Tag: Poetry

The Rarity of Our Society

I

The rarity of our society
That we can live off of what we’ve made
Is a thing fleeting the grasp of our rich men
That it can be lost.

The hoary head, wisely
Knows he made his thirty cents
When he was a young man.
And by work he became rich.

There have been other societies
Other Chinas, as the Chinese would call Rome
In its peak, where men lived and ate
And were not slaves.

Reading a “Communist Newspaper”
Casually, I thought he meant it was really communist.
Happily, I entertained he was misguided
But was happy that the paper was published.

He meant the common Newspaper was Communist.
Unfortunately, Capitalism can have those same problems;
We used to call it Feudalism, Mercantilism,
Guilds that controlled all trade.

He mentioned going to college.
One hundred thousand dollars of debt
I’d probably never pay off.

He mentioned painting.
I’m a writer… my soft hands testify
To the fact, and my inherent lack of any other ability.

Yet, there is a guide below giving a writer tips.
Tips I will never follow…
It is not the pretty words that make a poem.

But what it means.
And the fact that there are tips
Shows why the Earth is slowly becoming poor.

II

Seven people read this poem, not one liked it.
It was suggested, “Do what you love, though.”
What I love? I can write whatever I want…
But harsh truths nobody wants.

Do you understand what that suggestion means?
It means none of you will eat.
Impossible standards that preclude Shakespeare
From ever making money.

Hypocrites. You self censor, making this profession
Unable to support those who need it.
What if I can… hypothetically,
Write well? Does an artifice of pretty lies
Create your love for poetry?
That isn’t artificial?

Need I write in pentameter?
Need I write in tetrameter?
Need I write at all?
Hypocrites.

So you don’t like reading this…
Well… you pay your twelve dollars to enter a contest
That gives you points.
A racket… I’ll “Write what I love,”
Because what I love is the truth.

The truth is… I need to eat.
And this poem is about eating…
It is about truth…
Truth doesn’t need a cozy little “Active Language,”
Nor criticize my helper verbs.
I can take them out, and still write just fine.
I’ve done it all.

The truth… I don’t eat for the same reason you don’t.
Standards that impose harsh taxes on talent
But none on simony.

III

Grammar snobs jeer at a misspelled word.
How it got there, maybe a typo?
In all actuality—a pet phrase, give me that—
You can understand I meant “He”
And not “Me.” Can’t you?

What I really mean to say
Is that the market demand
For “Active Language,”
No, “Mary Sues”
No, “Exposition,”
No, “Creativity,”

Nobody understands the reference to China
I know… So I spell it out rather than leave it as an Easter egg…
Pretentious? Maybe. But I have written the Odes of Brittos.
So… spare me to not write pretty
And to give heed to a whim.

No… nothing is so exceptional about Frost
Yet he’s read like a god.
I don’t want to be a god.
I want to eat, and pave the way so all can eat
With what they work hard to produce.

Do you recognize those suggestions are just to frustrate you?
To tell you, “You will never be good enough
“Because you weren’t born with a silver spoon
“And you weren’t born into society.”

So you wrote like Robert Frost.
Nobody will purchase it
Because one man presides over another
And time and chance forsakes all things
When a writer doesn’t come from the right background.

Yet, work hard he says…
I work hard. The hardest working Bartleby
And will you recognize that’s a reference to Melville?
I’ve scribed in ink several dozen notebooks.
Obviously I’m a Scribner.
I don’t mind hand writing,
Though I’ve been told,
My whole life
That I have a writing disability
AND I CANNOT WRITE!
Hand write.
But, two brief cases worth of handwritten notebooks

I am a hard working Bartleby—
And none of you know the reference, do you?
I don’t insult your intelligence
But that if I wrote Plato’s Republic
With a Heroine out to destroy the society
And perhaps had a few children die
I’d be a millionaire right now.
That’s what you want.

But it’s not what you’re going to get.

IV.

Life is a harsh vicissitude of bitter medicine.
I love my society because I can
As I assumed
Write a communist newspaper
And live.
As stupid as it might seem
To be a communist
And make money on a Newspaper,
As unthankful,
As ungrateful,
It is their right if that’s all that can feed them.

