A work in progress, but I have a few bits and pieces.
With Aurora's tear upon the 'morrow,
Kiss the leaves of grass so narrow,
I tell a tale from Muses borrowed
A tale of woe and beautiful sorrow.
For though she was a summer's breeze,
A glistening peach from greener trees,
A sweeter honey from the bees,
When August ends at last she leaves.
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Figured I'd try a more structured, english lyric type piece. This is mostly about a recurring dream I have of a man who is separated from his love and looks for her till the day he dies. I had meant to add more, and I think I will if it is generally felt it could be longer.
I must go walk the wood so wild,
And wander here and there,
In dread and deadly fare,
For where I am trusted, I am beguiled,
And all for fare of one.
Thus I am banished from my bliss,
By craft and false pretense,
Faultless and without offense,
And of return no certainty is,
And all for fare of one.
I will wander Earth forever,
Though so old and gray,
So short of day,
Forget her will I never,
And all for the love of one.
I search in longing as I can,
But here I die,
And here I lie,
The dying of a wandering man,
And all for the love of one.
Forget me not. First two stanzas aren't even mine. I just translated them from a middle-english piece.
Not actually my favorite piece.
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Mankind is want of love in all things. The wayward hearts of men are all destined to the same fate. Joy proceeds sorrow, and wherever there is joy, there is a greater sorrow waiting in the shadows to take it's place. Yet were it not for this small moment of joy; joy which brings hope and relief to all our lives, we would drown in a sea of tears. The joy gives us hope that one day the dreams of man can be completed, and happily ever after will follow. The dreams of a man is what separates him from the rest of the world, for they are what make him happy, and as each person, beings its owned sentient being raised in a different atmosphere, even people with 99% matching genes will not have the same vision of what happiness is. The problem that results is because the man is often very wrong about what will, and what will not make him happy, thus he chases after many such fantasies which can never be fulfilled. However it is not wrong that man should do so, for what does man want but his happiness? If he has given up the hope that his happiness will come, then why does he live? It is because happiness is the goal, and life is the means to this end, that man must forever pursue his dream. Of course sacrifices must be made. Obligations, laws, morality, responsibilities, all these can be sacrificed if a man thinks it will bring such bliss. This is an apparently wide-held belief, as we can tell by looking through the history of mankind: Caesar, Alexander, Blackbeard, Hitler, Nero, all became slaves to their dream. It is selfish, yes, but such tendencies are our nature. Were we not selfish beings, man might never have evolved past the stage of cavemen.
In conclusion, man cannot be faulted for chasing a dream out of reach, for it is this dream-chasing that motivates man to get up in the morning, or afternoon as the case may be, and while a man may sacrifice much in pursuit of his dream, these sacrifices are necessary to the progress of evolution. If you think back, all of man's inventions were built so he could sell something or make money thus bringing him closer to what he wants. Mankind is not very good at guessing what will make him happy, however, if he does not try, how will he ever know?
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What is this?
Whisper! Whisper! Hush! My child!
He can hear us! Shh! Hush! Be quiet!
Who's there?
Nothing, nothing! The wind, The wind!
They don't love you! No NO! They HATE YOU!
Oh god my head! Oh God my head!
It hurts it hurts!
No! Go away! Please go away...please...GET OUT! GET OUT!
They fear you! Jealousy! They want your soul!
Get OUT! NO! PLEASE! STay BACK!
What do you want?
They come! They come!
Who? Who comes? Who's There?!
The riders...
The...
Ri...
What is this? What is this?
This...
is....
MAdnesss.....
No! No! I'm not!
Mad! No! Stay away! I beg of you!
Monster! Horrible! See what you've done?
Monster! Hideous!
It's freezing...Why is it freezing?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
What are you? Who's there? Why won't you tell me?!
HAHAHAHA!
NO! Stop LAUGHING! STOP LAUGHING AT ME!
OH GOD! OH GOD! GET OUT! GET OUT!!
AHHHH! MY HEAD! It's bleeding...
NO! MY Eyes! Come back!
Give it back to me!
NO! HSSSSS!
Where am I?
Bleeding...
AHHHHHHH!!!! HELP ME!!! HELP ME!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!
Yes...exactly.....for the love of God...
Terrible! Monster! Hideous! INSANE! MAD!
NO! NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!
I can't see, is it tears or blood?
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
THE END THE END!
WHAT IS THIS!!!! WHAT IS THIS?!?!??!?
(serpent) Thissssssss....
(deep voice) is....
(child) Madness....
(laughter) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
(sobbing)
Amen.
