Judgment

Reasons and trials, when in time they'll shooteth forth, Oh, 

thou wilt wrangle in resignation, smote all philosophy and 

doctrines, life is but chalkstone wrote in the sand, alas, spare

or shew me no favor, precepts to a Ghost whose shadow is 

the greatest myth of all time, an ode to this covenant of death

takes away one’s ikigai, and squandering time in a molded 

mosque or a coercing church only corrupts my ideology. I 

need not dispense my concern on such matters of indoctrination, 

for I follow no one but the sun that rises in the East. Noblemen

who praise God are the ones who dine with the devil and pick

your pockets, I dissent upon all that demands my service and 

oath to any religious cause in the name of some God who partitions

complete annihilation, I rather serve in Hell with my kind of 

philosophy than bow down to some Shadow like some obedient 

chained dog, for I live by truth and facts and I’ll never serve 

one book of Servitude and Torture. 

The Song

 No matter how many generations have 

come and gone, the ancestral songbird still 

sings the same song as her mother and her

mother’s mother, 

Dandelions of Summer

 

Spring welcomes the yellow piss-beds,

gold, and green-stemmed, 

endless fields of first-feed bee nectar, 

Linnaeus wrote of your toxic value, 

myth, or gift from the gods, 

you litter the leas with cropped strands;

food, drink, and medicine

imbues your magical potion, 

as some pishogue lost folk art,

though the bitter wine

flows gently into sour mouths;

strigose tassels 

hang down like golden mops, 

they breed the ground like a harem’s keep, 

sweeping endless fields

colored in van Gogh yellow,

fever the glorious summer

of picnics, and fest beds

of sunshine.