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"Gray skies."
Poems
Wilson Knapp Dec 2015
The Maven
Wilson Knapp
Dec 2015
How we marvel at possessions, think they make the best impressions;
For with material things we establish a close rapport.
Can’t you see we are infected by this false truth we’ve injected
Into the minds we’ve neglected, directed by commercial lore.
"These things will make you happy,” says the preacher of commercial lore,
Only this and nothing more.
There are nights we sit there spying, through our computer screens buying
Bourbon, books, and onyx watches, razor blades and house décor,
Bright scarfs in brilliant vermilion, cowboy boots coated reptilian,
Stroll through any mall pavilion, civilians went in every store.
Like clockwork we comeback again, millions spent in every store;
We always want something more.
Like in monopoly we aspire, the best estates to acquire,
So other players can look in envy at our great high score.
With the money we’ve been savin’, we want a home in New Haven,
So we sought a market Maven, craving a house on the shore,
A vintage house with wooden dock sitting calmly on the shore.
Can we find one that’s worth more?
Queerly we lust for assets, keep on buying have no regrets.
Are we dumb or blind or numb to keep doing what we abhor?
Statues shackled to cubicles, doped up on pharmaceuticals
****** fingers raw cuticles, we’re bulls for the matador.
He dances us round in circles, pulls the sword the matador
Is the one we all fall for.
But the Maven respectfully will encourage us helpfully,
“Follow your path of senseless sorrow, leave your qualms at the door,
Carry on with inhibition, keep working for that commission,
Please don’t mind your intuition, fruition comes from spending more.”
But like layered lies there’s a pea of truth on the mattress floor;
A princess would wake up sore.
We must move past our gluttony, and join the better company
Of men meek in spirit who act humbly like the days of yore.
Realize that joy stems from passion, not this sorry thing called fashion;
Embrace others with compassion to truly make our hearts soar;
And our souls from out the shadows can truly begin to soar.
Let’s be greedy – nevermore.
For with material things we establish a close rapport.
Can’t you see we are infected by this false truth we’ve injected
Into the minds we’ve neglected, directed by commercial lore.
"These things will make you happy,” says the preacher of commercial lore,
Only this and nothing more.
There are nights we sit there spying, through our computer screens buying
Bourbon, books, and onyx watches, razor blades and house décor,
Bright scarfs in brilliant vermilion, cowboy boots coated reptilian,
Stroll through any mall pavilion, civilians went in every store.
Like clockwork we comeback again, millions spent in every store;
We always want something more.
Like in monopoly we aspire, the best estates to acquire,
So other players can look in envy at our great high score.
With the money we’ve been savin’, we want a home in New Haven,
So we sought a market Maven, craving a house on the shore,
A vintage house with wooden dock sitting calmly on the shore.
Can we find one that’s worth more?
Queerly we lust for assets, keep on buying have no regrets.
Are we dumb or blind or numb to keep doing what we abhor?
Statues shackled to cubicles, doped up on pharmaceuticals
****** fingers raw cuticles, we’re bulls for the matador.
He dances us round in circles, pulls the sword the matador
Is the one we all fall for.
But the Maven respectfully will encourage us helpfully,
“Follow your path of senseless sorrow, leave your qualms at the door,
Carry on with inhibition, keep working for that commission,
Please don’t mind your intuition, fruition comes from spending more.”
But like layered lies there’s a pea of truth on the mattress floor;
A princess would wake up sore.
We must move past our gluttony, and join the better company
Of men meek in spirit who act humbly like the days of yore.
Realize that joy stems from passion, not this sorry thing called fashion;
Embrace others with compassion to truly make our hearts soar;
And our souls from out the shadows can truly begin to soar.
Let’s be greedy – nevermore.
Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven is one of my favorite poems, I wanted to create a poem playing off his style and meter. If you haven't read his poem, listen to Christoper Lee read it on youtube, insane.
Wilson Knapp Jan 2016
The Maven
Wilson Knapp
Jan 2016
How we marvel at possessions, think they make the best impressions;
For with material things we establish a close rapport.
Can’t you see we are infected by this false truth we’ve injected
Into the minds we’ve neglected, directed by commercial lore.
“These things will make you happy,” says the preacher of commercial lore,
Only this and nothing more.
There are nights we sit there spying, through our computer screens buying
Bourbon, books, and onyx watches, razor blades and house décor,
Brilliant scarfs in bright vermilion, cowboy boots coated reptilian,
Stroll through any mall pavilion, civilians shop in every store.
Like clockwork we comeback again, millions spent in every store;
We always want something more.
Like in monopoly we aspire, the best estates to acquire,
So other players can look in envy at our great high score.
With the money we’ve been savin’, we want a home in New Haven,
So we sought a market Maven, craving a house on the shore,
A vintage house with wooden dock sitting calmly on the shore.
Can we find one that’s worth more?
Queerly we lust for assets, keep on buying have no regrets.
Are we dumb or blind or numb to keep doing what we abhor?
