"autem" poems
Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut
mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut Jesum
Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros
autem, ut concilium Dei et conjunctionem
Apostolorum. Sine his Ecclesia non vocatur; de
quibus suadeo vos sic habeo.
S. Ignatii Ad Trallianos.
And when this epistle is read among you, cause that
it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans.
The broad-backed hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.
Flesh and blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the True Church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.
The hippo’s feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.
The ‘potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.
At mating time the hippo’s voice
Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.
The hippopotamus’s day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way—
The Church can sleep and feed at once.
I saw the ‘potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.
Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.
He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr’d virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.
4.7k
"...Motus autem veros ex eorum causis, effectibus & apparentibus differentijs colligere, & contra, ex motibus seu veris seu apparentibus, eorum causas & effectus, docebitur fusius in sequentibus..."
D. Isaaci Newtoni.
There will be a sequence of unexpected statements. We understood, that this was said which likened the beginning to the continuation. It was the orchard from which delicious fruits displayed their love for the taste of them, the meanings. Seeds were harvested through the dimly perceived writings of ancient scholars.
{ [ c exp tan r ( x ) d w d r ] / ( d x ) }
= { [ ( k , h ) tau int g ( r ) d w d t ] / ( d f d v ) } .
Visited in the course of evolution, all realized the implication, that seasons would arrive from which the meeting of machines would be complementary like the force of a sports team. The objects gathering into droplets included the growth of sunlight transforming ashes; yet the dictionary is not to change.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
Theme: "Laughter for Breakfast"
A Duet by:
Bard Oluwateniola Adeniyi (Faderera)
Fuad Opeyemi (Gemini)
A free Verse Poetry
🚹🚺🚹🚺🚹🚺🚹🚺🚹🚺
Quite a yore, when the snail crawl in the open
The birds fly, oblivious of the stone
The heart so calm,
Not threatening to break out of the rib cage
Yore, when we have peace as the housewife
And laughter for breakfast
💪Gemini💪
Days are gone, when we arise at the hissing of the vulture,
When we patiently wait for the owl to hunt silently at night,
Or joyfully await the folktales of the aged,
And enjoy the moment of moonlight chit chatting while playing 'ayo'
👊Faderera👊
The thunder might clash
Storm may roar,
But the breeze of tranquil,
Still find its way to soothe the raging heart
Indeed, laughter for breakfast
💪Gemini💪
When we assemble at the manor to celebrate our unity,
Wine and dine without fear of being poisoned,
When we dangle our waist to the rhythmic beats and get autem,
Or twerk our butts to the sound of the music and not get *****
👊Faderera👊
Days, when the crop rose,
To kiss the morning light
Plants welcome the dew with joy
Felicity is brought to us on a platter
And the heaven smile its grace down
💪Gemini💪
Gone is the time, when we fall to our knees or one's face to greet,
When we have eros love to opposite gender not same gender..
When we honour the church and respect it's doctrine,
When giving wasn't a problem and kindness wasn't scarce
👊Faderera👊
Time so long, when smiles glint through the eye
Danger not friends with darkness
The chain of slavery,
Not tied to our neck, living fully
In a house not haunted
💪Gemini💪
Long gone are the days, when the richest man is one with a shilling,
and a pence could earn quality education and utilities,
When feeding wasn't a life taking occupation
Or shelter a life threatening need
👊Faderera👊
Now, lost to the feeling of nostalgia
Giving knife to demon of today
On knees, begging to be euthanized
Oh, long gone are this days
When we had Laughter for breakfast
💪Gemini💪
Now,a shilling amount to nothing; even a pence is worthless,
The leaders now dish out war and serve themselves peace,
Corruption is now added to the list on our menu,
Our food isn't complete without massacre,
Favour is now amounted to cruelty or being diabolical...
Alas! gone are the days when laughter was for breakfast
👊Faderera👊
©Oluwateniola Adeniyi™
©Pen of A true Gemini™
Do Rate this piece of Art 🎭 🎭
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 4:21 PM UTC
The fall of Rome is upon us.
