Almost the End of September

Let me begin October with an awareness
Of the vile time and disaster we endured
Let this be the moment we remember
With clarity and generosity
When we used to be happy,
When we used to be sober
Existence alone was enough
Simply being was our dream
Now as we wonder quietly, without a sound
Where went everything we loved
Where did our future go
Now that the present is crumbling
Our hopes, our happiness, our sleep
Now I am fat, tired, and wondering
When is Death going to come 'round
Longing only for my kiss?

A crazy dream of fire

Hard to sleep from being over tired
And thinking about this thing we share
Breath, the oxygen passes from lung to lung
Hope, no being can exist long without it
Love, for we are born longing
And dreams of being desired
By every potential partner of a pair
We fall and are no longer young
Even when our path is undoubted
Through life we are crawling
Sorrow and fear wearing us down
When we ought to be burning with fire
Because this world is our only sacred ground

“Bring me my bow of burning gold
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear— o'clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire” 
― William Blake

The End of Days Beckons

While species die off, by human hands
I watch from a distance, mute, confused
Fools who think they wisely understand
Our actions will lead the planet to doom
The world surrounding me still goes on
The planet spins, and yet it has suffered
My life moves forward towards oblivion
As ancient ways pass like saddened lovers
And the new path forward is one of rage
Our flesh is tormented, our ways turned dust
Transfixed by sorrow, and passing of days
There's only hope, and if we are able, trust

When Evil Spoke

Image copyright German archive
Used in Fair use manner

A tide had turned, and beckoned an end result
It changed from a conflict that had once promise
To one without hope for victory
The only answer would be a duel to death
The finality would answer the question of
What was Germany's place in the world
The bad news could no longer be ignored
Morale is of the highest importance

Choosing to give the speech on 18 February 1943
Propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels spoke:

To overcome fate we must strengthen our belief
So never believe the enemy, naysayers and Jews
They have the hatred of Germany at heart
Unlike the cadre of Germany's leaders
Those who serve far afield and bravely
The Fatherland deserves all of her heroes
Surrounded by attacks that never cease
Enemy planes overhead using their bombs
An enemy empire ships upon the sea
As bestial Bolshevik armies approach
The homeland troops seem in retreat
Still this nation must defend herself
And stave off the hungry wolves of defeat
Are you prepared to give all?
You must give everything
The cause requires an effort complete
From homeland to the battle field
From the Atlantic we threaten the enemy
We defend our waterways  and our people
From the Baltic Sea to the North Sea
From worker to soldier, from farmers to lawyers
Our great people have paid the price
Your leaders have paid with their lives
Do you not see? 
We have no choice but to fight!
So now, faced with truth
Do you promise to fight?
Germany has been threatened
By foes, inside and outside her border
By fear and deceit, the enemies plan
Cowardly foes strangle at a distance
This land has been attacked before
It will live or die in war, there is no other way
This is Germany, so let none deny our place
We desire and deserve a place upon the world's stage

We have staked our claim
Our will is steel, our blood is iron
Born to fight fresh from the womb
The world will fear to speak our name
The world will fear us should we succeed
Should we fail no German should feel shame
Germany is the pariah, hated for her brilliance
Hated for her excellence, yes we are hated.
We have prepared for the future
We will fight for that
If the world is our enemy
Then the entire world should prepare for her doom

(Disclaimer: This is a fictional work aimed at evoking a sound and mood, not one of personal affiliation or ideals. I am, however, fascinated by the machinery of the Third Reich, and have had a life long curiosity for who were those figures who made it work. This is a poetic interpretation of a speech that the propaganda Minister of Nazi Germany gave.  The reason for it is not being a fan of the man, but, knowing that it was a moment of human history that was singular... It aimed at blaming others, and arousing a response to destroy both the enemies, and internal "enemies of the state" to a war that might end all of humanity.)

Image is copyright German archive and is used in the fair use copyright allowance

Find the original text of the speech

Death From the Killing Skies

In war when slaughter occurs nobody should be surprised
As lives of the innocent are stolen, destroyed and moved

But in the 1930s death now came out of the killing skies

Human motives are bent askew, evil, selfish, war is proof
In an artist's eye, capturing the terror, of a burning village
Feelings well up, comes out in furor, as captured in image
Presented here the loss of hope, destruction by an iron hand
Toward all, not just those taking a side in an angry land

Dedicated to my friend Mada Jurado, a distinctly noble, beautiful soul from Spain

He Lays in Avalon, waiting

We all share the great dream of a perfect king
Born with dragon's blood, filled with courage
To find a sword, to build an army, unify Albion
His knights were daring, ready to die, and flourished
Performing quests, achieving deeds never ending
To find the grail, to restore his soul
They never would relent, and knew the risk
None strayed or paled from the task
He was the spirit of the island, the champion
When he died, he was taken
From a world now forsaken
Now he waits upon Avalon to awaken
While his wounds mend
Deep in his sleep, dreaming of rebirth

“Yet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of our Lord Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross.”  Thomas Malory

A Message from the Management.