Statues shackled to cubicles, doped up on pharmaceuticals
****** fingers raw cuticles, we’re bulls for the matador.
He dances us round in circles, pulls the sword the matador
Is the one we all fall for.
But the Maven respectfully will encourage us helpfully,
“Follow your path of senseless sorrow, leave your qualms at the door,
Carry on with inhibition, keep working for that commission,
Please don’t mind your intuition, fruition comes from spending more.”
But like layered lies there’s a pea of truth on the mattress floor;
A princess would wake up sore.
We must move past our gluttony, and join the better company
Of men meek in spirit who act humbly like the days of yore.
Realize that joy stems from passion, not this sorry thing called fashion;
Embrace others with compassion to truly make our hearts soar;
And our souls from out the shadows can truly begin to soar.
Let’s be greedy – nevermore.
For with material things we establish a close rapport.
Can’t you see we are infected by this false truth we’ve injected
Into the minds we’ve neglected, directed by commercial lore.
“These things will make you happy,” says the preacher of commercial lore,
Only this and nothing more.
There are nights we sit there spying, through our computer screens buying
Bourbon, books, and onyx watches, razor blades and house décor,
Brilliant scarfs in bright vermilion, cowboy boots coated reptilian,
Stroll through any mall pavilion, civilians shop in every store.
Like clockwork we comeback again, millions spent in every store;
We always want something more.
Like in monopoly we aspire, the best estates to acquire,
So other players can look in envy at our great high score.
With the money we’ve been savin’, we want a home in New Haven,
So we sought a market Maven, craving a house on the shore,
A vintage house with wooden dock sitting calmly on the shore.
Can we find one that’s worth more?
Queerly we lust for assets, keep on buying have no regrets.
Are we dumb or blind or numb to keep doing what we abhor?
Statues shackled to cubicles, doped up on pharmaceuticals
****** fingers raw cuticles, we’re bulls for the matador.
He dances us round in circles, pulls the sword the matador
Is the one we all fall for.
But the Maven respectfully will encourage us helpfully,
“Follow your path of senseless sorrow, leave your qualms at the door,
Carry on with inhibition, keep working for that commission,
Please don’t mind your intuition, fruition comes from spending more.”
But like layered lies there’s a pea of truth on the mattress floor;
A princess would wake up sore.
We must move past our gluttony, and join the better company
Of men meek in spirit who act humbly like the days of yore.
Realize that joy stems from passion, not this sorry thing called fashion;
Embrace others with compassion to truly make our hearts soar;
And our souls from out the shadows can truly begin to soar.
Let’s be greedy – nevermore.
I followed the Trochaic Octometer of Poe's The Raven
Sanders Maurice Foulke III AAS
Dec 2018
~Bardic magistry
Woven unto
Sage & Seeress
Whose vision
Penetrates
The Temporal Expanse.
The Crowned of Epistemology
Reigns sovereign
Unfurled upon the Seven Seas,
The Firmaments,
And The Gaian Mother
Aeonic & venerable:
Dedicated to the
Sagacious, sapient, source of sonority;
Mine Matriarch Mavenette
Wielding wisdom
Pristine, amidst
The Chaos of Chthonic,
At times, adjacent,
NetherRealm:
Valhalla of the once Valiant Soul
Twas I
The Wound-Bearer;
Convalescing in Light
Of the Simulacrum of the Sun,
Until
Greater Eden arrives:
Through lore the soul is lifted unto heights once denied;
The onerous edicts of Gravity begotten to be defied.
We peregrinate this plane searching for Lovelit Life;
We depart in ascendency beckoned by the rapture of the Divine.
No soul knows all, yet by lore, we come to rise, rise
In our excellency sired by the Empyrean Sublime.
By the exhalation of our Exodus we ne’er know how to fly,
Yet the Wings of Phantasmagoria are bestowed upon the Wise.
Let reverie propel you eternally into the Baptistery of the Sun,
for His love is infinite, His light needs ne’er be won.
The Ages are ephemeral & the Zeitgeist like Winds of Time:
Yet the Sciential is forever & wisdom transcends time.
Know that there is more than seen with the eyes;
In this boundless cosmos, precepts are meant to be defied:
Make history therefore of thine bygone days,
For the unborn waxeth thine present: a time-transcending sage.
O, She is the Millennial Maven
Transcending Space & Time
Rising through the Exosphere; Excelling Ether
into Mind’s Fire.
O, She is the Sage of Dreamscapes, Summoning
Luminaries unto Gaia:
That the Wisdom of the Ancients
Illuminate Orbis Terrae.
O, the Impossible is Possible,
Through Amazonians such as thee,
Waging Warfare through Wisdom
That her Clansman might live free.
O, Rapture in a Zephyr
(Aromatic & Fragrant Winds)
She harnesses the Tempest of Futility, that
Ineffable splendor is borne in stead.
O, the Tapestry of Eternity unfolds
(Through the hands of thee)
For through thine counsel are souls made stalwart,
In the Visage of Shadows made to see.