I have spied it from my window,
i dare not intrude.
venimus
vidimus
vicimus
(ourselves)
The slaves are in revolt;
the Colliseum burns,
flames tenderly licking
destruction and freedom,
a beacon in the
dark autumn night;
Carthage has embraced
its high sodium diet,
it now seeks equality;
the Senate lies in ruin,
much as it always has,
now bereft of contributors.
Ego autem relictus solus devius,
faciamus nobis effugium.
Come, fair plebian lady,
get in my chariot,
i will 'Billy Ocean' you
all the way
to the end of the world,
because some things never change.
veni
vidi
vici
NOTHING
per memet
ita reliqui,
empty-handed
my new fair plebian in tow.
Roma victa.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
Luna (Latine Lunae) est terrae sola naturalis satellite. [E] [F] [VIII] licet non amet naturalis satellitis in Systemate Solare est, inter satellites maioribus signis maxima quod ad magnitudinem orbes obiecti (primarium) [g] [a] et post Io satellite Jovis, qui est secundus densa inter densitates satellite cognoscuntur.
Luna est in vna *** orbem terrarum, et semper, et faciens facies, *** cis insignis, quae per tenebras inter maria volcanus editis clarus, et veteri crusta impactus crateres prominent. Est enim post solem in coelo et immutari. Quanquam autem id candidissimam, obscurus etiam superficie *** bitumen reflectance fessis tantum leviter superior. Huius temporibus perquam cyclus regularem habere in coelo, quia antiquitus in luna lingua maximus culturae opes, fastos artis fabularis. Producit vim gravitatis luna dies et tempora et levi freta. Nunc de orbita lunae distantia diameter vicibus terra in caelum facit ut fere idem sit qui apparet Solis. Nempe per id fere totum solem lunam eclipsin solis tegere. Hoc simile est de magnitudine visuali fortuitum apparens. Lunaris a terra distantiae lineae sit amet, crescens ad rate of 3,82 ± 0,07 mm per annum, id est, non tamen semper. [IX]
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Nos autem non in vacuum cucurri caeca.
Perdidit in tenebris sumus.
Ex visus, ex animo.
Nos iam esset desperato.
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
❁
the skylark summons the dead to rise as you watch with cloudy, wishful eyes
our sisterhood survives throughout the dark
they will never silence our voices
when we call to the tune, the world rejoices
wild child, living in a fantasy
wild child, the myth lives on within you
wild child, you create your own dreams
wild child, enchant them
do what you do
the white cat knocks over the lamp with a smile
a sea of tears flows from your eyes as deep as the Nile
a mirage is in sight, a vision it seems
the fabric of your sadness is ripped at the seams
we weave a spell together, fashioned stitch by stitch
you look to me and laugh, mischievous like a witch
our sisterhood still lives on through the dark as we wait for the time to leave our mark
they will never silence our voice
when the world calls our tune we will rejoice
fuera puera, vivens in autem fantasia
fuera puera, quod fabula vitae on intra vos
furea puera, vos creo tuus agnosco somniums
fuera puera
lamia
facio qualis vos facio
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
*you never really say piranha.... it’s more like piraña... no wonder english without the necessary diacritic spans north america and australia and the emoji platform, so the romans said: bonum, sed ν (nu) *** linea obliqus, sic ha est ad hoc tetragrammaton pars, et allah est la la; quamvis latin est mort scriptio autem non clara voce - basically just write some latin using english grammar, what’s beneath it? guess.*
i’ve written almost 10,000 poems and still i can only
remember having said one or two memorable things,
i mean, for god’s sake, the pedigree maine ****
that lived with me for the 7 years he lived to
dying of kidney failure said more memorable things
than i did, having only said meow / miał (i.e. he had it, once),
maybe that’s because i don’t actually cradle these outbursts
to much appreciation, hence my own worthy critique -
but like i said it once admiring spiderweb threads and the washing lines:
by the casual phrasing ‘killing time,’ i’m sure people invoke
the meaning: to occupy a definite space;
the antonym? that’s a bit what philosophy preaches - ‘to stand outside
all of time and space,’ well the first one i can do and feel remorseful
concerning boredom, but that gives me an indefinite space,
although this whole ‘killing time’ is a great option, i’m going to
schwarzenegger time with a sawn off umlaut, ooh... kick to the groins
watch the crouching tiger hidden *** change - and occupy
a definite space. see, you have to find the hammers and the chainsaws in language
to escape the waterfall of fictional narration, obviously grammatical
categorisation of words makes it easier to suddenly realise:
am i really typing, or actually hammering a word in?
