enemy image to burn down as an effigy of rage in the face of White Nationalism. Do not be fooled.
7. Meditation on the Word Tattoo in Seamus Heaney's Name Lore Poem Broagh
It's easy to read this poem, and get a completely different viewpoint. It's almost entirely inescapable for me, living by the Susquehanna, to see something entirely wrong in the poem. Though, a neat little interpolation I drew from it... it wasn't correct.
The fact remains, that I put question marks by the word "Tattoo". I didn't like it in the poem, and thought Heaney was just pandering to a sort of strange ethos. It seemed strangely placed, and it should have been my first clue to slow down, and look at the poem more carefully. As, the "Tattoo" was taking another denotation, that of a "drumming" and it was describing the rain.
Many things I got correct. Such as the description of the Tillage, the time of year---because I'm from a rural area too, these sorts of questions come to my mind. Yet, many things I got wrong, such as "rig" which didn't mean boat, but meant the tillage. And also "Tattoo", which dubiously I thought was placed in the poem, and I had begun to think I was reading an amateur. I followed through with my investigation, not knowing that "docken" wasn't "dock" as that's Scottish, but was "docken" as in dandelion, thistle, stinkweed, milkweed and the such. I had interpreted half the poem, yet why didn't I use my literary pretension, to assume that "Tattoo" in this instance wasn't being used to represent what I commonly think, and then the rest of the poem as well. It's a trap, of course, Seamus placed in the poem. Probably one to pleasantly drive a reader like myself to this other interpolation. Not dubiously, would a skilled reader place question marks next to "Tattoo", yet a more skilled reader might try to find sense three or four of the word in Webster.
Which, this brings one to a question, of the reader's aptitude. Had I gone with my better instincts, in being skeptical of the word "Tattoo" and not been tainted by instagram poetry where such things would unapologetically be thrown around... I may have gotten the right answer on a first draw through.
The poem is using idiomatic expression from the locale of Broagh; its dialect. So, pad, rig, docken and tattoo are not portmanteau or expressions of boats. It should be obvious to anyone, knowing the river is too small, the Moyola river is too small to have boats or docks in it. Yet, none are clued into that, unless they take great offense at the word "tattoo" and are thereby questioning the very deceptive nature of the wording of the poem. Seamus is aware of this, too, as there is a pleasant little side trek one can go on without first knowing the true meaning of the word. Yet, it would assume that Seamus would use the word "Tattoo" and refer it to a footprint. Such a thing is of an inferior quality for a poet of such high caliber, and ought to be condescended to the local dialect, over one's own prejudices and word associations. (Unless, of course, Seamus was superbly skilled enough to dual wield a metaphor, and thereby allow negative capability so a lay reader can also enjoy the poem. To which, if the poem has negative capability, Seamus' mastery is all to forward to make the use of Second Person Figure, to say that this significant character's footprint is now tattooed into the soil of Broagh. But, one would have to interpret the rhubarb is what ends like the "gh" and not the rain; to which, I received a pleasant meditation on man's impact on the environment with farming, getting a sort of sense of how we, through this, are a part of the land and nature, too.)
The poem was beautiful, and the tradition is called Dinnseanchas, or more appropriately simplified to, "Place-lore." It's creating a mythology for the place---the very specific locale. And all of that is fine, yet how do we get to the true interpretation of the poem? Obviously Seamus gets us there by placing a gaudy word like "tattoo" into the poem, to help us be skeptical of some of the word choice. To make us tread more carefully through the poem's use of seemingly obvious words. Because, after using the internet to search the river, it should be clear the river is not wide like the Susquehanna, but is rather what we would call around my parts a creek. There can't be docks and boats on it. Which, is why "tattoo", the specious word choice, becomes the most critical word in the poem, to help the reader doubt their first impressions on the poem's meaning.
As the poem is not about the narrator's childhood, where he would place shoeprints in the tillage. As there's another carefully chosen word, an innocuous one, "You". The poem uses Second Person Figure. Therefore, the narrator is talking to someone other than himself. Which, the word "tattoo" ought to bring one to this subtle doubt of their own first impressions. The rabbit hole is quite pleasant, but it's not the true interpretation of the poem, which can only be rendered in such a way that "tattoo" is the word which brings us to doubt our first impressions. And if one places question marks next to the word, to question why Seamus would use such a base word, it is meant to bring one to that question, and to be answered by a rarer, and more beautiful and poetic denotation.
