Life: Shifting Mind

It's interesting - I've been going back and labeling some of my older posts that don't currently have labels and I've noticed hos incredibly much my philosophy and especially my politics have shifted over the last couple of years. If for nothing else, that's a good reason to keep a blog.

Poetry: Babel

In my last post I mentioned that I hadn't written any poetry in a long time, with one exception. I figured I'd post that one up too. This one grew out of a random line that struck me (the one about building up Babel towers) and is definitely a first draft so I'd love comments. Also, I should mention, I was reading Byron when I wrote this. 

Babel 

The old and bloody king was slain

His fatted guts upon a field split

His subjects in their shallow graves were lain

And a great and noxious pyre lit

The rotten kingdom was laid low

Our mighty captain was made the lord

Done with war, we set aside the bow

As we into plowshares beat our swords

We gathered up the fallen stones

And melted down the enemies shields

With them we built up our homes

And soon began to work our fields

Never did we sing a mournful dearth

Nor the bells of sadness ring

Happily I plowed the earth

And joyous melodies would sing

My land became my only joy

As thoughts of war turned into dust

Then one day I walked alone

The fetch water from a new dug well

There I met a haggard crone

Her aspect hideous and fell

She told me these had been her husband’s lands

And of the ruin our war had made

She grappled me with pleading hands

and asked me that I lend her aid

Spitting in her face I cried

“How dare you mock our honest war,

I will not help you!” I replied

“you kingless and repulsive whore”

Cursed, she said that I would be

To visions of the future dream

And my eyes the hearts of people see

To understand their horrid scheme

Mocking I returned to hearth and home

Yet fell I into troubled sleep

I dreamed I saw my lord that day

Locked in battle with the wicked king

On and on they danced with feet of clay

With desperate cut and fearsome slashing

Yet at the end the king lay dead

His stomach parted by the blade

The crown my lord placed on his own head

And cried, “A new Kingdom is made”

Then I saw him sweep away the soldiers bones

And said “We shall have glory in our days”

And the cracked and fallen stones

He did a mighty city raise

But then the King’s wounds poured upon the sand

A terrible and crimson flood

That swept across my lord’s new land

Till it became a sea of blood

There I saw my lord’s young bride

Rutting the corpse upon the sanguine shore

Awakened now I go to walk the streets

And hear them say “How like the gods are we”

Boasting of their shallow feats

While they, the murderers, walk free

Young men in Lust’s poison loom

Kiss the women’s tarnished heads

Who with silk and sweet perfume

Draw  them to their husband’s beds

I see their shame and pride are now laid bare

How they, the damned, seek their own glory

While my blackened dreams make me aware

Of how the hollow men shall end their story

Seeing now, I tell them of their coming lot

Yet all my words their hearts deny

“Am I Cassandra that you hear me not?”

Out in the feted streets I cry

While up and up they build their Babel towers

and say “How like the gods are we”

All they’ve built shall fall to  dust and die

For all eternity, like great Ozymandias, to lie

Amidst the blood and rubble will I lay

My heart shall break like shattered clay

Writing: Some Poetry

Been a while since I've posted anything up here, but today I got struck randomly with an idea for a free form poem, and wrote it in the warm, lazy hours of the afternoon. I used to write a lot of poetry back in the day, but have been off of it for several years (with one exception). Nevertheless, I'm pretty happy with this one. I named this "Part One" because at some point I want to write one about the beauty of silence (this one is about its terror).

Silence, Part One

In the rift between the silence of your words

The blasting roar of ocean waves

Fills the gap between the stillness of your voice

With the pealing of a thunderous night

I ache to flee the booming madness

Of the breach between the quiet of your words

To find the light serenity,

Nuzzled in the comfort of your voice

Art: Steampunk Gentleman

Picture of my friend Nate as a Steampunk Gentleman.