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For some reason beyond all my comprehension, Stillpoint magazine has chosen not to publish any of my works. So as of late my poetry still remains unpublished. Not counting poetry.com which I think is a scam. I will soon submit some of my works to The Georgia Review. But I'm not terribly confidant they'll publish me either.
So here's how we're going to make a list of who and who didn't publish me.
Still Pending:
1. The Georgia Review
Declined to publish:
1. Stillpoint Magazine
Agreed to Publish:
1. Poetry.com (Though I think this is a scam, the published my rose bush poem)
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For Historical purposes, I've decided to write down my opinion on the War in Iraq, which has stretched from 2003 until who-knows-when. It's the beggining of 2007 now. I am profoundly against war for the most part, however, this war seems to work toward the goal of mine of proving that the government of the United States is full of war-pigs who only care about making money off selling war equipment. If the government's fascist tendencies are proven to the world by war after war, then maybe people will finally realize that for the most part, government is unneccessary. If more war accomplishes this goal, then I encourage the government by all means to continue fighting. Not only will this means justify the ends, but it will also eliminate a large amount of the muslim fascists who are not interested at all in saving our souls, but merely want to kill us because we are different from them. These fascist muslims must not realize that the far left has the same guerilla skills as the far right, but the left is usually chooses to be less violent in accomplishing its goals.
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If we grant that the story of Adam and Eve is true, were we better off then being ignorant of good and evil and living in Eden, or are we better off now that we know the difference between the two and can reason and think freely. Currently we have to feed ourselves, whereas in Eden all was provided for us. The essential question that it boils down to is this. Is the ability to reason and have free will worth the cost of paradise? I wonder.
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On the parade of life there are crying clowns,
laughing and sighing and the ups and downs,
and headless monks of virtue true,
watching the sky turn its dieing hue.
And the unicorn sits on a float so tall,
Crying "Rejoice, Rejoice, for Babylon's fall"
While the married frog sits and grumbles aloud
Wishing all the while he had married the toad.
The Jester was furious to see the parade,
and in his tirade cried "At once, stop this charade"
"Animals should never ever parade and sing,
and certainly a unicorn should never be king,
I say that Achilles the King ought to be,
for it is the fall of TROY we celebrate you see.
When the Jester had finished,
an arguement ensued
and the Tomcat spoke up,
"I don't mean to be rude,
But I thought we paraded for the fall of Great Babylon,
Whose hanging gardens you see lie in ruins anon"
"Nay" croaked the Tortoise,
"Tis for Jericho's great city wall
Which Joshua brought down in the city's great fall."
When a wise owl stood up and cleared his great throat
"Fools" said he with a laugh and a boast
"To what means and what ends does this arguement ensue?
I see from your open jaws that you havent a clue,
What city has fallen shouldnt matter to thee,
Why not celebrate for pure revelrie?
With this you'll all be a much happier lot,
Now open your ears and see what you ought"
On this all the animals happily agreed,
and went on with the parade, happier and free.
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A kite flies high in the starry sky
and wonders what is his path
Having broken my string
there is naught but where wills the wind
and so it is I
It's will is mine
I care not but to gaze upon the night sky,
yea to fall upon the soft grass and dream,
and the moon whispers,
Goodnight, my prince, you have done well
Lay thy head upon the grass and give in to the fading blackness
I feel a warm light upon my face
and i pass from consciousness
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Yea have we not thoughts in our minds
When the raging inferno rises up to meet us,
The air keeps running like a tattered dog on a broken swing.
Hear me now o foes of my solemnity,
I seek not the judgement, but would forever pay the tithes to the Almighty.
The chill of ice water on my face.
Alex knows it true, you cannot force good, nea nor force evil, as it wills so.
The inferno rises
The inferno rises
In the screaming forest of thorns do I lay, contemplating the sadness manifest.
For what reason and purpose would one take their own life.
To end the suffering, an ends to gain only more.
I speak to the faces in the flowers, but they can only sob their crimson tears.
The inferno rises
The inferno rises
To rise up and fall, to surrender all, as you may recall, this paradise
Lucifer in chains knows no regret
His choice was to serve no master
and so it is done.
The inferno rises
The inferno rises
In limbo lie the holy unbaptized,
wandering for eternity, without hope, without suffering
naught but regret, for their virtues fell deaf.
In the second, third, fourth, and fifth
the deadly sinners lie steeped in irony
For what was a blissful passer of time,
now gains them time eternal.
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O vicious night, what dark secrets dost thou conceal?
The fireflies delight in the life less real.
What murderous hands and treacherous fiends lurk within,
With gnashing teeth and dreadful sin.