8. An Analysis of Coleridge's Poem “To a Friend Who Expressed His Desire to Write No More Poetry.”
I have written epics on American history. In perfect form. I have written epics on English Mythology, doing what Tolkien wished to do---his question was my inspiration. I have written Byronic Heroes who fought the demons of my own soul. I have written a thousand or so short poems of various degrees of quality---some might even say, true poesy. I have written cogently on both subjects of Math and Humanity. I have mastered two philosophies, Platonic Forms and Existentialism. I am mastering a third, Epicureanism. I have found kernels which prove God's existence.
I come to this poem, and humbly I say I haven't written anything so beautiful. At first, I figure a friend would encourage another friend to write poetry---Charles Lamb was a lamb of a man. But, as I read it, unable to penetrate the verse, I start to find poison, Achilles, Hight Castalie---that is to be cast on a lying path. I find a true friend. And I read Charles Lamb's poetry. I see the sort of thing I see in the modern poet. That if I were their friend, I would tell them to stop writing it.
Yet, I follow his advice, too. Not because I haven't written anything good, but because there is nowhere left to write. And mystically, he predicts me with his allusion to Auld Lang Syne. The mystery of the Prophets.
I believe I, too, have written so much over the years. I have mastered poetry. I have mastered my thoughts. Now, rather, I wish to tell what others have spoken. What others have written. For I have a knack for telling the hidden secrets of another's verse. Even the things they do not know or see. And in that is the ministry I have. To draw forth the precious out of the worthless, as God said to Jeremiah. For what is all of this poetry even I write?
Where do I improve? Tell me. I have written in perfect verse the critical moment of American History. I have written in beautiful poesy the Mythology of England. I have touched every subject under the sun---I know no other to be explored. What is within me, is completely exhausted. Yet, I have it in me to write. What can I improve upon with my poetry? Written every Tall Tale again, written even a Pseudepigraphal Gospel. Short of writing a verse of scripture, I have no other mountain to climb. And no scripture, I am afraid, shall ever pour forth from my pen if I am to remain an honest man.
There is nowhere left in poetry. Nor is there anywhere left in fiction. I have written worlds deep, rich---Trilogies the caliber of War and Peace, Novellas of literature like Austen or Melville. I've written my first taste of poetry like Eliot---I was told. I was told, "Your production is Godly." Godly, as in praising God... Yet, it is not godlike. It is the fruit of an imagination which was given to me as a child. My whole life, up to about fifteen, was invented worlds. As a grown up, it shifts to poetry. And finally, as a Sage, it ought to end in essay.
What is the sage? Simply, the man who finds God's Word on his own. And with one more leap, I shall be a disciple.
And more importantly, why ought I write anything more? If it is not to discover what others have found?
9. The Hubris of the Modern Poet Asking “What is Poetry?”
I see many struggle with this question. And many answer it, by asking the question, and then telling the answer lies within themselves. Simply, who they are.
Truthfully, unless you're interesting, don't write poetry about yourself. Not even for yourself. As, poetry, unless it's coupled with wisdom, is a narcissistic task. Of selfishly delving deep into one's own things. Selfishly drawing out a portrait---getting more and more shallow--of you the artist.
If you cannot, by any means, relate to the world around you, don't write a single verse. Poetry, if about oneself, must be tainted with self-denial. It must be tainted by doubt, self reflection. It must peer into the failings---not the greatness. And if you do write a story of greatness, make sure you build a hero. Maybe a Byronic Hero, but a hero nonetheless to avoid the pathology of narcissism that poetry entails for the average writer.
Singing of love is a lute's charm, yet if it is not truly love? Why sing of it? If it is the same tired failure, of relationships failing because of one's own desire... then why write of it? Write rather of your failing toward your lover. That is a poem I haven't heard many do.
The Poem is an observation of the world around you. It is the decisive exploration of a thought. A poem is not a rambling of how great you are. Or how misunderstood. Rather, poetry ought to be---if it's well done---about something entirely new and alien, something wholly not of yourself. If it's to be done right, the poem should divert to conversations happening in the real world. As they relate to you, maybe. But, not simply your relation to yourself. You self-esteem.
