History vs. Vladimir Lenin.
The Rhetoric of Russia is strong
Justifying its abuses.
Almost like the millions slaughtered
Were necessary.
Remember this about communism.

It says, “Everyone has food.”
No. Everyone does not have food.
Troops come into your silos, steal your grain,
And then give you a little cake of cornmeal.

For that cornbread, you lose your voice.
For that cornbread, you lose your work.
For that cornbread, you lose your property.
And still, yet, you are hungry.

Benedict Cumberbatch reads 
"The Best Cover Letter Ever Written."

I like words, too.
But only if they mean something.
Austere words, which communicate man's inner demons.
Blistering words, which scathe human iniquity.
Righteous words, which are pious and just.
To me, casuistry is verbiage which “Crackles, Sparks, Pops,”
Is “Gluttonous, Voluptuous, Gelatinous and Toady.”
Finding “Demimondes” when you could simply say, “Flapper”.
Sexy is a good word, because everyone knows it.
But describing the woman’s sumptuous lips;
Why not just call them kissable?

Oh, I love words, when they speak the truth.
When they vacuously “Tinkle and Tick and Creek and Crank”
It sends chills up my spine, and I want to vomit.
I hate those words; they are gaudy excesses.
Give me an excursus describing Stirling Engines
And build a society to the stars; colonize Andromeda’s Galaxy,
Speculate on the Quasars; theorize about gravity and the grave.

Words are my Aegis, and my mien is sullen when “Salacious, scandalous, and suave”
Words are guarded at the gates of the Orthodoxy of Svengalis who deem 
Grammatical Sentences as obsolete. 
Man is man. Woman is woman.

Casuistry, Sophistry, Postmodern messes
Trick the existentialist generation
Who find meaning from nowhere…
And they like the thrill of “Suck, tongue, lick, lavish”.

I have nothing base to say.
I deal in the realms of Philosophy;
The higher forms
The archetypes of civilization;
The meanings and nuances of all life
And the Sphere we live upon called the Earth.

Am I a better writer?
If that is good writing, I am the worst.
Yet, my writing means something
And that is all I ever intended it to be.

Western Civilization's End

Seven men piously sit,
Arranged in a circle
Discussing the matter of truth.
Each gives their discourse,
And each discourse arrives closer and closer to the truth.
Finally, the last man speaks,
And He finds the very face of God.
Then, a degenerate man enters into the party
Has that last man abused,
And with the last man's absence, initiates an orgy.

Several months later,
A new civilization arises from the ashes of the last.

There were beasts,
Who cautiously arrived
At a delicatessen of human food
Which lay upon the forest floor.
The animals would take bites;
Never did they eat the whole portion.

There’s wisdom in this.
Both that the wild beasts
Were cautious to give up their freedom
For easily trifled upon meat;

But also, that they ate
To what filled them, and no more;
Also, that they left the morsels,
Perhaps for fear of predators,
Or perhaps by Godly design
Which they understood
Was right, and honorable,
To eat the portion enough for oneself
And leave the portion enough for others.

Eternal is the LORD's love for Israel.
It is deeper than the Planc Length.
It is wider than the Twelve Universes;
Aye wider than all Universes man can discover.

We possess the LORD’s Word upon our heart
The knowledge of good and evil.
As sure as the stars and sun ordain the Seasons
As sure as the Earth’s foundations never can be reached
So is the LORD’s love for His people Eternal.

Had I a talent,
And I a skeptic,
I would bet Christ an Eastern Mystic.

Had the Western Philosopher a talent,
And surely he is a skeptic,
He would bet Christ a manifestation of Greek Philosophy.

I have a talent,
And I am no skeptic,
I will bet my soul that this conundrum proves the universality of Christ's teaching;
How a homeless, carpenter's Son could find all truths on his own
Without an education.
West and East corroborate His claims
And prove He is God manifested in the Flesh.

Dear,
Jude

You asked our brother, “Why won’t you reveal yourself to the world?” I will set out to answer that question for you.

I, you too, thought very well that you could fix the world if you made it better. If you spread love and kindness. If there were but love, the world would be better. If there were but money flowing in the street, and nobody had any need. But, remember Adam and Eve in the Garden had no need. And yet both still sinned. Remember that Satan in heaven had no need. And yet he still sinned. Remember that Judas Iscariot had the money changer, and wealth and honor, but he still sinned.

There’s a false presumption that perhaps you and I have created, that we have created, that if you just sought to fix what is broken in a society, it would mend all ills. That men would no longer go astray, and that there would be a paradise on the earth.
	
Who beside God would enforce this? Certainly a government of man, or as John Lennon put it, “The Brotherhood of Man”. They would enforce these laws. And like my “Fifth Angel’s Trumpet”, it would be called an “Anarchy”, when in reality there would still be laws. The youth’s heart is in that book. All of a Youth’s best wishes. And they come crumbling down. As will the Beast System---which will seek to exercise authority upon the Earth and chastise injustice.

There’d be nothing more oppressive than forcing men to never be robbers. If every second of every day were monitored, and every ill deed were caught on camera, and prosecuted. There’d be no end to the misery---it would effectively be hell. And that is why there is grace. That is why there are Good Samaritans. Because at the existence of Evil, at the existence of injustice, there is more freedom for a man to do what is right. And that freedom is slowly waning away, vanishing with the midnight wind.