This poem has been removed by request by the author.

Apparently it was too personal and not even that good.

Sorry for the crisis, you needn't worry or bother.

Meant to be easier but it can be misunderstood.

Forgive us please, we'll try harder next time to be clever.

Love is such a hard thing to interpret or to even have.

So the next poem written about that will have to be better.

We'll punish the author, he'll be condemned or damned.

Thank you for your time and most kind consideration.

It was about time we finally took a stand.

Watching Not Doing

I spent my life without love
Learned I'd not earned my way
I was longing for another's touch
But I had been lost in the haze
Being crazed with loneliness
Living a life wearing a mask
My existence a pretense
Rather than the reality that lasts
I've fallen from view
Despite the depths of truth
Watching others know
I'd mistaken love for lust
And I can't escape my zoo
Imprisoned in a cage
Lost in the rage
Of never having enough
Everything I touch turned dust
Everything I loved lost
From here to eternity's gate

Knights of the Air

Mare nostrum, their lake
The Mediterranean sea
Rather than be worried by its size
They saw it as a possession
And never worried over control
They used their ships aggressively
And above the blue there they waited
The knights of the Regia Aeronautica
Whatever the enemy
They served the empire well
Even with obsolete machines
Even with poor leadership
And false dreams of conquest
The pilots and aircrews all fought
Without respect to the enemy
Without concern for futility
And more than once
They rose above the limits imposed
And struck violently
Like lightning falling from the sky

That tightrope we both walk

People had seen your beauty but you wanted more
You cut up your photos to avoid idolatry by the eye
You knew the real, and the bitter struggle to know
Then you then left, by taking the permanent door
Refusing to live forever, refusing to live the lies
Those sleeping pills were an answer to the throes
You allowed me to know joy, and find my kin
You're gone, now, but I still search the horizon
I'll never find you again, I was made an orphan
You walked a tightrope, the very same as I walk
I'd give everything I own for a chance to talk
Cruelly denied by your act, it stole you from me
As you linger in the gray, alive in my dreams
I wish you were still here, that we could speak
But there is nothing left, but ghosts that haunt
And the opportunities and ideas that taunt
Making me know that I am again alone

A Knight in Winter

Any great knight stands ready 

To face any enemy, to fight every battle

But his foe in winter isn't human

He is encased in steel, the season is brutal
For whatever the depths of cold
The wind pours through

And chills the warrior to the bone
If there is precipitation falling

The snow and sleet pelt him
The steel holds the temperature
Of all the weather surrounding

But the defenders of the land 

Have to face whichever threat 

That makes itself known

The cold is ready to take its toll

But has no control

For the depths of any Knight's soul
Is to serve his lord
And he'll do so

Until he dies

“The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,
Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide,
Earth a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true,
And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.”

Emily Dickinson

872 Desperate Days

From September 1941 to January 1944 the city of Leningrad was being strangled

By a noose created by the Lord and Knights of their leader's Crooked Black Cross

It was a desperate battle, lives lost or thrown away, defense perimeters untangled

While Russia had defeated France and others with winter, not with this hard frost

Surrounded without food, without hope, with few defenders, the city screamed

From above dive bomber bombs, shells of artillery strikes, sea bombardment

In winter caravans crossing frozen lakes offered a kind of relief

By summer starving people harvested leather, grew gardens

But the end came late, after millions had starved, died

The city finally breathed, when defenders broke the circle

Almost 900 days they were attacked, but they survived

This was THEIR finest hour, a visit to Hell as a rehearsal

For Further Reading

Abandoned now

The deserts stand where cities reigned
Before the land stopped getting rain
Here were the high towers of culture
Ruined by war, abandoned by fate
We've lost our way, fulfilled by rage
We have no hope, no civilization
Nature has died, we have no future