The true poet is the one who draws forth wisdom, and relates it. A poem has the energy of an equation being solved, and wise men are the ones who get pleasure from it. For, to the average manchild and womanchild this involves work. Very unpopular, they'd rather the receding mess that is modern poetry, and obey the rule of self indulgence. "I, too, can be successful. I, too, if my words are pretty enough, can make it in this world." The ends are certain. It is the end of success, fame, affluence. It is not the ends of truth or learning or joy.
For this, the poet of modern day needs to put down the pen, as Coleridge said to Charles Lamb. For it is an asp's bite, driving oneself into the bitter revilings of narcissism. And so is true for any act of written word. Every word you write ought to be to succumbed to the world around you... not the world as it exists within your mind. That is true art.
So, I shall, in one fell swoop, interpret almost every amateur poet.
They are special, and they are offensive. They have great things to say, and go on and on about themselves and how special they are. True narcissists. They talk about their heroism, their failed love---on and on about how misunderstood they are. They get hundreds of followers who want to be special, too.
They have a hubris, which like many professional athletes is reinforced by their success. Maybe they are special? For, their story of how heroic they are---void of imagination, or theme, or crux, or content---tells all the simplistic story of how greatly misunderstood, how greatly wise they are. Nobody likes them... of course. They have great mysteries to tell us of themselves. They tell us the mystery of themselves, and its end is themselves.
There are a few poets whom this is not the case. And I typically will honor them by interpreting their work. They have heroic deeds. They have things to speak. They have observations, nuanced views, making the strange mundane, or making the mundane strange. They can rightly talk about themselves, for they have learned the subtle art of self-denial. The subtle art of self scathing. No true artist can be a poet unless they have that little man in them telling them and the world their failings.
The poets of modern day sing of themes... like a kaleidoscope being twirled around and around. Telling of failed love---making us horny. Is it truly skill? Is it anything worth writing? They garner their followers---for it seems the pack follows what mostly resembles their own craft. "Should that be successful, then so shall I." Thus, the Instagram Poetry gets popular, sold for millions of dollars.
I don't mean to sneer, but if the whole interpretation of the poem is just a matter of getting some vague notion of you, I don't think that's a poem. Unless you have made an observation about the real world, or some real conundrum or mystery. Those who are true poets will understand this. The frustration of seeing the flocks tell of how special and offensive they are. No... what I write is offensive. Because I have the audacity to speak.
10. Analysis of the Redbreast Chasing the Butterfly by William Wordsworth
One of the most interesting things was observed by me, while doing an analysis of this poem last night. The fact that Wordsworth transposed his Shadow onto the Robin. Making the Robin equal to a "False Prophet." The text is clear... And I'd believe he's talking about Robert Southey, and possibly insinuating a superficial relationship between the two of them; at the end, he clearly says to either commit to the friendship or "Leave him alone." It's almost, however, like Wordsworth is transposing his shadow upon the Robin---as who the figure is is only speculative---there's some non compos mentis moments in the poem, where there's an allusion to misbehavior happening with children in the leaves. Where he gets this, is likely material from dealing with his shadow... as I struggle with imagery of the same. Just in different ways.
The poem struck me, as in my own poetry, there's this figure who's like the shadow. I make him into a doppelganger, and I understand him through Biblical Turn of Phrase such as Micah 7 where it says that "Our sin will be cast into the sea" or in Isaiah 53, where the poem literally says that Christ burdens our "Contagion" which I believe means something like "Daemon." The Shadow element of the soul, which the great poets touch upon. Even Bob Dylan has touched upon this shadow; the universal figure of the "False Prophet"; so has Byron, whom Child Harold's Pilgrimage is about his very shadow. There is a strain of great poets to be talking about this enigmatic figure. In Hosea it says "Death is more prosperous than his brethren."
