The Nationalist American (in the manner of Daniel Defoe)

Dollar bills, howsoever got, in America makes
Lords of pimps, gentlemen of fakes.
Honesty and decency are needless here;
‘Tis arrogance and theft that make a peer.
Innumerable city’s votes as far as we know,
From Los Angeles to New York City did flow;
To be drowned by the howls of deplorable mobs,
And thus the balatro was crowned with liberal sobs.
Devouring beyond anyone’s fill in their Party Chair,
The Gray-men slouch in the white hoods they wear,
Bombers and shooters heed the call of abuses,
As the red-hats paged through books of excuses.
Proud trailer park boys uniting and hating on loan,
Rising up with stolen valor that was not their own.
Great family values of yesterday we didn’t show,
And the future is now a poison our past did sow.

 

 

The True-Born Englishman by Daniel Dafoe Part I

Wealth, howsoever got, in England makes
Lords of mechanics, gentlemen of rakes:
Antiquity and birth are needless here;
‘Tis impudence and money makes a peer.
Innumerable City knights, we know,
From Bluecoat Hospital and Bridewell flow.
Draymen and porters fill the city Chair,
And footboys magisterial purple wear.
Fate has but very small distinction set
Betwixt the counter and the coronet.
Tarpaulin lords, pages of high renown,
Rise up by poor men’s valour, not their own.
Great families of yesterday we show,
And lords, whose parents were the Lord knows who.

My Top Novels, Poetry and Comics

Since a dozen of my friends have posted various versions of the list ten books that touched you I will share 10 books that heavily influenced me before high school. I was a precocious reader and at 10 was reading at a college level so I kind of skipped young adult books for the most part.

1. Dune by Frank Herbert (my first difficult book that I had to get a dictionary to help and practiced trying to say all the words with weird spellings)
2. Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (beginning a life long fascination with logic and deduction)
3. Foundation trilogy by Isaac Asimov (was given a giant book of Asimov classics which were my first SF stories)
4. Battlefields Beyond Tomorrow (a collection of military SF short stories which was my first anthology including Heinlein, PKD, Card, Nourse, Laumer, Saberhagen, Haldeman, Sheffield, Teddy the fish and other greats)
5. Childhood’s End by Arthur C Clarke (my first SF story with a twist at the end)
6. Magician by Raymond E Feist (my first fantasy series and I could never decide if I related more to Pug or Tomas)
7. The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester (introduced me to Alexandre Dumas besides being an amazingly powerful story of vengeance and I highly recommend the demolished man and the men who killed mohammed)
8. The Cycle of Fire by Janny Wurts (my second fantasy series that ended up twisting into a SF story and coincidentally Feist and Wurts would end up teaming up on a series years later.
9. The White Plague by Frank Herbert (my first apocalypse end of the world story which ended up being followed by the stand by Stephen King)
10. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl (My favorite kid book/series along with the really weird short stories he wrote that I found in the elementary school library hidden in a cubbyhole)

Honorable mentions that were read a little later in high school or didn’t have as much of an impact as the above: Songs of Earth and Power by Greg Bear, City by Clifford Simak, the Lensmen/Skylark by EE doc Smith, A wizard of earthsea and left hand of darkness by Ursula K Leguin, Dorsai! by Gordon R Dickson and the rest of the Childe Cycle and Wolfling also by GRD, The Glassbead Game by Herman Hesse, I am barbarian and princess of mars by Burroughs, Lest Darkness Falls by L Sprague de Camp, Peter the Great by Robert K Massie, the hero with a thousand faces, occidental mythology and a dozen other Joseph Campbell books, and A history of the Swedish People by Vilhelm Moberg.

Ah, and before I forget of course Tolkien which would be my fourth fantasy series after the white gold wielder series and followed by Belgariad.

Top five for Poetry:

1.The Childe Roland unto the Dark Tower Came by Robert Browning
2. Love Poems by Elizabeth Browning
3. Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake
4. Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas
5. Kubla Khan by Samuel Coleridge.

Honorable Mention:

Ulysses by Tennyson mainly for this part:

“I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.”