O, been hazed, been dazed
Mine entity hath been flayed,
Until incarnadine raiment arrayed
And through Nox & Somnus, mine heartsease is betrayed.
Lo! Yet as a wraith in pining
For the Land of Living & Immortal Truth,
O, the Priestess of the Sacrality of Sapience
Doth forge a revenant anew.
O, continue upon thine Pilgrimage
For thine spirit, it gleams:
Upon the Feuillemorte Leaves of Autumn
The Sacred Lotus, impregnable, breathes.
The Hiemal Sun glistens brighter
As discernment and time wax Sovereign Reign; knowledge is
The Diadem of The Epistemic Empress:
The Monarchy of your claim.
May Splendor and Mercy
Be promised unto thee,
May you promenade life’s trek in credence
That the Wings of Manumission make thee truly free.
If by chance you findeth enfettered
Your soul through sentiments strewn
Wonder upon the liberation
You’ve woven into mind’s renewed.
O, the Soul shall reapeth,
That which it sows,
You’ve harvested the Seeds of Liberty,
Let the Diadem of thine Ascendency thus be made to grow.
Woven unto
Sage & Seeress
Whose vision
Penetrates
The Temporal Expanse.
The Crowned of Epistemology
Reigns sovereign
Unfurled upon the Seven Seas,
The Firmaments,
And The Gaian Mother
Aeonic & venerable:
Dedicated to the
Sagacious, sapient, source of sonority;
Mine Matriarch Mavenette
Wielding wisdom
Pristine, amidst
The Chaos of Chthonic,
At times, adjacent,
NetherRealm:
Valhalla of the once Valiant Soul
Twas I
The Wound-Bearer;
Convalescing in Light
Of the Simulacrum of the Sun,
Until
Greater Eden arrives:
Through lore the soul is lifted unto heights once denied;
The onerous edicts of Gravity begotten to be defied.
We peregrinate this plane searching for Lovelit Life;
We depart in ascendency beckoned by the rapture of the Divine.
No soul knows all, yet by lore, we come to rise, rise
In our excellency sired by the Empyrean Sublime.
By the exhalation of our Exodus we ne’er know how to fly,
Yet the Wings of Phantasmagoria are bestowed upon the Wise.
Let reverie propel you eternally into the Baptistery of the Sun,
for His love is infinite, His light needs ne’er be won.
The Ages are ephemeral & the Zeitgeist like Winds of Time:
Yet the Sciential is forever & wisdom transcends time.
Know that there is more than seen with the eyes;
In this boundless cosmos, precepts are meant to be defied:
Make history therefore of thine bygone days,
For the unborn waxeth thine present: a time-transcending sage.
O, She is the Millennial Maven
Transcending Space & Time
Rising through the Exosphere; Excelling Ether
into Mind’s Fire.
O, She is the Sage of Dreamscapes, Summoning
Luminaries unto Gaia:
That the Wisdom of the Ancients
Illuminate Orbis Terrae.
O, the Impossible is Possible,
Through Amazonians such as thee,
Waging Warfare through Wisdom
That her Clansman might live free.
O, Rapture in a Zephyr
(Aromatic & Fragrant Winds)
She harnesses the Tempest of Futility, that
Ineffable splendor is borne in stead.
O, the Tapestry of Eternity unfolds
(Through the hands of thee)
For through thine counsel are souls made stalwart,
In the Visage of Shadows made to see.
O, been hazed, been dazed
Mine entity hath been flayed,
Until incarnadine raiment arrayed
And through Nox & Somnus, mine heartsease is betrayed.
Lo! Yet as a wraith in pining
For the Land of Living & Immortal Truth,
O, the Priestess of the Sacrality of Sapience
Doth forge a revenant anew.
O, continue upon thine Pilgrimage
For thine spirit, it gleams:
Upon the Feuillemorte Leaves of Autumn
The Sacred Lotus, impregnable, breathes.
The Hiemal Sun glistens brighter
As discernment and time wax Sovereign Reign; knowledge is
The Diadem of The Epistemic Empress:
The Monarchy of your claim.
May Splendor and Mercy
Be promised unto thee,
May you promenade life’s trek in credence
That the Wings of Manumission make thee truly free.
If by chance you findeth enfettered
Your soul through sentiments strewn
Wonder upon the liberation
You’ve woven into mind’s renewed.
O, the Soul shall reapeth,
That which it sows,
You’ve harvested the Seeds of Liberty,
Let the Diadem of thine Ascendency thus be made to grow.
May the sacraments
She confers,
Alight upon
Her
Own soul,
May She
effloresce
in the Light of The Empyrean One
Excelsior
Forevermore.
~Happy Holidays Beloved Ones.~
"Therefore, become imitators of God, as beloved children"
-Ephesians 5:1
She confers,
Alight upon
Her
Own soul,
May She
effloresce
in the Light of The Empyrean One
Excelsior
Forevermore.
~Happy Holidays Beloved Ones.~
"Therefore, become imitators of God, as beloved children"
-Ephesians 5:1