This figure is ubiquitous throughout all poetry. It may just be the Daemon which Christ subdues for us. The burden which Christ carries within Him, according to Isaiah 53. Because Wordsworth is struggling with this deep imbedded evil. The truth is, Wordsworth struggled with Schizophrenia, and judging by my own dealings with it it normally is when our shadow comes into conscious thought, and the "Daemon" is consciously touched. Which causes the sickness of the soul, and thereby, creates the paranoia. Yet, the "Daemon" is burdened by Christ; the sin nature in all of us, which is capable of having "Covered with leaves the little children,/ So painfully in the wood?" and there's a question mark. It touches upon my conscience latent reminiscing of the Daemon... either projected outward or inward. In Wordsworth's case it is projected outward, into a persecution delusion. In my case, it's projected inward, into a Doppelganger delusion. In either case, we split the Shadow into an individual separate from ourselves. A lot of great poets do this, split the shadow self and lay accusations upon him. The closer that shadow is to our own person, the more we understand ourselves to be in need of Christ. Yet, it is the figure of "Death" which Wordsworth is talking about. Death is Who Jung called the Shadow Self; Our Sin Nature; or as Isaiah 53 puts it, our "Contagion" or "Daemon".
11. White Doe of Rylestone
12. Paradise Lost
Sin I Witnessed This Month
The dog snarled; The owners gossiped. The counselor taught Mischief, to reward Evil for evil, stripe for stripe, Pain for pain. The son would not Go to see his mother. The man accepted The person of a Woman who wore What is unseemly. Lovers from youth Would not forgive. Men and wives strove So the women's Adulteries were made acceptable In his sight. The joyful man Was rebuked. The righteous man Is prickly. An elderly woman Was abused. Fathers despised Their sons. Old friends said "Depart" to One another.
Savage Thoughts
Aphorism 1. The Irish make the most beautiful music and poetry. Aphorism 2. The Germans have invented all novel ideas, but were, usually, fatally wrong. Aphorism 3. The English are unrivalled in their mastery of social sciences. Aphorism 4. The Spaniard fights bulls because he is daring. Aphorism 5. The Italian is practical, gregarious, yet has no illusions. Aphorism 6. The Ethiopian is wise, yet mingles a little juice with the waters. Aphorism 7. The Chinese and Greeks have uncovered all philosophical laws. Aphorism 8. The American has always been stupid and always had a penchant for mischief. But, the greatest saints have rested here. Aphorism 9. The Russian is a hearty friend, yet abuses authority. Aphorism 10. The South African is strong in morale, as any white man. Aphorism 11. The Black American enslaves themselves more than anyone else. Aphorism 12. The Mexican can work hard and feel comforted by their family above all else. Aphorism 13. The Brazilian is free. Aphorism 14. Texas and California both have equal problems, just from opposite ends. Aphorism 15. Pennsylvania is my favorite state because it is a true melting pot; throw a stone, and you'll find someone completely different. Nobody lives in a vacuum here. Aphorism 16. The Indian has all the benefits of ethical teaching, and so have they a profound mastery over maths. Aphorism 17. The Persian is wise, and has a good heart. Aphorism 18. The Arab is a friend, and is noble. Aphorism 19. The Egyptian is not radical. Aphorism 20. The Jew is a superior man to all others; for they have overcome and thrived through all adversity. Aphorism 21. Beauty isn't universal, though it ought to be. Aphorism 22. There is good and bad; it's usually best discovered in dress. Aphorism 23. The oldest civilizations in the world are Black, and also the happiest. Aphorism 24. There are happy civilizations which do not believe in God. Aphorism 25. The best civilization in the world had Christ; it abolished every slave, it freed a third of the world; it gave no prejudice to religion, race or gender. Aphorism 26. It's funny how the more we muddy gender, the more sexist we become. Aphorism 27. The price to pay for freedom is blood. Aphorism 28. The ideals of an activist is always contrary to their practice. Aphorism 29. Marx was a millionaire, and his followers are just like him: possessing all the fortune in the world, yet never satisfied. Aphorism 30. The communist is just like I was; making thirty thousand a year, and unable to see that they were already free. In effect, they enslave themselves. Aphorism 31. If it weren't for the Federal Reserve, or Central Banking, we'd be buying and selling everything online. I like to go shopping. Don't you? Aphorism 32. I am not the perfect philosopher. I just listen and tell you what's