A Poem on the Malady of Reality
Prodigal son leading the lost sheep
Like jiminy cricket does my conscience never sleep
Jousting with tremors and fencing with demons
Conversing with sinners and cursing with seamen
Revelry, rivalry; the same coin
it all depends on what side you see
**
Making our home we do with those
Those who long and mourn
Regretting the day in which they were born
Escorting from the precipice
Does he lead us to benevolence
Magistrates and malevolence
Pharisees and penitents
Sickness is it not
For their choice becomes their lot
**
Virulent victims of a residual malady
The malady that has taken reality
This to watch, sad to see
A stupor in gait
Unable, unwilling to wait
For the desires of now must satiate
About the Creator
Ethan Ivy
I am the host of the Philosophical Gospel Podcast and an avid student of philosophy and theology.
A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli2 days ago in Poets
Standing Still
There are very few moments in life where time truly stands still. When your breath is taken from your chest and your body hangs weightless in that moment. Just long enough for it to stay with you from that day onwards. Deep in the red sands of the Australian Outback, I found that moment and clung to it forever.
By Kevin McLaughlin2 days ago in Wander
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