Surrounding her is cloudy divination.
She learned from India, Egypt, Canaan
The mysteries of the purple occult.
Then, was she raptured? A perfect philosopher?
Before the Judge, whose sharp sentence was death
Did she disappear into the gold abyss?

Or, is it as one true prophet said,
Christ is wedded to death? To conquer it.---
Knowledge of the certainties of this life,
The certainties of the algebra, of
All matter which is governed by its law…
Did this make the perfect philosopher?

Then, I, entwined by death, like the Fable’s
Hero, wish to be so and disappear 
At judgment.

It was said by Lewis that Jesus must
Either be insane, or the Son of God.
It was said by good G. K. Chesterton
That Christ had proven his sound mind's subtlety.
I say that Christ was a Genius, who poor,
Surpassed all the sages of history.

The young King stood upon the shade-filled river Styx
And argued with the Ferryman about crossing.
The Ferryman, secretly, the young King’s sire,
Had a wicked grin creak across his wrinkled, gray face.
“I have slept with many men’s wives, o thou proud king.”
The king, with wrath, opened up his mouth in judgment;
“Let me cross the river Styx, into hel, the land
“Of Giants.” But the ferryman would not. He cried,
“O, you’ll travel far from thy wife, so unfaithful!”
The King spoke, “I have slaughtered many Nephilim!”
The Ferryman creaked a smile most severe. “I
“Will not let you. For if you cross, you shall lose aught!
“Thy wife shall sleep with any wight, and thy joys fail!”
The King, knowing the old Ferryman’s exploits, glared.
“My wife is faithful, you lie!” Yet the ferryman
With a devilish grin, said, “I will not let you.”

I pondered on the old tale. I thought both were fools.

Sometimes the path to suffering
Is the path to greater joy.
Sometimes, striving against
Evil---
Which causes temporary pain---
Is better than meditation.

Sometimes, feeling self love
And its endorphins aroused by
Blank minds
Is not the noble path.
Sometimes war is necessary.

I, a Fourth Generation Phillies Fan
Sit in the darkness of my room; listen
To the sounds of the TV. My friend hates
Me in that moment; I am bitter. Sleep
Doesn't come easy. For my friend hates me.
I hear it in his voice; I see it. Stained
Is my voice to his ears, and he and my
Family watch the Phillies. Bryce Harper hits
A walk off home run. I feel no joy. For
I offended him, just like my mother
Was offended by the truths I uttered.
I cannot but speak the truth, and now I,
Seeing my team have the year I prayed for,
Cannot enjoy it; my heart's bitterness
For those I love and their hatred at my
Words---where does it come from? I do not know.
My life is like this season of Baseball;
Triumphant Highs, Magnificent lows. All
Is torn assunder in my wretched
Heart. Bryce is worth thirty million dollars.
Yet, am I? I do not know, for what I
Love is my family and friends, and country;
So I sit in darkness, solitude; Wait
Yet the age's wisdom is the trophy
Goes to thieves, the robbers, the murderers.
Maybe a thief had joy in the ballgame
But even if there were joy in it, I
Sit nearly in tears---I wonder about
My vision, my righteousness; I sometimes
Wonder if the Earth were flat; I don’t know.
All I know is this, that I listen to
The sage today, after emailing
Him, and I find my prophecies foolish.
Yet, there is a peace. Though I am scolded 
For having the prescience to see futures
And to know the dark course society
Goes, I know this is what the Gospel preached.

I read the Bible for what it had said
And I found all we know of history
Is scribed in those pages’ plain English ink.
Yet, when I confront a skeptic, she points
To the same evidence I had found. She
Says, “Look, this proves the Bible is errant.”
It’s simply a shift of nouns, a pagan
Mythos, a long line of strong Satanic
Divinations, maddened by poetic
Intrigue just like my own mythologies.
And I find the simplest truth is, they wish
The Jews, who worshiped Baal, to have only
Worshiped Baal, yet what they claim already
Was said in the Bible. Yet, postmodern
Analyses, and a defiance of
Plain English supplants Baal for Jehovah.
But it begins to appear that Hubaal 
Is a lie, yet the maddened scholars think
He is more ancient than the Laws of God.
Which, one need only look at Christ’s pure Word
To know that what He spoke was self evident
And therefore, making it more ancient still.

"Come, let us reason together.
"The poor are scum upon the Earth;
"And suffering---there is no way
"To lift oneself out of suffering.