Sitting next to the old man
I thought he was a communist
But he was a die hard capitalist.
Rightly, I can’t tell the difference right now
Between Communism and Capitalism.
We like things neatly defined
But what I told him
Is exactly what I’ll tell you.

You can have any economy under the sun
If you have a just and right people.
Equity cannot be legislated
It must be practiced by every one of us.

But, when I see someone exploiting the hopes
And the dreams, of people who, if given the amount of work
Still cannot earn a living… I tend to question my economy.
Not only because I’ve made a small amount
On what is objectively good poetry…
But the fact that I see this website prescribing me
A style, when I’ve worked 10 years, with over 20,000 hours
Producing my style.

As if a style were all it took to get published
And everyone works hard on perfecting their style
But says the same cliche poems over
And over,
And over,
And over,
And over again.

Rather, I’d take no style
With something meaty to say.
Do you understand?
I hope you do.
A style isn’t worth a damn
If you have nothing to say with it.
And to have the audacity
To tell me a thing about my style
Leads me to believe that it is a corruption
In the market that doesn’t allow
Me, but does allow poets who know nothing
About punctuation
Earn from their work.

Please, indulge me in this…
Like I said it’s simony
And I use it to connote
That rather than sell our work
We buy our work, as Authors
Which means that people don’t read our work
But us.

To which I would reply,
Then if nobody looks at a painting
Nobody reads a book
Nobody listens to a song
Nobody watches a chess game
Nobody buys a wooden duck
Nobody appreciates a little crystal swan
Nobody appreciates a hand carved folk art piece
Nobody desires to look at Venus or David…
Then really, there can only be poverty.
Those things are what make us human,
And to realize that we add salt to this life
Of humdrum, and not only that
But teach and hand down traditions…

It’s difficult for me to communicate what I mean fully

 

V.

Finally, an Ode

Jane… my beloved Jane…
You’d never get published today.
Love, I love you more than all the rest.

Leo, my good father, Leo…
Nobody would read you.
You are the man who conceived me.

William, oh you wordsmith
Nobody would love you like me.
Nobody… nobody.

Frank… Paul’s a Mary Sue.
Jules… nobody wants to hear about your submarine.
Wells… who cares that you could predict nuclear war.

Beloved’s a weak word…
I love you is a cliche…
Do understand, Amarisa,
That’s what the poem is about.

 

If you liked this poem, please purchase a copy from Amazon. Thank you!

A Father’s Wisdom

O, my books were Corban.

But my dad had needed them

So I could leave him with the peace

That his son would be fed.

 

So Christ said, “Do not make things Corban.”

For the alter is what makes sacred, not the gift,

And the alter is to absolve from sins.

 

Fire works explode the moment I realize

I must do this…

I must keep my blog…

I must advertise…

Know this is what he told me to do

In order to give him rest

That when he is gone,

I will not be poor and an outcast.

 

O, how many times did I want to give up on this blog.

How many times I wanted to give up on my dream.

But, a father’s wisdom, is that he wants his sons to succeed.

So, I listen to him, who finally has bestowed a blessing

On this meek talent of mine,

Which he said to me, “Do not be the one who buries it in the sand.”

So, please, I hope you understand

That many promises I’ve made,

I cannot keep.

I have to eat.

 

If you like what you read

Please purchase my books,

So I can eat, and be happy,

And I wish the same for you.

Thank you.

The Thirteen Kings; The Codex for My Mythology

The Thirteen Kings

Pekah, King of Israel – The False Ephraim or Athena. Absalom. He comes as Medea, and uses meogic to do unnatural things. He can place Giant Souls in innocent people, he can transform into strange forms, and he is an expert in all meogic.

Prince of Tyre – Or Thor. He commands the armies of Elves and Orcs and Vikings, and has magical abilities to throw people into other realms.

Nero – The Beast, Or Judas Iscariot, or Wicked John; he has the power to control other people’s bodies by the Giant Soul. He is the ruler of Rome, or the Earthly Airs, and is trying to gain possession of the whole Earth.