Hyperion be dead this vicious night,
No glimmer of hope perceives mine sight.
The blackest moon sleeps gently in her shell,
O cruelest deception, O darkest hell.
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Tuesday morning, I hate it.
It's 6 am, and the sun will not pierce through
My eyes shun the light of the coming dawn,
and I turn to stone.
My head is weighted down by great stones on strings,
Fears of a thousand sleepless nights and a thousand mad dreams.
The stones are given life, dire and dreadful.
They rake at my sanity with ripping terrible claws.
This is the hour of death and damnation.
In the steam from my black Columbian,
I become horrified to discover that within I do see the faces of the damned.
Twisted and screaming in unbearable agony in the bottom of that sulphurous pit from which there is no escape.
Let us hope this be not a harbinger of unholy things to come.
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A neon butterfly, perched atop the moon,
Cheshire smiles await him on his journey,
A grassy field, a thousand other spots of neon,
Glowing bright and green in the full moon light,
A downward spiral to tip upon a blade,
and drink the new morning dew yet to fade,
He hears a distant song in the night,
and the butterflies dance and hum to its tune,
He is amazed, a girl twirls and spins in the moonlight,
And in garrisoned awe, he perches upon her nose and sleeps,
And the girl smiles sweetly, as the butterfly dreams.
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"Meet me at the crossroads tonite my brother,
Come swiftly alone and with no foolish other,
For Death grins this night of the sky's full wheel,
A pact must we make, and in our blood seal."
"Whisper in my ear what thou desirest most,
Be it money, or power, or starry-eyed host,
I'll give it all to you for but a small fee,
In later years will I come to collect it from thee."
"All thou needest do is sign upon the line,
And on the morrow, thy desire willst thou find
But be happy quick, and your desire employ,
For no deal with the devil ever ended in joy."
"A bet you say? With the devil himself?
Then gamble we shall, your soul for my wealth.
A contest of ryhmes, our skills for to show,
In gentle, sweet words, like a river in flow"
"I give you three days from this hour to write,
Then I'll meet you back here at the crossroads at night.
I will ride back to hell, to put you at shame
This bet I shall win, your soul will I claim."
"Three nights have passed, and we are returned,
The contract to honor, your soul for to burn,
As tradition goes, It is I shall be first,
Prepare yourself brother, for your soul is cursed."
The Devil read first and when he was done,
The morning came hither, and up rose the sun.
The Devil laughed, and then finished his turn,
"Your contract I claim, your soul will I burn."
"Wait!" Cried the challenger, "By our merciful Lord,
Your pride is your downfall, your sin is my sword,
My turn shall I have so hearest me well,
Your wealth will I win, and you back to hell"
The boy sang a rhyme so sad and so sweet,
That the devil himself, could not help but weep.
It shone like a ruby from his all-gifted tongue,
The Devil sat weeping, the challenger had won.
The Devil cried "Mercy! The challenge hast thou won."
"I offer you my gold which doth glitter in the sun
Thou hast proven thyself a better breed,
In loss no shame, to you I do concede"
"Come back again Devil, if you ever care to try,
For never was there any man as quick-witted as I.
I'll take this gold, and I'll find myself a bride,
For your sin is now mine and the clever fool's pride.
Now go back to hell and pay for your sin,
For I shall be ready if thou ever come again"
With that the devil left with courtesy in kind
A terrible plot of revenge, in his devilish mind.
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A poem would not do justice,
And an ode would only fall short,
For no winged words can describe thee,
1000 poets writing for 1000 years,
Would only know the anguish of failure,
For their words are but burning leaves.
You, Beloved.
You are called the dawn-child,
Bringer of Morn.
Under the watchful eye of Venus,
You stretch out tiny hands,
Rosy with crushed berries,
To paint the sky anew.
Dragging behind you little Helios,
Running playfully after Selene,
Your pale-faced sister.
Smiles and daffodils are all the world,
For Immortal children playing in the heavens,
And earth is their playground,
For childsplay is all they know.
Older now, your flame-colored hair is mad-ecstasy,
And ignites hearts of both men and gods,
But leaves them always as smoldering ash.
Instead you still fell in love with the noisy cricket,
Who chirps nonsense in your sister's ears at night.
You have no tedium in your endless cycle,
Only an endless playground of starry sky.
If you come again tomorrow sweet Aurora,
Know you were loved by this mortal,
And your beauty inspired these tender nothings,
Which I whisper now to your ear,
Like leaves in the gentle breeze.
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A Ballad of tragic love. I'll add more to it later you you guys think it could be longer and more effective in being so.