but realising that grammatical categorisation of words
exposes unlikely-to-turn-rusty tools gives writing a whole worth
of sanity, as no longer the chance encounter, but a safe environment
to abseil like a spider which lost the plot of creativity famed by the cobweb, just ******** out a piet mondrian.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
Ego in domo Dei,
the abbey on a hill
surrounded by high trees
the spire reaching
finger-like heavenward,
la natura dell'essere
the Italian monk said
dimostrato da Cristo,
I hoovered the cloisters
with the hoover
whereas old monks
swept with a big broom
for centuries
there efforts
took more time
but less noise,
Dom Charles showed
how to pluck apples
from the trees
and to save the fruit
undamaged by wrong picking
he said to me
late afternoon
before the office
of None,
she had me
where she wanted
and come she said
enter as a ship
into harbour or port
so I did,
Dieu sait tout
the French monk said
as we tidied book
in the large library
of the abbey,
ohne Gott sind
wir als nichts
the Austrian monk said
I listened to him
as we prepared the altar
for the Mass
and laid out
gowns for the priest-monks,
I lay on my bed
and watched
the sky colour change
from blue to dark blue
a bell tolling for Vespers,
necesse est dolor
de peccato non autem
infinita distractione
said St Bernard
so I read,
I wanted her
and tongued
her sweet valley
as she spread
her wings for me,
sauf nos propres pensées
il n'y a absolument
rien en notre pouvoir
said Gareth
quoting Descartes
as we walked
to the refectory
for lunch after
the office of sext,
incense in
the air I breathed
in the church
leftover from Mass
mixed with the smell
of baked bread,
a voice sounds near
or far off
inside my head.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
This flame of blue is now burning black
Sitting in a room waiting on the next anxiety attack
Scratching at the walls
The doors and floor
How much of this madness must be endured ?
While the mind and soul
Are slowly being twisted and disturbed.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
~for the mothers, and for her~
§§§
this utterance emits itself, without poetic supervision,
like so many of its predecessors, a passing remark
transmogrifies to an exercise of praise, of humility, love
this is for her, of the nameless arms of forces that fasten
safety pins to our clothes, reminder to us that we are
loved and to come home safely so she, the little ship may rest easy
she, a homing boat, in a small slip resting, preferring
no changeover to a mighty and powerful dreadnought sent to do
a search & rescue mission for young ones, babes who lose their way
but we know the truth, the heart of the matter, this one, writ,
for her and her and her and her and you, the countless ones,
mighty armada of the mothers, God’s flesh and blood, a steeled navy
they suffer whatever it takes, but never defeat, for they know,
the heart engine fires never cease, never forget, indeed the word
never not in their lexicon, only forever and forevermore
§§§§§
Mon May 4
9:42
in anno autem coronavirus plaga/ in the first year of the plague
from the heart of the epicenter / ex corde in epicenter
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 10:00 AM UTC
Scio hunc non
Scio quod durum
quid per illa verba in occulto
et optima sunt
Non *** Latino
haec sunt idem
Im 'non boken
posuerunt in monumento
Non sum abierunt
ego autem mortuus sum,
capti a verbis victima
in caput meum
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
I am falling
Carded wool and eiderdown
Muted hues in the resonant ghost of you
My words drift
Shadow soft before the deluge
Of an angry sky
I pray for rain
Even though I cower under cover of your grace
Myriad tears from heaven broken
Etch the epitaph and rune stones
Twist the light to brazen
Blanched in acid
Your brilliance blinds me
Sunlight spilled on fallow ground
I am soaked to the marrow
Weathered and weary
An the abyss whispers ever closer
Embrace the profane till the flesh burns ashen
*Nati sumus solus et nos solus perire
Deo autem non est sine interiori lumine
You follow me sombrous through the maelstrom
Trade my hueless soul
For the ecstasy of light
**In raptu lumine vestit me
*we are born alone and we die alone
Without God there is no internal light
**Clothe me in the ecstasy of light
TL Boehm
11/13/2012
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
When nights array, shines past the window pane,
I sit and wait for the midnight rain.
