ANYONE POET

If it only takes a Poet or Anyone,

for both are the same and no different..

We grow greater by its Music agained.

All people love reason and rhyme as Love

Love's Labor Lost was recovered at once.

It foretold of no debt, war, guilt, oh source

You become to my Mind my Aegies.

For I love you more than an Eon dies.

I agonize over your Beauty, Time.

Oh Time, you are as Gentle as the Morning.

You arrive at the Appointed Lamp, Glow.

While to war is to venture a Great Fate.

Cast as it is a False Promise cannot.

Can't do for you what your Poetry Art.

DECLINE OF LITERATURE

As Depending on a wheelbarrow
Everything reduces to religion
And Spinning of hours for reasoning.
Love was what Logic becomes not as much.

The power of Art is not a Machine.
It represents the greatest discipline.
To drill at your Life bomb it with conscience,
Then stand in the mirror naked as much.

To be despised at conception and birth
and die every time to appease the wound
Go about to live in the underworld
as Dostoevsky was riddled with debt
learned how to objectify death for it.
While literature persists it Declines.
Crime is to be born Punishment to Live.

Anglo America Anti-Poetic

1. FreedomFreedom from Tired Irony
3. Languages have kill switches only when False.
4. They are the Nets of Consonants and Vowels.
5. Furthermore, they store all the Truth's Treasures.
6. Freedom to Live and Live Happily, Bliss.
7. Magic,, Love, Faith, take it all for nothing.
8. No word would a gun trigger nor crown king.
9. For the Language is of Love or it Isn't.
10. It ceases to be Ceremonious.
11. Yet it, too, has Defenses, the Bards these.
12. We teach Peace before War and after War.
13. Nothing as far-fetched as Death has Power.
14. Such as these, my lips that bless kiss your Eyes:
15. You are greater than any given Source.
16. For you are my Love and my Love Endures.
19. ANGLOPHONE AMERICA
21. As Gaza is sad what about white trash?
22. We're forced to smile by tyranny's lash.
23. The English claim our language as there's
24. THen use it to Fabricate for Bedlam.
25. THey banish the magic from their Mosses.
26. Who does that and gets away with it, Soul?
27. Makes verse of Love into verse of Bedlam,
28. Again and never tires of the Bedlam.
29. The Lamb wakened to life as a Blood spill
30. The Sheets of Othello riddled with weapons.
31. The World is a Theatre not a Louse.
32. You ask why I shout in your Idiom,
33. It belongs to the one who mastered Some.
34. Not to the Lesser companion of Beds.
35. But to its greatest quality of Flesh
36. Like
38. from Tired Irony
40. Languages have kill switches only when False.
41. They are the Nets of Consonants and Vowels.
42. Furthermore, they store all the Truth's Treasures.
43. Freedom to Live and Live Happily, Bliss.
44. Magic,, Love, Faith, take it all for nothing.
45. No word would a gun trigger nor crown king.
46. For the Language is of Love or it Isn't.
47. It ceases to be Ceremonious.
48. Yet it, too, has Defenses, the Bards these.
49. We teach Peace before War and after War.
50. Nothing as far-fetched as Death has Power.
51. Such as these, my lips that bless kiss your Eyes:
52. You are greater than any given Source.
53. For you are my Love and my Love Endures.
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55. ANGLOPHONE AMERICA
57. As Gaza is sad what about white trash?
58. We're forced to smile by tyranny's lash.
59. The English claim our language as there's
60. THen use it to Fabricate for Bedlam.
61. THey banish the magic from their Mosses.
62. Who does that and gets away with it, Soul?
63. Makes verse of Love into verse of Bedlam,
64. Again and never tires of the Bedlam.
65. The Lamb wakened to life as a Blood spill
66. The Sheets of Othello riddled with weapons.
67. The World is a Theatre not a Louse.
68. You ask why I shout in your Idiom,
69. It belongs to the one who mastered Some.
70. Not to the Lesser companion of Beds.
71. But to its greatest quality of Flesh
72. Like

Then there was Twitter....That Blew the House down.

Like a Bad Wolf with Fangs and desires.

A Neowulf Beo couldn't imagine.

Worse yet the Jew was the stereotyped too.

Old Shakespeare created many Moslems

THough not intending to, he forsake Love

Each of his Jews is barbarian, Semitic,

Though we inherit Romeo and Juliet,

We prefer to be Denmark's ear poison.

Why I say "we" is a mystery to me.

I am not English nor speak it too great.

I did not create Shylock nor Hitler.

I'd die for my Ideals and then some.

I'd write ten thousand verses to Bedlam.

EGG-SHAPED, Ode to Williams

Alphabet hack or halfovit science?
I put my research  on hold for a minute.
It seemed as though to miss me the ingrate.
While it grows more attached to my insides.

IT repeats its mantras whle I'm sleeping.
Or keeps me all night awakened by it.
Bring me my alibi bring me my spirit.
But first let it pass near the innocence.

And whisper in its tender ear something,
Something altogether mystical, sage.
I see where you're going I'm sorry
Earlier, I wasn't ready to listen.

Interrupt me again and I will speak.
Or tell it to me again and again

Ode to Arab Men

Arab Men they are so earthy and warm.

They never interrupt you or even yawn.

They have norms of tradition are helpful.

THey won't TOUCH you even. I'm grateful.

I don't want a man touching on me then.

I prefer we communicate through poetry.

Love of my Brother of chaste desire.

A child of God notwithstanding, fine.

No eagerness to satisfy his crotch.

He feigns he's American for my good?

I wish I could be covered from head to foot.

I'd rather wear a Burka than be fetished.

But here comes a Christian soldier instead

Unlike any other that came to tread.

Absolute (__)eath

--Shall have no dominion, DT

These are the words that are no words at all

Zero that represents absolute wholes

Vanished every time it approaches null

There’s no gray area where it’s fulfilled

But death, death alone has value of soul

The martyr has lived a full life, not so?

For an ideal it was tolled at once

Being is the purchase of an idol

While living is everything inspired

How so?  How can innocence fall apart?

How can shattered hearts all scattered about

speak if not by the silence of virtue?

Don’t speak to me of the bombs I purchased

But lull me to sleep without a conscience.

Magic Idealism

Last week it was Faith this time it's Magic.
Or Magical Thinking, a Book Project,

How Misguided is War how Insipid
for Proving what Animals wouldn't?

It is not a Lark but a Mystery.

When Arthur died so did England as Well.

Anything afterward was Epochal

Eulogy must never Suffice , Why?

Accepting Death is Accepting it Soon.

Death is a Syllogism an Errand

But to Live is to Life its Expression.

Just as killing is Rhythm of Dying

Calling it Closer to its Nothingness

Burning the Feet of an Innocent Soul