Top ten for Comic Books:
Transmetropolitan, Planetary, Hellblazer, Global Frequency, Watchmen, the secret history (come on guys and translate some more books!), sandman, annihilation, Promethea, and House of M.

Poetry

Silence

Upon Ireland’s castles
Ravens alight
Dark and unnumbered
Like little deaths
As they dreamt
On the battlefield
Above the vacant stares
Of glimpsed divinity
And the fading of memory

The Rush v2.1

The rush runs
through my veins
tingles my skin
raises my hair
empowers
flesh and mind
blending the might
that moves the world
with an ecstasy that connects
heartbeats in the dark womb
revealing
secrets and communions
primal patterns
in orgasms and words

Cauldron of Poesie

Honey tongued lips
Cause to spring forth
Images torn from fantasy
Sweet caresses
Skalding burns
Illumination
Manipulation
Conduit to truth
Catalyst of reality
Symbols poured pure

Horn of Plenty

Out in the deep
elder forests and verdant seas lie,
not yet touched by the lens of man
or that of a more alien sense.
There the knotwork loosens its grip
freeing beauty and spirit.
Upon waves of green and trails of silver,
new vistas and worlds wait for birth
while the ancient await meaning.

Kingdom of the Blind

I’m not to blind to see…
the secret wars
the white lies
that money talks
and freedom dies
just don’t talk about it
Dead souls wearing black silk ties
sell your soul for the merchandise
debts accrue so you work all your life
for the vast sums to purchase paradise
In the kingdom of the blind
I see the world wars
the great lies
that greed talks
and wisdom dies
just don’t talk about it
There is confusion at the pharmacy
about how to prescribe the cure for insanity
the new gods are sex, scandals, and drugs
appeased by the media frenzy in our sick society
In the kingdom of the blind
Take a pill and just don’t think about it
I see the secret wars
the corporate lies
that power rules
and the hero dies
In the kingdom of the blind
It’s all just props and scenery
suicide dreams and mediocrity
the one-eyed man is ostracized,
burned alive or crucified
for telling the slaves
chained to their comfortable caves
of sunlight and trees
or the sweet breeze
of royal reason.
In the kingdom
In the kingdom of the blind
Just don’t talk about it…

13th Street Espresso

On the patio outside
Sitting on wrought iron,
I share meaningful words.
Back and forth,
about the meaninglessness,
of it all.
Spilt Diet Coke pools on the sidewalk
while laughing girls run by.
These ingredients merge with the aroma,
enriched by a hundred blends,
of coffee and people.
On the table inside
Lounging on plastic vinyl,
I write meaningless words.
Left to right,
about the meaning,
of it all.

Manjusri

I have built this nest
of my ideas, thoughts,
mistakes, faults,
and even successes.
They have become brittle
and dry.
I step into the pyre
like Man herself
but where He melts
memories into ruin
experience tempering not…
I rise with the smoky wind
and cover this land of fantasy.
Forging new conjunctions,
slicing old corruptions,
feeding on novelty,
and now beyond Form or Idea.
I walk from my sunrise paradise
and carry the Garden
into the empty desert.

In Moonlight

In moonlight,
saltwater drips from the gnarled domes
of laden vessels,
heralding the hope of a new beginning.
In moonlight,
their mothers and grandmothers
assaulted the shore,
in a procession made sacred by time.
In moonlight,
wearily digging wombs
they let fall the eggs of new sons and daughters,
white creations within wet earth.
The pearls of bone open,
letting loose
the slow green children from well appointed prisons;
emerging from the sand,
they leave footprints and memories,
to be washed
into the constant mother sea.

Being

The River is,
each moment changing, transforming,
as I change and transform.
Does the river possess its water?
Do I possess myself?
I look back on the path the river,
has carved into the earth.
I see the journey I have taken.
This is not me,
just my memory,
of history.
My eyes are open,
to the future
as the river rushes on,
bubbling, twisting, turning,
I live in the experience
of beloved now.
Who knows what transmutations,
and evolutions,
are in store?