Nebo – Or The Bull. He has the power to live your prosperous life as you are in captivity for sin. He does all the things you shouldn’t, and gets rich doing it.

Chemosh – Beelzebub, the goddess of Fairyland, Belial, the ruler of the Spirit of the Air, or the ruler of Atlantis and Elysium; a ruler of the Grave and Fairyland.

Abaddon – The Two Horned Beast, the False Prophet, or the Grave. Death. The human embodiment of Leviathan. Prometheus. He, also, has the same powers as Nebo, but is far more powerful. He is the ruler of the Grave, and has power over it. He is allied with Nero to take over the Earth.

Yehonason – Lucifer, also known as Rezin Mad, he is the king of Assyria. He oppresses the peoples of God. He is in league with Abaddon and Nero. He is of the tribe of Ephraim, but has command over Assyria and Ephraim.

Jezebel Zarathustra – She has the power of lies, to accuse the saints of everything the Other Thirteen have done while impersonating them. Sometimes is called Belial, too.

Nebuchadnezzar – Also known as Sheshak. He has a war against Rezin Mad and Abaddon, but then turns evil when he sees the corruption of man, and grows angry with God when He doesn’t avenge the Saints. So, when the Nation Israel persecutes its prophets, Nebuchadnezzar comes and conquers them to avenge the Prophets.

Daughter of Babylon – Also known as the Whore of Babylon, the Queen over the city of Istanbul. She has power over the world’s commerce, connecting the Giant Kingdoms of Mars and Jotunheim with the Earth.

Daughter of Moab – The Daughter of Nebo and Chemosh. She persecutes the Saints until they are found to be saints, and then turns upon Nebo and Chemosh.

Zoan – A Sphynx with the power of the Elf Jewel to transform into a man or Satyr. He was created in human labs with the power of the Angel Swords. He was then taken back to Egypt where he became the gatekeeper of time for the elves.

Tyrus – Also known as Helen of Troy or Helen of Tyre. She wrote all of the myths written by Virgil and Homer, and is credited as being the most beautiful woman to ever live. She has power over men, to draw them off of their walk with Christ with her vanity.

 

Other Noteworthy Characters

Ammon Ra – The King of the Ammonites. We have seen him in Adolph Hitler, Chairman Mao and Stalin. He is at war with the Saints, but is the least of all these.

Hezekiah – The King of Israel who’s faith and prayer caused God to defeat Rezin Mad.

Cyrus – Judas Son of James, Jude, and the Persian king who defeated Babylon, Assyria and Media at the height of their empires, and he also returned the Jews to their homes.

David – The Conquering Messiah. In other words, Christ’s Second Coming. The one who is at the head of all the Nethanim.

Brittos – Shem, son of Noah, the Nethanim who founded Great Britain by conquering the Grea, and later would confront Medea and Thor and overcome them.

Beowulf the Less- The Nethanim who blew the Fifth Trumpet, and fought through the fiercest internal wars during Armageddon, son of James the Less.

Joash – One of David’s Mighty Men credited for calling on Prestor John to aid in the war against Christiandom.

Prestor John – The king of the Protestant Kingdoms.

Paul – One of the Twelve Apostles.

Solomon – The wisest man who ever lived.

James – King Arthur, and one of the Twelve Apostles.

Lear – The Danish King who ruled over Britain, and was suzerained by Yehonason.

Mordred – Yehonason, the Black Knight and the Sheriff of Nottingham.

Elora – The wife of Brittos.

Robin Hood – Jeremiah, and the one who freed England from the clutches of Mordred and Arthur, when he was demon possessed.

Sung Wukong – A warrior who used moegic for his power, and lost to Thor in mortal combat.

Siddhartha – A Baalim who created Buddhism.

Muhammad – A Baalim who created Muhammadanism.

Zelek – David’s Mighty man who was an Ammonite, of the nation who were the sworn enemies of Israel. He killed his former king Ammon Ra in battle.

Tavid – A mighty man who fought alongside Zelek when they went to battle with Nebo and Ammon Ra.

