Like a fine wood
A book need not be cleaned---
Do not take sandpaper over its agéd leaves.
For white as opal pages,
Need not be made by the sages
For a patina on a book is good.

A misfit makes a philosopher,
From Plato to Nietzsche.
We cannot do, so we think.
He thought the shadows on the wall
Were the idylls of philosophy:
I thought the hands that made the puppets;
The creative imagination that sought to make it;
And the moral consequences of what the puppet's actions were.

And in that, I saw in Christ, Nietzsche's superman.
So I was sufficed he was not so much a genius
As my LORD and Savior was.

We both lived nearly identical souls---
We couldn't help it.
Yet, I sought up, and he sought within.
And I knew what hurt me,
While he wallowed in that which made him broken.

Go into the city,
Take their women to be yours.
Cut their hair, and make them yours.
Kill all the men. Destroy the children.
Make slaves and concubines.
So long as their laws are evil
It is permitted, and their punishment.
A nation that slaughtered their own children
Molested them, raped their own women---
The kindness shown by a Jew would be a new
Kind of love the woman never had before.

Also, this is why we don't need war in the 21st century
Is that all these things will happen.

He says, "For not one yote nor tiddle
"Shall pass from the Law, until all is accomplished
"And heaven and Earth pass away."

Truthfully, I plainly tell him,
"This is true, but there are two covenants
"And two laws, one of condemnation and another of grace."

To which, I quote many verses, and he his one.
And then he says I made a pathetic response
To which, I guess Paul's meanings are unknown to him.

I say, "The seed is eaten up by the fowl
"And you are constantly learning, but never arriving at the truth."
To which he says I am talking about a mirror.

At some point, he blocks me... and this argument happens often
About a lot of different subjects, the real answer is nuanced
But they want a singular, and linear form.

A Jaded pedant, tortured by his fame
Trying to sell his soul to the audience
And his craft, to make it relevant again.
Torturously wrong about everything
But his concepts in vogue, yet never original.
That is the author I could be.
I almost ask him, "Why are you so angry?"
And then I realize... yes... I realize.

I called you the Antichrist...
I should not have.
Stay out of war...
I'm sorry for saying so,
But the truth is I was sick
As I still am,
And taught to prophesy
When I really shouldn't have.
Again, stay out of war.
For I should not have judged.

Walk with me through the fields
And rub the grains upon the stalks
Wheaty is the fruit, and fish upon the beach
With mustard and some salt.

I recline with You, at Your bosom
And feel absolute Platonic love…
The reaching for the highest goodness
And I know You came from above.

Enjoy our company, You were a man
You lived upon this Earth one day…
The teachings man had taught
Were not Yours or the right way.

You taught us to love our neighbor
You taught us to obey our kings;
Even if unto death, they say
Yet You led Israel around in rings
When man had seen You, first time
In the deserts they did drive.

The second time, the second time,
You were there crucified.

Why does man go so crazy
When they see the face of God?
Only the righteous can approach You
And only the righteous do You give a nod.
Thus, what was taught, I know not the sundry thing…
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Christ, You my soul, to heaven, brings.

The great congregation at market was set, that all the Mollusks came to sell their shells. And great were the shells, they'd break pieces off of themselves, and sell it to all the other animals of the sea.

An Oyster came to market, too, with a peculiar object. A great, rainbow pearl, with many colors swirling in its opalescent sheen. The other sea creatures looked upon it, and laughed, "That, that's not worth a dime. It's just made from an upset bowel. You ought to cast it away, and sell pieces of your shell like the rest of us."

But, the Oyster persisted, and every week the sea creatures would grow disturbed that this Oyster would not relent to sell his shell. "Why does this fool keep it up? If he just broke pieces of his shell, and sold them, he'd be rich like us. Instead, he tries to sell this worthless thing?"

Finally, a Man was walking through the market, and saw the pearl... he was not so much interested in the shells... and all the Sea Creatures were content to purchase their bullion among themselves. But, the Man, seeing the pearl was dazzled by it, never seeing anything like it. "This is why I come to market," said the Man, who offered a whole lifetime's salary for the one pearl.

Finally, all the other sea creatures were impressed, but also a bit jealous. But  some, even, made pearls themselves.

©2024 B. K. Neifert
All Rights Reserved

There once was a Lamb, full of wool. He sheared himself every winter for his penury. Yet, he lived with a Wolf, whom would tell the Lamb every winter, "No one buys wool anymore, only cotton." Yet, the Lamb's wool was so soft and luxurious, the Wolf secretly stole the Lamb's wool, and sold it to make the finest dyed sweaters.

The Lamb would wonder why there be not any profit, and would bleat for help. Came the Lion; he too, being king, saw the wool was excellent, and took his cut from the Wolf, to hide the misdeed.

Finally, a Man came upon the sheep, and wondered why he was poor. He found out, and shot the Wolf and Lion dead, and restored the profits to the Lamb with interest. For the Man was the Sheep's Shepherd, and Caretaker, and kept him fed in his poverty all those years, and loved his little Lamb.

©2024 B. K. Neifert
All Rights Reserved

The armies come upon their chariots,
Strong men, whom Mebd knows...
Glittering is their armor,
Great is their might.
Stirred into battle by rumors at a bad pig roast.
Yet, Mebd knows how to make peace.
She brings the maidens out of their huts
Bare chested, and numerous.
And they await the host.
For what stirs the barbarian's heart
To cease combat, is the offering of women.
Mebd knows the hearts of her compatriots well...
And then games proceed, where heroes do their duty
And the comical Ulsters go about their business
With their weird politics, of stirrings and caprice.

How I wonder if our world leaders are not like so?