Should the Communists, the Socialists, the Social Justice Warriors, the Black Lives Matter, the Antifa, the Fascists, the Utopians---should they get their world, it would be an utter hellish world with no freedom. None to do good, and none to do evil. Every choice would be made by some force which is not God---and perhaps that is what hell is to God’s heaven. If man will not succumb to Grace, and be indwelt by the Holy Spirit and enabled to do good by it, then Satan will indwell those same men, and force them into subservience to a wicked plot. That men will be succumbed to the misery of peer pressure, social justice and freedom will be abandoned for the Utopian dream which sanitizes men of all their vices. And that is what Satan likely wants. For men to be sanitized of their vice, and beholden to his wicked authority. Never having choice anymore, but suffering under his Utopian vision.

There is nothing more scary to me than this. It has been my observation when in school that the school’s decision was to restrict freedom to stop students from partaking in vice. Rather than allow a few odd students the freedom to undermine their school careers, rather than give a few students the freedom to be fat and unhealthy, they took from us the freedom to make those choices. Rather than suffer the bad eggs to make bad decisions, they stole from us the decision altogether. And in turn, they take from us the freedom to make good decisions, and they take from us the luxury of having those good things.

And that is the reason the world cannot understand the Son. Because the Son is freedom. He is alleviation of the stress of having committed wrong, he is alleviation of the consequences of having done what was not right---he is the freedom to choose good and thereby be a good Samaritan. For, if the world were so sanitized that there could no longer be Good Samaritans, than the world would be sanitized of all its freedom. And that world would be misery. It would be hell.

For Christ is the freedom to do what’s right, and the forgiveness to be cleansed of what’s wrong. The world does not see this, but only sees sin and it wishes to remove all of it, and so sanitize sin from the world. And in doing that, there can be no thing good in the world; for doing good is working against sin. For, the world understands sin, but it does not understand mercy. And mercy is the best part of this world.

Stately Priest, of the order of Melchizedek;
King, and Priest, honored champion of the meek:
Uzziah, remind me of gluttony, of wealth, of honor
How it is unbefitting for man to take the role of Christ.
Christ, Healer, is not his Surname, but his office
Who could heal thee from thy leprosy.
Yet, you, taking the office to perform the priestly duties
As King, the offices were separated for a reason.
Only the Lion of Judah, the Messiah, the Son of David
Has the right to perform both the rituals of sacrifice
And the rituals of cleansing, and the rituals of divine statehood.
No other may possess this spiritual role of Priest and King.
That is why, Uzziah, when you went to burn incense upon the alter
You were stricken with your disease.
For a feeling overcame you---one which is not yours---
To cleanse thyself from thy wicked deeds.
When this ritual is to be performed by the priest
And thy ritual is to be performed of the King’s.
Even a king’s office is under the smiting hand of the LORD
That there are holy sacraments given to both kings and priests
And their offices, of man, ought never be mixed.

From my dad I learned the language of Freud;
Learned the stock markets would one day fall;
That the housing market was like a steroid;
I learned how to predict the future’s laws.

From my mom I learned the facts of life;
I learned that man was man, and a woman woman.
I learned love conquers all of life’s strife.
 She called me a philosopher, and that would stand.

My mind was a garden of wars and dialogues;
It was filled with lusts for adventure’s safe
In my child’s play. Never had I heard demagogue’s
Tongue, never had my mind been influenced by hate.

My best friends taught me play, structure and wisdom.
My apparition of love taught me the purpose of life.
My country taught me the value of freedom.
My apparition of love taught me to seek a wife.

Like Chateaubriand or Milton I fell in love with her,
The idea, the perfect form of woman played her part:
Her ideal was there to ever in my imagination ensure
That my purpose would serve to chasten the heart.

I read over fifty of the timeless classics,
I pursue the secret certainty in geometry.
I have seen highest goodness in love’s charming hex;
I have tasted the lowest evils by hatred’s calumny.

I have seen both the highest goods and lowest ills;
I have studied the art of Word for fifteen years.
I have known what it is like to kill
And to wake up from that nightmare’s fear.

I have a science of the soul exact and true.
I understand men both good and bad.
I understand what drives me and you
I only wish not to be a passing fad.

How uneeded was this school---
It did not understand Marx.
It could not understand Marx.
The automaton could not replace man.
The philosopher could not be replaced by the scientist.
The worker could not be replaced by the machine.
The church could not be replaced by the collective.

To defeat it, one must break the machine.
One must put to the plough and back into the soil.
One, to retain their freedom and property
Must break the idol to dust.

“This Machine Kills Fascists.”
No. The machine is the engine of Fascism.
“This Machine Kills Communists.”
No. The machine is the engine of communism.

This machine must be abandoned.
Yet, it can only be so, when a culture arises
Which will sufficiently succor man with his needs.
A counter culture,
Given a plot of land which nobody wants
And the world can succumb to its wretched vices.
Yet, we Christians will build our civilization
Without the machine---
We will tailor, we will cobble,
We will mason, we will lumber
We will farm, we will make music
We will dance, we will make art,
We will build houses, churches and museums.
We will have everything we need
For ourselves, and we will be weaponless.
We will be protected by our austerity.