Temptation

The purely singing girl without a care,
gradually, casually, completely unaware,
slipped ever deeper into the regio.
Piercing the barriers of a twisted mirror,
passing through and entering my realm.
Oh, fair maiden step not any further,
for the heart of my kingdom
awaits in the inner ring
of stones and mushrooms,
past this grove of Ash and Rowan.
Many are the dangers in my woods.
Beware! For the satyr’s lust roams
with the life craving Kia Sidhe,
and most of all, awake not the Forest Lords,
slumbering within their ancient trees.
Soon, beautiful lady night will arrive
within this vast and mutable dreaming,
influencing my nature, my childe,
shifting all light into shadow,
filling me with a growing desire.
While the gloaming deepens,
with a titanic effort of will
my human half screams,
Leave now! Or forever you will stay,
In these lands of perfect summer.
Quickly lass, you must choose,
or your mortal life you’ll lose,
for my hunger can be held
long enough for you to go
and pass beyond my golden bough.

Along My Way

Workshop 12

(Modified villanelle)

Words and misery drive me on
While I walk alone as my soul wears thin
I listen to a world that I don’t live in
My time moves on and my heart grows dead
While words and misery drive me on
I drag my ragged and branded self home again
My life crawls by except in my dreams in bed
While I walk alone as my soul wears thin
I gamble with the hope that someday I’ll win
My love runs past me to smile another goodbye
While words and misery drive me on
I redigest my scars as I ask myself why
My loneliness kills slower than a bullet to the head
While I walk alone as my soul wears thin
My words and misery drive me
Along my way

Soulflower

Divine breath, my epiphany
As words flow and worlds grow
I’m peering into nothingness,
Formless in the void,
Spewing forth creation
From deep within;
A higher self of the self.
My melody wells from the birth of emotion,
From the seat of the soul,
Inspiring wonder as the observer of beauty,
Awakens the seed of a flowering destiny.
Now I’m set to go on the wyld,
Perched on the cliffs of forever
With poetry as my might
I head off into twilight
Reborn in the dawn,
My eyes reflect
The eternally transitory.

Immortality

(In the manner of Tadeusz Rosewitz)

A hundred thousand or more leave
everyday with barely a whimper
this world of wonder.
I choose not to fall into darkness
where the nameless torture for delight;
I will not run for the glory at the end
of that tunnel blazed in light.
I do not need or want proofreading
of my life’s enjambed lines
by some sympathetic sin editor.
I don’t plan on being a dead genius
spouting withered wisdom to future ages.
I will strive
for no ending
and no blade
flaming or not
and no king
devil or not
shall stay my hand
from reaching up to pluck
a second bite.

World of Stone

I don’t know where I’m goin’,
I don’t know where I’ve been.
I don’t know in this world of stone
If I’m goin’ to still be all alone…
Within this field made of bones,
Where I’m crowned and enthroned.
I don’t know where you’re goin’,
I don’t know where you’ve been.
I don’t know in this world I’ve shown
If you were to be made mine I’d atone…
Dig up my soul from a cairn of stones,
Where I am lain frozen and entombed.

Version 2 of “Charcoal”

Blank sheets
stare accusingly
begging for change
there’s no purpose
no passion
No one’s home
Wake up!
Stand up!
as I drown
Where is that new wind?
my muse stillborn
silent, vacant
I’m….
buried, burnt
black and gray
Wake up!
Stand up!
as I drown
Where is that old brilliance?
my dawn eclipsed
silenced, fallen
I’m….Charcoal…
buried, burnt
black and gray
As I lie down
there are no stars
my dreams flee
strings sing out of tune
pennies all spent
sunlight dressed in red
twilight in dusk
I’m…Hollow…
hollow, hollow
Why?…..

Perception v2.0

Penetrate all barriers
bypass the limitations
those filters and blinders
imposed by biology, culture
and circumstance
Become the beast
welcome the saint
extremes wrapped in fragile meat
Preserve the primitive
and exalt reason
sing into the sea of illusion
Naked

untitled

I, son of the tree and brilliant glory
stride my hidden ways edged in shadow
listen to glimpses from other oceans
delve deeper into the hazelnut’s dream