The Ravens In the Tower

The land is watched over
By our eternal companions
Taking residence in the towers
Watching for invasions or revolution
Guarding the people, the lineage, the passions
For they are worthy, bonding creatures of grace
We are fortunate for them, for they are very loyal
Even as we live common lives, nobility we've embraced

A Bastard Child, Given a Name

Rape stole my legitimacy
DNA was hidden away
And I was now a bastard
A child without a name
My path forward unknown
My being smudged by shame
I knew to bear my weapon
For my life was a war to wage
I needed to establish my honor
And who I am now
Is who I became
Was a knight alone
Without a lord
I was tested
I survived
And then message came
The bearer of my DNA
Called for reunion
My castle keep known
I was welcomed home
I was given back my name

Foolish Joy

My child was to teach me
What it was like to have joy
My own childhood different
He was a reminder of memory
What it should be like as young boy
I deeply mixed happiness and resentment
In the present I am grateful to have learned
What my being should have experienced
Trapped in memories, always grieving
However mature or not as a child
My mood was always serious
In the present I've decided
That I am ready finally to be a fool

Advice

I don't need their advice
I don't need their views
I don't need their understanding
I sure don't need what they think is true
All I want is to love who I love
And in return be loved enough
What I really need is you
And nothing more
Just your touch
Your heart
And home

Broken by another hand

Shattered reflections
Destroyed memories
My life a deception
The joys ephemeral
The sorrow an elegy
No possible corrections
Life's joys flee

Emotions In Hell

There is a new order rising from our ashes
Bitterness and fear live and make us insane
There is no law and there is no order
In the new order there's only shame
Remember to trust only feelings
Be unthinking and choose selfishly
Punishment awaits as the moments go by
With only torment and retreat to fear
Pretense, relentless, regret and bitterness
All the self indulgent grieving
From the horrors and the knowledge
That nothing we do can stop the pain

“We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.” ― Oscar Wilde 
“Maybe this world is another planet’s hell.” ― Aldous Huxley
“Hell is—other people!” ― Jean-Paul Sartre

Shyness

She wanted his attention it was true
But he couldn't even look in her eyes
She thought him intriguing
He knew whatever he did
It would be misconstrued
And thought he'd burst into flame
If she ever asked him a question
For the answer would burn like cancer
He thought looking angry or tough
Would let him escape her gaze
But he didn't actually want that result
He wanted everything she did
But he was too shy to know what to do
And never did, letting shyness have victory
Over his need for touch
Over his need for love
For which there never is enough
His shyness was misery
He might seem a mystery
He was just shy, and had no answer
For the questions she never asked

“I was quiet, but I was not blind.” 
― Jane Austen

My Last Gasp

Pulled beneath by the weight
Of the burden of my being
Struggling to stay afloat
Life will soon be leaving

Never Give In

Never give in to the enemy anger 
For it will place you in a cage 
It will starve you like a dog
Or feed your hurt like a cancer 
It grows and grows, breaking you 
Makes your life feel cursed 
Never give in, never surrender 
Your flesh will pay for all of your rage 
You'll never escape the cost 
Of becoming the stain 
The cost goes unpaid by anyone but you  

“...We are threatened with suffering from three directions: from our body,  which is doomed to decay..., from the external world which may rage against us with overwhelming and merciless force of destruction, and finally from our relations with other men... This last source is perhaps more painful to use than any other.”  Sigmund Freud

faded photograph

Opening a box of memories I pick up a photograph
Faded, black and white with writing I can't make out
But it makes me think of things to say
I never regret the things I do
This time's an exception
I regret meeting you on that auspicious day
You stole from me all I could be
When you told me what to believe
And proved I was a fool
Years later it still stings
You cruelly made me lame
Wounded me permanently
I was an idiot to keep dreaming
While you were using me
To steal my hope my future, my love
You broke every rule
Leaving me without a heart only scars
Never enough love, acting tough but I am a child
Cringing from the strike, my heart once was wild
Oh how you tamed me and shamed me
And gave back my name when I was finally emptied

“People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.”  Fyodor Dostoyevsky

That place

I lived in the shadows of death
Watching so many I love fall
Knowing that it is inevitable
Doesn't help
The sorrow breeds great doubt
So much pain, can't draw breath
Living in a collective of screams
Can't muster the strength to break out
Broken by the choices
Hearing constant voices
Screaming in my ear while I hear hate
In every shout
Watching them die, one by one by one
As the world collects the toll
I have nothing to give and empty is my soul

Heal Me

Breathe in, release
Then close your eyes
Let your dreams begin
And then just believe
This world is a disguise
For the disaster within
Anxiety grows like fever
And existence seems a lie
Wounded the decay begins
Release the tightly held hurt
Breath in, let go of attachments
No promise of contentment
But in time
There will be healing
Inside
Even with tears, cry
Letting it flow over you
Decide
This world is passing
Give up the bitterness
Let the mind and heart be clear
Because we have today
But the soul lives forever
Better to suffer here
Than to bring it with me
There

Devenere locos laetos et amoena vireta
Fortunatonun nemorum, sedesque beatas.