Albion’s Queen – The type of earthly authorities and legitimate governments, given to protect animals, nature and humans from the Thirteen Kings.

Broom Crown New – Me, the Nethanim of these stories.

 

 

Just Some of the Creatures Found in Fairyland

 

Blodtudor – A vampire, and duke, who attained immortality by making a deal with the devil that if he consumed the blood of the innocent, he’d be forever young.

Stonebat – A gargoyle, who is immortal so long as he is not stone, and transforms into a creature when night falls.

The Fairy Lord – Also known as the Caerbanog, the Fairy Witch, a creature with power over visions and what men consume on their idols. It is under the control of Medea.

Astille – A Gorgon the size of a mountain, with a centipede body, slain by Beowulf.

Olgid – The General of the final war of Armageddon. He is a symbol for Cruelty.

Daethon – The Captain of the final war of Armageddon. He is a symbol for Worldlust and Sloth.

The Wyrm – A Dragon who hordes gold.

Natahunt – The Hydra of the Slough of Despond.

The Orc – A sea monster; not to be confused with Leviathan.

Leviathan – The Grave, or She’ol, or the Sea, or Davy Jone’s Locker, or Atlantis, or the “Blessed” Isle, or Fairyland; the one whose belly consumes the dead and drives sinners who are perishing insane, to cause them to covet death.

 

Notable Relics:

 

Hrotheon – Beowulf’s Sword, which he forged with his own wisdom.

Silver Sting – A mythical sword of silver wielded by several saints, forged with a piece of the book of St. Jude being mulled over while being forged.

Excalibur – The sword of King Arthur, the strongest sword in the world.

Deathrain – The sword wielded by Voggleswyrd.

Brittos’ Shield – A mythical shield given to Brittos from heaven, that when broken, will come back later on in combat when he needs it.

Shields – Represent the Shield of Faith in the Armor description Paul used in Ephesians.

The Whalebone Spear – Brittos’ spear, typed after the weapon of choice of David’s Mighty men.

The Fruit of Life – A fruit that when eaten, will give the consumer immortality. It is fiercely negative, because it implies you will live forever on the earth, and men are not supposed to, otherwise they go insane and reap destruction.

Ogcragnock – Excalibur’s mortal enemy.

Skildbladnir – Or the Skidbladnir, it is the flagship of the Elves’ fleet.

The Snail Jewel – An alien technology used to transform people into other objects.

 

If you like what you read, click the link, and purchase a copy of my book. Thank you.

 

My Crazy Thought Life

Who Am I?

Who am I?
I speak… how I speak
But there seems to only be falsehood.
Call it Auto Mythology
But my mythology is complete.
The giants are slain;
What were those giants?
They were complexes about not being loved
Being feared, being a bad person.

Now it’s time for the silent,
Whisper of the oboe
To silently steal the show
As peace floods my bones.
I call on You LORD,
All day long;
This talent I love.
Give me my wife and children
And my talent.
I have invested it?
Haven’t I?
I’ve given the world
Hope, in an age where it is small.

LORD, here is my honest opinion.
It’s time for the mythology to end.
The fields of giants
In my life, that being the torpid
Regrets of my past mistakes
The belief that nobody would love me:
Elisha… I write this.
I feel like I’m in a drawn bath.
Like a wind is brushing against my palm.

This talent I love
For I serve God with it:
I speak wisdom,
I break the clods.
What are the clods?
Deleted words
Learning grammar
Struggling to learn my craft
Obtaining true wisdom;
Perhaps, perhaps, some clods I don’t understand.
For I write on this sheath
Believing in the future.

My friend told me:
“We’ll blow ourselves up.”
LORD, you know this is not true.
If a conspiracy is found against me
Let me never see it.
For who am I?
This writer?
Not Judas Son of James
Not Beowulf the Less
Not the Prince of Scots;
What am I?
I am a writer
Who loves my craft.
And thank you,
Pages of this Sheath,
For being my psychologist.
For accepting me,
When nobody else would.
Here, I feel open and at home.
I feel like I have a voice
And even if only a few listen to it
It’s there for someone to see;
And if someone sees it
They see me.
Alabaster Straw

Slowly moving to the tempest rhythms
Is the time signature of Alabaster Straw
The rooted worth of the wrings
Of torpid bells upon the shining cavalcade.
There, cavalcade of alabaster
Trot through your stables of Alabaster Straw
As the tempest knells ring
For the shooting wars of the brigade.