"Poor should be thrown into chambers
"And gassed; their bodies burned.
"For, they are victims of this oppressive culture.
"We ought to harvest their organs
"And use them in our cosmetic products.

"If a child  or man is unloved---
"Rather than show them love---
"We ought to carefully weigh their 
"Benefit to society---
'"Their mourning, it brings down others,
"And my soul is hurt by their mourning---
"And we ought to destroy them.
"Rip open their cranium, and harvest their brains.

"For, if one is a victim,
"We ought to kill them.
"For, that is the ethical,
"And merciful thing to do."

I look at those starving in your country
And I look at the food in mine.
I see you want the freedom---so they say---
To earn a living and eat.
What you fail to understand
Is that America was once much more
Than a place where your freedom was to be fat
And drive a car.
Freedom meant saying what was really on your mind
And speaking against the government.
Freedom was knowing that your stuff wouldn’t be rifled through
By government agents, or that you wouldn’t be spied on.
Freedom was the right to fight against the government if it ever crossed those boundaries.
You should read Roseau.
The freedom of this country was that censorship was against the rules.
Monopolies were against the rules, also.
The Sherman Act made sure of that.

Kids, in the 1980s would smoke cigarettes in the school hallways.
It was common for companies to hold picnics.
You could swim in the river or lake---
There wasn’t safety equipment everywhere
Stifling you, or treating you like you were some kind of fool.
Lawsuits were uncommon.
I could say “Retard” I could say, “Faggot” I could say an offensive joke.
If it truly crossed the line, people would reprimand it.
They wouldn’t cancel it.
YouTube, as you know, had anything a man could imagine on it.
It was the golden age of information.
I could publish anything---hypothetically, though this was never proven---
And I could make a living off of it.
I could challenge the government.
I could speak words of insurrection and not be investigated.
And nobody would bother me.

I don’t feel I have that freedom anymore.
My only freedom, so said my brother one day,
Is to eat. That was my freedom.
And how slowly that freedom is being taken from us
As prices for everything go up---
What was once a forty cent candy bar
Is now two dollars.
What was once a dollar soda bottle
Is now two dollars and fifty cents.
What was once a dollar a pound meat
Is a four dollar a pound meat.
What was once fourteen bags of groceries
Is seven.

I want you to have the freedom I experienced.
I want that for you more than anything.
I know, watching me---it’s my delusion---
You saw an entitled snob who chased Veplow all around the playground.
I don’t want you to starve;
I want you to have work.
If it’s creative, artistic, manual labor, data entry, healthcare, craftsmanship, cookery,
Whatever the job is you have, I want you to enjoy it,
And be satisfied by the blessings of good government.
I invite you to read Roseau.

You had a Communist Revolution.
It left you desolate.
You had a Capitalist Revolution
And your freedoms were taken away.
Work is paramount;
So is entertainment;
So is ample food and clean water,
Sewage systems, electricity…

I wish you had what I had.
It’s my greatest wish that the whole Earth was satisfied by the blessings I’ve had.
Unfortunately, my country is not the ideal nation anymore.
Does one exist? Perhaps it ought to;
Words cannot hurt someone.
Yes, people made fun of me
But it was a common thought that I despised Dodge Ball from my friends.
I did not. I loved Dodge Ball.
The thing I despised was the selfishness, bitterness, arrogance and unkind nature
Of all my peers. Which I took on their bad qualities.
I suppose America is falling for that reason.
But, I invite the whole world to take what we had,
And build for themselves the kind of society I enjoyed.
Ideas ought never be censored;---
Pornography;
Violence;
That might be best censored.
But, then again, what is real is something immoral
If it’s being sold as entertainment.
Real sex, real violence, real life.
Stories are meant to supplement reality, not be reality.

He pointed at the plate
And said, "That's your freedom."

I am haunted by a vision.
There is ample land.
There is ample seed.
There are ample waters.
Yet, because of wars,
All of this has disappeared.
Men live in domes
Where the sky is bronze
And the ground is iron.
Israel is protected by Iron Dome
Which is a dome
And not a missile system.
Outside of the domes
Are dirt, bare, deserted wastelands.
Trillions of men live in termite clustered houses;
And they ready to fight the domes.
To bring down the domes’ wall.
Outside, there is communism.
Inside there is Utopian capitalism.
Outside, the men are sticks;
They are tiny men, feral,
With breast implants and orifices;
Genderless, sexless, raceless…
Techno Cyber Punks---
A homogeneous blob
Fed by injections.
They swarm the pleasure domes
Getting destroyed by nuclear weapons
And their blood becomes rain.