already been said. Aphorism 33. I do not Plagiarize. I just know that my writing will outlast everyone else's. So, I try to make the most sense, so the future doesn't forget the truth. Aphorism 34. I will be published. And I will eat from my work. As the proverb goes, "Gather all that's needed, before starting to build the house." Aphorism 35. Conspiracy Theories and Communism are trifles for the youth. The mature ought to understand mankind is incapable of accomplishing either. Aphorism 36. Alex Jones ought not have been sued; it is his right to be wrong. Aphorism 37. In an age where publicity happens spontaneously, I think the fourth amendment need protect us from our fellow citizen; not just the government. Aphorism 38. I see no conspiracy of the government trying to hinder my livelihood. Rather, the conspiracy is the populace moving wherever they collectively will. Aphorism 39. Satan is real. I don't believe man is intelligent enough to make conspiracies, but he surely can, often through subconscious hate and greed. Aphorism 40. One thing common among Americans is their penchant to hate America. I don't hate America; I hate Americans. Only the most uneducated population could have elected such stupid officials. Aphorism 41. Germans are educated, yet spiritually blind. One thing Providence does for America, is it protects us from our own ignorance. Aphorism 42. Joe Biden being elected was providence. I believe there was no better option. We aren't at war, are we? Aphorism 43. Ukraine is winning. Aphorism 44. California is an example of leftist policies, and Texas an example of right wing policies. Pennsylvania is an example of when both exist equally. Aphorism 45. Pennsylvanians said "Screw you," and we're freer and happier here than in Florida. Aphorism 46. State's rights are good. It's the best thing about our Democracy. Aphorism 47. Gas is affordable here precisely because we are not radical. Aphorism 48. In Pennsylvania, Christ is everywhere. Seven Christian radio stations, two of them devoted to sermons; billboards up and down the highways, churches on every street corner. That's why we're sheltered. Let us never give up that faith. Aphorism 49. The socialite hates Pennsylvania. She thinks we haven't a good culture. I disagree. Aphorism 50. The only fault of Pennsylvania is our lack of a reliable Public Transportation system. Aphorism 51. Purple mountains and golden prairies, only a fool would despise them. Aphorism 52. Peppers add to life's variety. Aphorism 53. An onion, garlic and salt are the three secret spices of any proficient chef. Aphorism 54. Ginger and cinnamon go good with just about everything. Aphorism 55. Creams, fats, acids, salts, sweets and spices. Master these, and you'll be a proficient chef. Aphorism 56. To form the base of any dish, look at its tradition. Millennia oftentimes vet the ingredients to form perfect flavors. Aphorism 57. A secret ingredient is the one or two things you do differently than the tradition. Aphorism 58. Religion continues because it works. Its universal ethics apply, and create stable societies. Aphorism 59. Good religions are ancient ones because they comprise universal moral values. Aphorism 60. Mystery religions or dead religions die because they haven't vetted truths. Aphorism 61. Philosophy is religion absent of deity. Aphorism 62. Ethics are universal. We need God, ultimately, to judge. Aphorism 63. Without God's judgment, the world would fall into total anarchy. Sin works, but it ultimately causes many to fall into calamity. Aphorism 64. Power works through spiritual authorities. That is why one man can rule a nation. Aphorism 65. Often the man ruling a nation is the portrait of its spirit. If that spirit dies, so does the leader. Aphorism 66. Martin Luther King has become a martyr of the left's racism. Aphorism 67. There are many paths to wealth, but the safest path is to stick to one path, and not multiple. Aphorism 68. Failure breeds misanthropy in those around you. Forgive them when you're successful. Aphorism 69. The masses are stupid. Yet, also perpetually wise. Aphorism 70. One thing I learned during the Pandemic was that you couldn't fool a Pennsylvanian. Aphorism 71. Covid wasn't a conspiracy, except that people overreacted to it. Aphorism 72. Let them wear masks. Just don't force me to. Aphorism 73. I'd rather die of bubonic plague, than deal with another year of Covid lockdowns. Aphorism 74. I wasn't afraid of the virus, but of the stupidity of those around me. Aphorism 75. People believe what they want to hear, and they also distrust official sources. Aphorism 76. I doubt that I will be jailed for my writing. I also doubt that I will remain poor for much longer. Aphorism 77. People are naturally appalled by sin. I discovered this delightful