Jeweled sandstone
The Arabian Knights
March through your deserts:
So says the Huns,
Coming back from the war with you.
Huns, Arabians
Meet for the final clash.
The Arabian Knights
Move through alabaster straw
The Cavalcade of one hundred strong.

Ring knell, ring, the repentant soul speaks:
“Alabaster Knight! So comes Attila the Hun;
Ready to war with the Knights of the Desert Alabaster Stone.”
Thus, the Prince of Thieves speaks to me:
“I’m coming for you.”
I do not blush, but reply,
“Here comes the Cavalcade
Your Cavalcade
To fight Attila the Hun;
Yet, the mighty Nethanim march behind me.”

Their war means nothing to the Nethanim
Whose power is high;
Faith brings them power
So crafts cannot prosper against them.
There they are, ten thousand strong
Arrayed in rows:
God’s angels steeped in goodness
Stand aside
As the World,
Attila and the Prince of Thieves
Ready for their war cry.

Slowly moving to the tempest rhythms
There comes the Alabaster steeds
And the Huns in armament against.
Reach for the heavens
Prince of Thieves,
Here’s my army of Angels
Ready to thwart you.
Attila is your equal.
The Nethanim are your fear.
For I am the name you fear:
St. Praise the Wise Praised
Changing Broom Tree Upon a Hill
Diadem of the New Son of Israel.

Fear not my name
Prince of Thieves:
For I have spoken kindness to you.
Thwarting me brings you only pain
I know it: For there are others whose
Interest is in my hurt.
Continue, Prince of Thieves
With thy breeding of thy steeds.
For they are stallions;
I am a Third Order King, of the Sainthood
I abscond my kingdom here on the Earth. Selah.

 

My Sisyphean Myth Persona

So, what delusion is this
To think I’m actually Judas Son of James?
What delusion is this,
To think there are Kings from Hell?
What delusion is this
To think that Satan has a galaxy ring?
What delusion is this?
It’s just my myth;
Don’t believe it.

Remember, friends
That the mind is a seal of all sorts of dreams.
My dreams come here, and I express them free.
My actual life is not so boring,
But painful to speak.
A divorced family
Constant bullying
Two very tragic sins
Captivity,
And the hope for revival.
Not a spy,
Not a prince
Not Judas Son of James;
A Saint, yes.
Perhaps, friends,
Perhaps, I am God’s servant.
Not Cyrus, not a false prophet
For I don’t prophesy;
I don’t claim to have written scripture.
For, if I prophesy, I do so foolishly.

I say this: I’m a lover, a fighter, a rebel
But also a Saint.
Sainthood comes from owning your past
Bearing your consequences
And hoping God can fix all of it.
Just know, friends, just know:
I’m not so deluded as you think.
It’s just fiction: And fiction
Is in part dreams.
The myth won’t destroy me
Because it is just myth.
There are no kings seeking to destroy me:
For what? They don’t exist.
Understand, citizens of the world:
This myth is simply myth.
A myth of Sisyphus.
For I am not Sisyphus
And there is no boulder.
For, world, are you so deluded
To think that there are kings?

Here is this writer’s persona,
Pushing that boulder up the hill
And it falls back upon him
Over and over again;
For he needs a giant to slay.
I don’t; the constant abuse I’ve suffered from peers and family
Is a giant enough. Where are they?
Do they exist? No.
Don’t get caught in this delusion;
It’s just a world I’ve invented
Where I play as a character.
Not me, but a self-insert;
Heroic, bold, but in real life I’m just
As pathetic as the rest of mankind.
So, who do I put forward?
Me, or this? I’ll be Stan Lee
My Persona Peter Parker
And Judas Son of James my Spider Man.