"Though they go mad, they shall be sane,
Though they sink beneath the sea, they shall rise again,
Though lovers be lost, love shall not, and Death shall have no dominion" -Dylan Thomas
Canto I
The House of Death longs always for company,
Be they rich or poor, in ruin or prosperity,
But that which Death loves best of all to take,
Is love and lovers their hearts for to break.
For Death is proud, and no skill to take the old,
He brags most of all for the young and the bold,
Upon wide Hellespont in two cities on the shore,
Is a tale of two lovers, and the tragedy of war.
Canto II
Abydus and Sestus were fighting great battles,
For one was the other the river in strattle,
In one lay a priestess of the goddess of love,
In the other a child of the gods up above.
In the tallest tower did she place her love's light,
So her lover swims safe through the river at night,
Each night did Leander swim to her side,
Each night still hoping to make her his bride.
But on the dark night they did choose to elope,
Came wild tempest to murder their hope,
It's powerful winds had blown out the flame,
And lovely Leander the river did claim.
When Hero saw her love washed up on the shore,
Her heart was shattered with no faith to restore,
She leapt from the tower to be with her love,
and fell to her death with the grace of a dove.
And Death was joyful having stolen young love,
Till he gazed at the heavens and the bodies above,
For there he saw the lovers shining in the sky
Together in the stars where love never dies.
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Luna negra, Luna mia,
differente que yo sabia
Turning always through the night,
De Luna mia, my guiding light
Shine forth blessings 'pon my face,
O brilliant lamp of Artemis' grace
The hearts of all thou dost seduce,
O que hermosa, la palida luz
Of Graces, nymphs and goddesses' born,
La noche negra, thy face of scorn
With wicked smile and brilliant grin,
You hide your face from mortal sin
You know not sweet mercy as was before,
Only treacherous Envy, and nothing more.
Goodnight sweet lucidity, I kiss thee adieu,
For never again willt thou light grace my view
O Luna negra, Luna mia,
tan differente que yo sabia.
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O happy Garden, O my righteous dame,
Tell me true from whenst thou came,
Born thou must be from Aphrodite's tears,
Thou who makest men weak throughout the years,
From what demon's servitude dost thou fair?
Who can shred men's souls with vicious-cruel glare,
Or send him to heaven with radiant smile,
O please come bless the daisies a while,
So I can breathe in the dew from diamond night sky,
That thy beautiful Eden may never die,
I ask but to play in your wonderful garden,
Where no hearts doth break nor feet do harden,
Thy garden most green where the butterflies dance,
A burden is lifted and my soul entranced,
Let our children play forever in the green valley below,
Where the sun and the moon and the stars doth go,
Where we laugh death away and drink honey's delight,
In your blessed care here in your garden of light.
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Guide me this night o vigilant Mars
That I may sit and play amongst the stars
So bright this night o shield of Apollo,
That tarry I not and rather follow,
That sweet whispered song upon the breeze,
Where dark space begins and the earth doth cease,
No gentle green garden canst thou maintain,
But a single small flower and her sweet refrain.
Thy sweet little song carried by starbreeze this night,
Sweet ambrosia thy nectar the fierce gods delight,
So sad and so sweet is thy tiny starbred tune,
But why art thou sad o my flower on the moon?
Be there no kind face to while away the hours?
No sweet whispered words in the ears of moonflowers?
O break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And sing me no more thy sad gentle sound,
For no gardener of moonflowers ever shall I be,
For I cannot help weep for thy song and for thee,
So let the white-winged carry you o're dark sea and sky,
And sing to them your song which ends in 'goodbye',
For I cannot weep forever o moonflower mine,
And someday heaven's grace upon thee will shine,
So keep watch on the stars o moonflower free,
I'll be that star yonder to watch over thee,
For the stars have ears and are always around,
To listen to thee and thy sad starbred sound,
Vigilant they stand in their frozen eternity,
Kiss them goodnight with thy moonflower melody.
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My beloved is a fiery rose bush,
A thousand stories high at least,
Covered in flames and spiny thorns,
Beautiful against the cold blue midnight.
Ascend I must, to the heavens high,
Through a stormy sea of flames and thorns,
Higher and higher must I climb,
Tearing flesh and limb each step,
and singing close the bloody wound each time,
with the searing fires of Lucifer.
O sweet bloody ecstasy,
Trickle down my hand to oblivion below,
Show proof to all the almighty gods and angels,
What a mere mortal may suffer,
To reach the top of a white rose bush,
All shredded flesh and weary soul,
That he may at last kiss the dew
From the sweet soft petals
of a white rose bush, burning in the night.
Ecstasy, Bloody Ecstasy, thou art mine at last.
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