truth during everything that has gone on in the last three years. Aphorism 78. A dictator, like a bad idea, runs its course with a sharp offensive, but ultimately gets diluted the further out it reaches. Aphorism 79. Russia and China are proof that you cannot hold onto a bad government for too long. Even now, China is bored of its own conniving. Aphorism 80. War runs its course. Let nation deal with nation. Don't let them ban together, and destroy the world. Aphorism 81. It is the LORD Who establishes the nations' boundaries. Not man. Aphorism 82. Canada is probably lost. It was LGBTQ+ that lost it. Aphorism 83. Where the people are righteous, unrighteous laws shall not harm them. Aphorism 84. The oppression of the last three years, was like an androgynous woman telling you where and when to use the bathroom. Aphorism 85. Democrats are incompetent. I trust them in executive power over Republicans who actually get things done. Aphorism 86. Bush and Trump were by far the Nation's worst presidents. Let's counteract the stupidity created by them. Aphorism 87. It's not the Democrat's evil that I'm afraid of; it's the Republican's failure to do good. Aphorism 88. Christ was not a socialist. He was in favor of Gold Standards. Aphorism 89. Property is guaranteed by the law, "Thou Shalt not Steal." Aphorism 90. If you ever actually read Marx, you'd see a real issue but not a real solution. Aphorism 91. Nietzsche and Marx did not invent their crises. They saw it, and therefore warned of it. Though, each was on the wrong end of the solution. Aphorism 92. Morality is self evident. Thereby God exists. Why? Because morality being self evident, Who ultimately must judge if the world decides to be immoral? Aphorism 93. I think the end times will be when people know the truth, but flagrantly decide to disregard it. Aphorism 94. It's a common musing of mine that evil people know Satan exists, yet pretend like they don't. Aphorism 95. It's also a musing of mine that people know truth inherently, but disregard it because it's easier. Aphorism 96. Love is difficult to nurture, therefore, evil people are those who just get lazy. Aphorism 97. The right of the people is God given. There is no boundary which can move, save God decree it. Aphorism 98. I love the United States of America. Aphorism 99. March grass is green; April trees bloom. Aphorism 100. The Robins mate in April. Aphorism 101. David is on the far Western Horizon in spring. Aphorism 102. The stars do not lie. Aphorism 103. The deer mate in October. Aphorism 104. The planets and moon, constellations and sun are like hands on a clock. Aphorism 105. Know nature, and you will never be deceived. Aphorism 106. David appears in December, and Goliath soon after. Aphorism 107. The Triune appears in the summer, and doesn't set until winter. Aphorism 108. The leaves unfold in May. Aphorism 109. The summer leaf begins as a flower. Aphorism 110. May springs, bring June things. Aphorism 111. An October chill brings a November furnace. Aphorism 112. Snow in winter time is precious. Aphorism 113. The trees lose their leaves in December. Aphorism 114. The winterberries are a sure sign. When they fall, it is probably February. Aphorism 115. Blue Birds and Robins appear at spring time, but when you see them before, it is not good. Aphorism 116. The mowing begins at Spring, and ends at Winter. Aphorism 117. Love keeps warm by the winter fire. Aphorism 118. The willow is the first tree in spring to receive her green. Aphorism 119. The Robin would rather run than fly to escape. Aphorism 120. A Robin before Springtime so with a fly in Winter: it's natural, yet untimely. Aphorism 121. The forest's fragrance bears the subtle musk of a lover. Aphorism 122. Holidays are good; the immature dislike them. Aphorism 123. April fools this year was a gay one. Aphorism 124. St. Patrick's Day is a gay little holiday. Aphorism 125. Valentine's day is a day to make love with your spouse, or risk disapproval for a future romance. Aphorism 126. Birthdays are good. Go have a bite to eat with the ones you love. Aphorism 127. Christmas is a time to feast, and give to the poor and needy. For, the winter requires fat. Aphorism 128. Thanksgiving is a feast to put fat on the bones for winter's hoary air. Aphorism 129. New Year's Day is a feast; eat your traditional meals. Aphorism 130. Easter's feast leads to strength for harvest. Aphorism 131. If you celebrate different feasts, consider: they all will occur to give strength in season. Aphorism 132. The Fourth of July, Juneteenth, Memorial Day and Labor Day, enjoy the frivolities of Summer. Aphorism 133. Daylight Savings is probably the cause of Spring Suicide. Let the sun awaken you, and not the hour. Aphorism 134. The sun is a clock, more precious than the