Little Mead

Upon the halls with Beowulf
There stood Unferth, of course
Beowulf indeed.
There stood Unferth and Beowulf
So here is the story of Little Mead.

There he drank his honey wine
And listened to Beowulf boast
So once our hero was finished
Little Mead called a toast.
But Unferth took to table
And gave his cacophonous cry.
There Beowulf challenged him
With a story for all times.
But Unferth spoke no goodness
And Beowulf was left aghast
Until Little Mead, that scrawny fellow
Took Unferth to task.
“Unferth, thou silly soul
Doth thou not see he?
His muscles are strong
His hair is long
And his sword reaches
To his knees.
For, what warrior are you
Unferth, who ever fought that Grendel?
Me, I know my smallness
For it is to I that Beowulf is lended
So Beowulf will fight the demon
Within this hallowed hall
And that Grendel will be defeated
When Beowulf’s war cry is called.”

Then Unferth, big and mighty
Shodded up his girt
And he began to spake of Little Mead
To his very hurt.
“What has thee, Little Mead
Done so mighty brave?
I see your scrawny form
And your sword easy to break.
What is this? Damascus steel
Nay, t’is only bronze.
Your sword is weak
Your flesh is meek
And I have killed many sons.
Giants and warriors innumerable.”

Beowulf, hearing the fight, took to table with might
And then said to Unferth, these faithful words it’s true:
“Unferth, thou art a silly man, to think thy talk is good
For a giant you slayed? Then Grendel you would have two.
For so you speak so bravely, yet this little man has heart
That he looks to his heroes, and encourages them by far.
For if I could have jumped a furlong, I now could jump twain
And If I could slay a Giant, Grendel’s arm I could now break.

Grendels we all know,
And Unferths are very gay;
Yet Unferth is more intolerable,
For he speaks what no brave man would say.

For a Beowulf is strong, but a Little Meads are stronger.
A Little Mead encourages the mighty
And gives them courage to fight a little longer.

For, Little Mead would die against Grendel this is true.
But, the very fact of the matter is, so very much would you.”

 

Neifert, B. K. My Collected Writings. Kindle Direct, 2017.

Why I Love India

A billion people in the world

I knew nothing about it.

Until I realized it was pretty important.

 

I see you where we were in the 1920s.

Ready to burgeon, and bring your people food.

Ready to bring your people houses.

Shelter.

 

A poem I read spoke eagerly about maybe this being the year

That India will have its stand in the market.

A drought I read about, was bad.

Yet, freely you have the press…

You have your free internet.

You have your freedoms to read just about every poem I’ve ever written.

Gladly, I want you to have my style home…

I want you to have rain,

And cornfields, and cotton fields

And peach trees, and vineyards.

I want your poor to be fed.

I want your people to not live in sheds.

I want them to have nice sized homes.

It’s a lie that you can’t… it really is.

There’s plenty of land, and there’s plenty of air

To give you all nice homes.

Communism won’t do it…

Capitalism might.

But… You’ll have to patronize artists.

You’ll have to patronize hard work.

If you want my type of house…

If you want my privileges—

And I’m privileged, along with all of America—

You have to take your freedom of speech

And speak out with every ounce of who you are.

You have to understand, in my society it is not unjust.

But injustice exists.

Your country, injustice exists, much worse than in mine.

But… I want you to eat.

I want you to have vineyards, and shelters.

But you have to speak out.

You have to participate in your government.

You have to, like me, talk your lips off…

You have to make a lot of wrong predictions

Before you can start getting them right…

You have to frustrate entire countries.

 

I fight for you,

For China,

For Russia,

For America,

For Brazil,

And all of Africa

Asia, Europe…

Because I have a good life.

And I can’t believe that you don’t.

But, if I’m leveled into poverty

After a significant amount of effort and hard work…

What does that say for you?

You may not hate me…

You may actually like me…

But I want all of you to eat

And even be Christian…

Yes, because I know your religion frustrates you…

But you know as well as I do that there is a spiritual truth.

Why not just bow to one God?

Instead of many?