They came to a land of joy, the green pleasances and happy seats of the Blissful Groves.
Virgil

Fruit of our Labors

So tired from the journey, we confuse truth and lie
We've created a system of profit and of thought
Ringing with a belief that echoes since earliest times
Whatever we do, labor brings reward, labor is good
Whether wearing Capitalist Green or Communist Red
This commodified world is the kind we've wrought
Every single thing can be bought, it all has a price
Still one labors as a sort of evidence, or proof
That we must all work for our day's bread
What is the quest reward that we have sought
Is it the baubles of pleasure, or treasures
What is it that makes us foolishly decide
To pursue our time on earth until we are dead
In constant labor, fallen dreams, unfulfilled lives

“It is labor alone that is productive: it creates wealth 
and therewith lays the outward foundations for the 
inward flowering of man.”  Ludwig von Mises

“The evil of the present system is therefore not that the 
“surplus-value” of production goes to the capitalist, as 
Rodbertus and Marx said, thus narrowing the Socialist 
conception and the general view of the capitalist system; 
the surplus-value itself is but a consequence of deeper 
causes. The evil lies in the possibility of a surplus-value 
existing, instead of a simple surplus not consumed by
 each generation”  Peter Kropotkin

A Fire Approaches

You can't fight a fire that the people don't believe exists
For the mindset of the lost leads to a desire to resist
You can cry alarm, you can send a warning, to no avail
No matter how destructive the fire, your efforts fail
For oncoming disaster must be tasted, felt, perceived
Before a message being sent can be properly received

Island of Golden Dawn

Mist falls overnight in sheets of uniform white
So that in the morning it covers the ground
Sacred lands are given soft silken blankets
For the island of Avalon is truly golden
Avalon displays proof of the creator's delight
There is only silence, not a single sound
Life upon the island is serene, thankful
Children born upon the island are the chosen
There is only glorious joy here
As the Fae give care and love
To every single child
Raising them to adulthood
In love, glory and beauty

Hic jacet sepultus inclitus rex Arturius in insula Avalonia. 
"Here lies entombed the renowned king Arthur in the island of Avalon."

Absence

I've entered into a wasteland
Where all my desires and fears
Collide, making them loudly ring
A desert has far more sustenance
With a character to make a stand
All I have at hand are bitter tears
And a funeral song to sing
But I've practiced abstinence
Knowing it will serve me well
In this, my self-made Hell
I am a stain, a pestilence
Perhaps even a plague
And the world is better off
By my absence

Dichotomy

Sunlight through thick branches
Brings light to a darkened scene
Reflected sunlight can burn a hole
So tell me what are the chances
Of finding love, a perfect dream
But by finding it, you lose your soul

Free Mordechai Vanunu

Those in power lie
We can't give our trust
Politicians make choices
To stifle honest voices
Protests are sounds to hear
Take a life and turn it to dust
Mordechai Vanunu was proof
That choosing the moral path
Wasn't one that was easy to choose
He chose to tell the world a secret
Making the state of Israel regret
Israel's secret was that they had nukes
To keep it hidden would have been easy
This would have been a gateway to doom
To make it known, was a way forward
Doing so allowed an open debate
Knowing the weapons existed meant
No one in the region could stumble upon a war
Expecting to defeat Israel, or that it would fall
Before her nuclear weapons would be used
The end of life on earth triggered the fear
He took the path that could allow peace
And has been punished for that
For many many years

Visit MORDECHAI VANUNU

(Images are taken from copyrighted sources, and are asserted as one time use only Fair use usage.)

Fight

The ministry of information
Calls for your destruction
Listening in to your calls
They seek your castration
And of your obstruction
They seek your fall
They need you to be complicit
But it isn't there need that matters
You have a choice to say no
You must have a voice and refuse
Let them know
You do not believe
You will not serve them
There is nothing they can do
That is worth more important
Nothing more sacred
Than your sovereign being