hour hand. Aphorism 135. When first entering the home, you can smell the good things best. Aphorism 136. When the Bible says "Uncleanliness" is a sin, it means literal uncleanliness. Aphorism 137. A good home smells natural. Not overbearing with the stench of perfumes, nor odiferous with the stench of animals, nor unpleasant. If the odor offends, then the residents likely will, too. Aphorism 138. Nothing is better than a home cooked meal's fragrance wafting through the domicile. Aphorism 139. The stuffing in the oven makes the whole house smell like thyme. Aphorism 140. The most precious thing in the world is a good woman. Aphorism 141. A good woman makes love, makes beds, makes soup and folds laundry. Aphorism 142. A good woman buys fields, knits blankets, keeps clean and has spice. Aphorism 143. A good woman has beautiful heart, loves her children, loves her husband and fills a house with love. Aphorism 144. A good man is kind, is courteous, is chivalric and praises his wife. Aphorism 145. A good man holds his wife, teaches his children, attends his business and works close to home. Aphorism 146. A good man tells the truth, waits until marriage, is kind to his flocks and looks into the eyes of his wife with lively passion. Aphorism 147. A good lover does not tire of their love, is disciplined to bear the hard times, listens and speaks kind words. Aphorism 148. A good son is boyish, likes a little mischief but not too much, plays hard and does what his parents tell him. Aphorism 149. A good daughter is girly, listens and commiserates, plays nice and does what her parents tell her. Aphorism 150. A good person knows their distant relatives, stays within a day's journey of their family, works close to home and does not change much. 1. The Poetry of History Dostoevsky and Tolstoy--- I had been elucidated too--- Never met. Before I knew this, I thought their meeting fated, Yet after I knew it, It became clear It was the poetry of history. Two witnesses, of equal skill, Speak... never having met To cross their antlers And thereby destroy their works. Providence moves with such a hand Through history, to cause such Fascinating little miracles. For unimpeded by the other Each made their witness of Mother Russia In her soon collapse. Yet, also, each man had died Like the merciful men in scripture Before God's wrath ever came nigh them. 2. Self Love The most beautiful commandment; The one which caused me to worship That bless'ed Risen King, Jesus: Though, the self-harming love of gross Desires causes the human Heart to believe that they have no Self Love---so, their own "Self-hatred", It seems, causes hate for others. What yoke was ever loosed by love Of Self? Does it not strengthen bonds? To love oneself adds eternal angst And misery to the soul. Make It gay with an outpouring of Love toward those lost souls around you. For, seeking inwardly for truth Does nothing but reveal one's heart. This, we ought to know, is evil. For, by seeking inwardly, we trap Ourselves within the prison of Our heart's each whim and desire. 3. A Squircle A rounded square Which to determine its dimensions Is so laborious a calculation, Yet, nonetheless, simply exists In many utilitarian ways. There are many innocuous things We take for granted in life. Even in some simple shapes, There are such eccentricities That it would take a Doctor of Math Just to figure them out. Of which, I am not one. But, I pleasantly muse Over their formulas Knowing that greater minds than mine Are hard at work. 4. Karl Marx Surprisingly, he had a good family. He had daughters which he loved. He had a beautiful wife who stuck by him. He had good friends. He had servants. He has to be the most foul hypocrite to ever live. 5. Arthur Schiller It is the man who wants freedom the most Who is the same man who cannot live free. Desiring freedom, he is under the steward of tyrant After tyrant. Nowhere could he go, where he was free. He was continually a slave to one nobleman or another. The precious angst it created. Precious is the angst, however, For the man speaks a true desire of the human heart. Though, unable to live free, he teaches all how precious freedom is. Yet, I've found the purest freedom is to live nobly And to keep pushing forward with the talent Providence has gifted you. Then, at some point, one will break free; For, to desire what is in your means and modest blessing Is the true mark of someone who is free. And to believe in God, for without God, Even the freest man is never truly free. He is always a slave to his earthly circumstance. 