Why not bow down to Christ?

I have a notion to believe

That’s why my society prospered,

And as we run away from that fairness

And equity of hard work ethics

And food is plentiful…

Jesus brings rain.

I’ve prayed for it several dozen times

Silently, so nobody would hear.

Precisely what I pray happened.

I have no explanation for it.

The mantel of my religion

And my society’s success

Rests on you… here it’s slipping away.

Where you are, I can see it happening.

Remember that Israel, our nation

Did a lot of hard work to make a desert green.

But, rains testify one last thing

That for them to come, there must be a blessing.

Here, there will probably be forests that turn to deserts.

The opposite is true. A desert can turn into a forest.

I can testify, that if it’s not the case

Than the rains that I’ve prayed for

Must not have shed upon the emerald grass.

 

I don’t want to come off pretentious.

I truly just want to bring Christianity

Rain, food…

And I can’t. You can’t.

Only Christ can.

And He will if you accept Him.

That’s a promise.

My Last Post About Never Posting

Writers are neurotic.

We all know this.

We all want to, like Jeremiah,

Shut up…

But we cannot.

How I wanted to put away the pen several thousand times.

Life would be easier if I could go work at a warehouse for a little above minimum wage.

Live in a little shanty hut like in Rio.

 

What made my writing chaff

Was that the Aliens and Sedition acts were passed by Congress.

A long time ago, like 1800’s long,

But essentially,

It precludes me from free speech.

But, I’ll challenge it.

Never knew Madison was a tyrant;

But, you know, I have to criticize

Otherwise we all might end up like Rio.

I like having options.

I like that I can make money on my writing.

I like that the guy at Panera Bread made 30 cents an hour

And became an obviously rich man.

I just think it’s a lot harder these days,

If not impossible,

To follow in those footsteps.

I’d like it to be available to everyone,

Not just a privileged few.

 

I was having a conversation in a dream

With a “King”, and he said ya’ll make 30,000

Dollars today’s money—the poorest—

If we diversified the markets.

So ya’ll could make money writing

Painting, cooking, carpentry.

I thought to myself that 30,000 dollars today’s money

Could buy me a nice life;—

And I wouldn’t have to go into substantial debt

Nor work like a dog to get it.

Rather, to eat off of your own labor

And to be free.

That sounded like Capitalism to me,

And it sounded fair.

LORD My Enemies Cannot Win

LORD, establish the word of your servant.

Satisfy him with long life

With long life satisfy him

And peace.

Let him drink from his cisterns.

Let him win his war against his enemies.

His enemies are numerous,

LORD, surely you know this.

What has he done to incur the wrath of kings?

What has he done, LORD?

Has he spoken what was folly?

LORD, surely you know.

LORD my enemies attack from the east,

And from the west,

And from the north.

Surely, you shall be my defense.

LORD, why do you forsake me?

Why am I left in their hands?

LORD, why do they continually attack your servant

And set traps for him?

To. to drink from the wells of salvation

This was my request.

To have the simple pleasures of life

And yet they seek to torture your servant

And to bring him down to the grave.

LORD, do not let him prosper against your servant Israel.

For, I am a quivering rabbit in the brush.

I simply stand, and feed upon the lilies

And drink the waters of the wells.

LORD, look at my enemies.

How they haughtily scheme against me.

LORD they shall not prosper.

Burn them with my lips

Oh LORD, take them down to Sheol.

Have kings fall in indemnity

Over the safety of your anointed.

Yet You would not,

To be glorified, kings must die

And be destroyed, and your servant

Is the bait.

They perish, and altogether are like chaff

As your servant waits upon You for an answer.

Answer me from the winds,

And bring upon them swift judgment.

Tear down their bulwarks, LORD.

For I know their thoughts against me are for mischief.

 

Yet, I have this to say:

“They shall not prosper

“For you are my rook

“You are my castle.

‘LORD, who are they to spite the anointed of God

“And to refute the Cherubim?

“The word shall go out, I shall not see your wrath

“Yet the king of the North shall fall.

“Already there is one mightier than he

“Going into his kingdom.

