the sieve and the sand

Ashamed you ought be! Asking any self respecting

Bard to fulfill an assignment such as this merits no other response! How may

Creativity be truly depicted when forced, shoved if you will, into a set of rules?

Do you lack the respect deserved of the authors of great arrangements of words into towering

Edifices of genius into the un-

Fathomable minds of dreaming mortal men living eternally through ageless legacy? Of

Grievances there are many for you, not your ten fingers, nor your toes may count them.

Heave your penitence on your bib, like a child, and ask to be cleaned of it!

If only you could see the true beauty of each jewel of anti-prose. No

Jello composition of assortments of letters can be

Known as creativity. If you want ingenuity, you need words of meaning, depth.

Laughter is my rage for such an insult, and how I laugh and scream and hoot and howl!

May creativity be inspired in your swirling pool of molded thoughts and birds fly from

Newly made nests of these twigs to create a fine idea, a diamond

Out of coal. I ask you this – Do you feel some

Pleasure in this deviously crafted injustice you bring upon me?

Quite some nerve you possess to inquire of belittling the powerful spirit I do possess.

Reveal a truly astonishing request for each student to compose a piece and

Suspect may be a position you could relieve yourself from, saving that no ambushes be

Tactfully planned by you in expectation of these “requests”.

Undulating waves of imagination may be conceived if you provide them with

Vitality to nurse them like suckled infants, and the aromas of the sweat on your brow

Will be sweet in the satisfaction that your toils are over. But for now you have studying to do!

Xylography is an art in which the blade must be honed, and poetry requires equal aptitude and un

Yielding attention if truly understood. The ultimate culmination of these truth is a

Zenith of absolution. May the zephyrs of inspiration fill your meddling mind…

A Mystery! A Mystery!
How many morns of merriment
may end in such sad sweet songs
of pleasing past pictures gone into putridity
of little lying lives – lifelessness
change consuming the creativity of childhood,
Until only an old oppressed imagination
exists to be blown below a bed
and adulthood advancing against all
the youthful yearning, and devastating
dreams of doing deeds destined to remain
restlessly for reasons reproduced generation
to generation, grandfather to grandchild, gaining
great gravity as a familiar family fortitude, flourishing
til the ghastly grave greets us.

how many questions must arrive
who upon the earliest to rise
found no falling leaves or scents of such
but the sweet odors of nights dewly dust
the spring has returned with no flower
but beautiful none the less

what is a dream
a thought, a desire
to be loved, or feared
which is a dream that is unattainable
the asinine fool has many
as does the wise hermit atop a hillside
do the experienced have only that has been
withered and dried up
and spoiled by the pestilence
that plagues the earth so old
what is the purpose of dreams
and what is the meaning of life
these questions are balanced and same
and those plagued with too many dreams
are they expected to be anything less than fatigued
with a lost hope of life, liberty, love and purpose to carry on

death is a mere word
describing all things and none
synonym for birth

Lo! experience death
in life and I truly know
I am live and dead

upon the cusp of morning
lies my awakening
my time of revelation
my time to light the torch
to guide, to lead myself through my time
my scale has no differing weights
the lodestone knows no black nor white
only what is before it
through the brightening storms and icy breaths
I do not wade, but open my eyes
to see not water, not lies
but truth, the timeless battle
there is no water
that is more pure than fire
that is less pure than fire
no darkness is devoid of light

Nolite esse, Anime virorum malorum
et feminarum malarum.

Mare ignis hostes DEI convocabit
et mors pro miseros erit…

Spirit of Evil Men and of
Evil Women, do not be!

The soldiers of God will fly,
and battles will wound evil
with powerful weapons!

The Sea of Fire will summon the enemies of God
and death will be before the wretched…

Nolite esse, Anime virorum malorum
et feminarum malarum.

Milites DEI volabit
et proelia vulnerabunt malos
telis potentibus.

Mare ignis hostes DEI convocabit
et mors pro miseros erit…

raw power of lust
crushes your delicate dreams
+
a shadow of need to flood
into death’s arms is not void
for you are a hindrance
+
the bare breast of the ill goddess
aches when sweet cyanide milk is produced
truly smooth as love, a lie
+
for love is a waxing moon
essential to cool your water
beneath my storm of quenching fire
but life is with ups and downs
every season has its tide
+
our blazing sun soars above the sloth sky
as a rose dies wishing for life after the painful summer
+
knife bitter urges by pounds of boiling blood
blood sprayed from a man, woman, boy, girl

The Hemorrhaging Eye
A star among evil
Stares your judgment down
Into the damp, dark basement

The Deceitful Air
A shroud of prevarication
Chokes your judgment until it falls
Into a catatonic state

The Debauching Tongue
A prostitute of consternation
Seduces your judgment with power
Leaving it disarrayed on the dusty earth

Who are my people
Who are G-D’s people

I am one of G-D’s people
and All people are my people
so All people are G-D’s people

I am no king
but A mere peasant
A follower of G-D
No one rules but G-D

My people are my equals
My people are my superiors
and I shall NEVER claim
That ANY person is my inferior