6. Sins I witnessed this Month The dog snarled; The owners gossiped. The counselor taught Mischief, to reward Evil for evil, stripe for stripe, Pain for pain. The son would not Go to see his mother. The man accepted The person of a Woman who wore What is unseemly. Lovers from youth Would not forgive. Men and wives strove So the women's Adulteries were made acceptable In his sight. The joyful man Was rebuked. The righteous man Is prickly. An elderly woman Was abused. Fathers despised Their sons. Old friends said "Depart" to One another. 7. The Story Teller It is said that the one who tells the stories Rules the worlds. This is not true. The one who tells the stories Merely aligns their stories with the Author of Creation's. For, if the story had not truth, None would take pleasure in it. 8. The German and the Zulu Like the Valkyrie and the Harpy One with spotted wing, And the other with speckled; Both with arcane religion deifying savagery; Thor's hammer is like the Shaman's skull; The totem and the fetish both rule there. Metallurgy is not foreign to Africa; Nor is the fetish foreign to Germany. The baptized sword or the shrunken head. The bone jewel or the tattoo. Greece and Songhai stand nigh you Barbarians. Yet, you do battle Speaking your magical incantations One toward one another. Let Imitatio Christi bring you forth to a better world. Both elicit a certain drunkenness. Germans a false precision, and salubriousness. Zulus a wild and unrestrained pride. Yet, the Germans observed the Slave Morality--- And the Zulus enslaved their kindred. A society wearing robes Is always more kind Than the one which is naked; Yet, it is the nude which wrestle one another in the pits. Though this is not literally true, Let the metaphors I write speak. 9. Racist? The ignorance of a prudish pastor Who says every pleasure is a grave sin. The flagrant falsehood of a man who stands Upon his lector and defiles love With his homilies, saying, "Loves are aught!" The Philosopher who must slice every Word to tiny pieces, not listening Always defining, diverting to a thousand hills. The freed slave who wishes all else To be a slave, ever, to he; For he is angry about long Forgotten woes. Those annoy me. 10. Joy is not Shallow There was a famous man, whom with his tears Cried over the shallowness of joyful Music. I stopped to think: there is nothing Deeper than joy; for it even sustains Love through the darkest of times, and restores Hope. Joy, rather, is not shallow but the Deep well, where all the good things are drawn up. 11. Louie Louis The imagination Sees its own evil; It makes flagrant an Innocent offense. Thus, what was simply a word Becomes ten thousand evil thoughts. What was a minor infraction Becomes amplified to the basest evils In the minds of the recurring gossipers, All of which they have conjured. 12. Upon the Paths at Pinchot My Love, my Lass, in bonny flowers I run through As I see your face, more beauteous than the dew Upon the steepled Blue-Bells, weeping that I find You far away;--- upon two paths when shall they pass? For your purest mien does show you are truly kind. 13. Husband of Youth My love, I wait for you on shores Of opal crests, where once I saw You, in godly grace, innocent And in your dress; you were so pure. In my dreams, was Amarisa Your name, that odious vision Where I saw your heart was like mine, Your loves telling you things unkind. For, you had been left in your youth By a husband betrothed, who looked At you, was it ever in couth? Yet, did he die or did fooresook The Violet Flower with her Precious, little, smiling face, poor? 14. Jerusalem's Streams My love, this poem I write to you: I am not a perfected man Nor are you perfect, though despite Your beauty, which is as the Land Of Jerusalem in its time Of fertility; I shan't find A more beautiful doe in Nine Thousand, and one more for your kind Personality. Radiates The spirit of God from your gate Which, if I enter will be my Precious treasure during the time I'm given to Earthly toils, You, my balm and Earthly oil. I am saddened by the willow Where I weep my loneliest tears. For a river by the mountain Sends forth its spry springs; do the years Saunter by where the mountain flows Into the streams: When will I drink?
Gödel’s Theorem on God’s Existence
Gödel's theorem at its simplest, Is this, "If it is necessary for God to exist, "Then God must exist." Simply put, civilization is falling apart without belief in Him. Basic human constructs of right and wrong are ignored. People are attempting to abolish basic human rights such as freedom of speech, mobility and religion through the absence of belief. Goodness cannot exist---purely---if there is not a God Because then Goodness would always be relegated back To men and their faulty judgments. We seem unable to even define gender without belief in God The most basic and obvious of all truths. People don't understand what love is without Him. It seems, that it is necessary for there to be a God; therefore, He exists.