“Hiss for the fly

“Bring forth the mighty wasp

“Array your chariots for battle,

“LORD, strong Chariots

“For now is the time for the king to falter.

“As he has done to this prophet, let it be done doubly to him.

“For I shall not be silent,

“But shall, as the prophecy command

“Fight on behalf of the South for my own safety,

“LORD, that I can bring the little ones to Christ.

“So I can taste the riches of salvation.

“LORD, Jeremiah has prophesied on my behalf,

“My foot has stomped seventy time seven times

“In mighty praise of you

“In the presence of men who sought to seek my life.

“Let Babylon be forsaken

“And the king of fortresses stricken from this land of Moab.

“LORD, the little peoples are stirred in his kingdom soon,

“For I have heard it.

“One mightier than him in magic goes to the land

“With one even mightier than he.

“LORD, this king of the north is a sly dog

“But the ones who go into his kingdom

“Are even greater,

“Enemies too wicked for even me.

 

“LORD precious is the blood of your servant

“And precious is my life in your hand.

“Give it to me as a booty, as promised

“And give me the delight of kings

“She who is like a snow in Zalmun.

“I shall be satisfied by her,

“As the northern king falls

“Like a stubborn ass he continually assails your prophets.

“Now… he has left his kingdom without its ruler

“And seeks me, your very servant.

“Yet, great spoil awaits the one

“Who has assailed him.

“The one who is greater in wickedness than even this king.

“One who hates me with fervent hatred

“Because I was his beloved friend

“Yet would not conquer the kingdoms with him.

“LORD, let it be known…

“Great floods await that nation

“Which despairs your pophets Israel.

“LORD, assail them, divide their tongues.

“Let your precious one escape.”

Yet You would not.

So, therefore, kings indemnity shall they fall

And your servant is safe,

Yet why does he still pine?

Did he not stomp his feet like the kings

Only so many times as to beat back Babylon to even

Silly victories?

Yet You would not.

 

So here is the Word unto this prophet:

“Cease maligning the king!”

Yet I would not.

So, here is the new word to this prophet:

“By your words you will be destroyed.”

Yet these were my own.

The true word to this prophet was this:

“Well done good and faithful servant.

“Wicked were your enemies, and they have fallen by their greed.

“You have trapped them, yes, even you.

“For they had thought you forsaken.”

 

Yet, I cry out to my King, “LORD I am unworthy to even unlatch your sandal!

 

Great shall be my reward.

Wait upon the LORD, for Israel has fallen by his great iniquity

But he shall arise.

Who is this who maligns him?

Great kings of the north,

And where does Israel’s help come from?

The LORD.

Certainly, LORD you will establish this prophet’s words

Over whores and robbers.

So much more over kings who are not right

And seek to malign the covenant of God.

“Sleep, eat, be merry, for tomorrow you die”

This is the words of the kings to this prophet

For surely he has cursed me.

Yet, here is my blessing on him:

“Cease from maligning the prophets of God

“And I shall not let you fall.”

Yet he would not.

Thus, one greatly to be feared has entered into the kingdom

Will you see it?

You will not.

Explaining God to Richard Dawkins

Rick, if our universe had infinite dimensions

That universe would be a size infinitesimally smaller

Than a planc length, when compared to even the least of God’s angels.

Those Angels would be the size of a microbe compared to

The size of the Cherubim, which are the four creatures

Seated at the throne of God.

Just use your imagination with this.

Those Cherubim are the size of a rabbit

When compared to God.

 

That is the God I worship.

Now, you try to explain Him away with science.

If we hadn’t even discovered a hint of extraterrestrial life

How on earth can you possibly try to say you’ve disproved Him?

Say we meet one googleplex to the googleplexth power alien species.

What is this to a God that magnificent?

And because a prayer for lightning striking you hadn’t been answered

That’d be like a bacteria crying out to the man with a bleach bottle

Who got orders from a Giant the size of infinite, infinite universes

Who got his order from one of those angels, which that Giant

The largest of them,

Is the size of a quark compared to those angels.

But, this same God listens to me.