Before the shower begins, I fall into deep comatose,
Falling and flying into the dark and watch the night, my soul to diagnose.
Deep within the psyche of me, I find a door,
I have reached my center, the very entrance to my core.
I am curious to look inside myself, to see the bad and the good,
To open up, to all I have misunderstood.
It opens to my touch and inside the sent of roses pierces me.
A garden overgrown with worry.
I enter and frown at all the weeds I've let in,
I have kept it all deep within.
Tears fall down as I cry the words I never said,
I scream the thoughts I kept inside my head.
All my pain comes out upon the dirt under my feet,
All the lies and sadness, so bittersweet.
I finally end without a word to be spoken,
All the bad memories now shattered and broken.
I look to the door and think of the things I've always had.
My family and friends, my home and my bed, through the good and the bad.
Slowly all the weeds of worry, the thistle of lies all vanished,
All the dark and violence banished.
I watch the roses grow, lilies bloom,
I smell the lavenders sweet perfume.
I wander to the nearest tree to climb and find some words in it's bark.
"Hortus autem Mea Mens." the word send me smiling away the dark.
If these words have affected you, then there is hope still left for humankind.
The night is long but i can wait, in the garden of my mind.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 9:51 PM UTC
Perhaps it is easy
for those who have never been thrown in a tank and blasted
to say, “It is safe.”
But when you have seen them killed and buried in a
landfill under garbage bags labeld Biohazard;
when men, dressed in white, lock them up with their water-filled eyes; when you see her in the street wearing it which has caused torture/
And see the torture in their pores, pleasuring society, and see them
intoxicated in a garbage bag and crushed by machines in your mind;
when you have to take part of this torture, to earn a living, and see them sweating blood, and see them powdered up and powering down, and see their tortured lungs give up and collapse;
when you experience the torture first account, and notice no animal is
safe;
when they are deformed and become gruesome; when they are marked dead or eliminated
on the notepad in these men's pad folios
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
There was the silence
unlike any other silence
the church seemed to keep
the world at bay,
ego autem steti
in tenebris,
the darkness around me,
the Austrian monk limped
the aisle between choir stalls
head lowered,
nothing is so strong
as gentleness nothing
so gentle as real strength
Francis de Sales said,
Dom Joseph(dear Bunny)
spoke of God's nearness
even to those who assumed
He didn't exist,
I swept the refectory
with the big broom thinking
of the Crucified above
the abbot's table
how His arms were in line
to each corner,
holiness consists simply
in doing God's will
and being just what
God wants us to be
said Therese,
Hugh thin-lipped eyed me
as I chanted the Latin words
just behind him learning
the phrasing trying to get
it spot on but failing,
the old monk lay abed
breathing his near last
rosary hanging between
fingers aged and thin,
Leo stood by the bell rope
shaking hands before
his farewell to Rome
tall and thin I shook his hand
as did others,
Dieu nous tient près
the French monk said,
close to God is all we wanted
or so we thought,
she brought me coffee
after hot *** standing there
in her nakedness
hotness seeping
from the cup,
the bell tower stood out
in the moonlight
like God's finger
pointing skyward,
such silence can haunt
can disturb
can bring memories
these I had as bruises,
for a truly religious man
nothing is tragic Gareth said
quoting Wittgenstein,
she licked me clean
offering her wine
and I sipped and we shared,
God is close the monk said
pouring black coffee
and He cared.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
***** ADLUVIUS
ADLUVIUS *****
ADLUVIUS quidam
Latinorum
praesumtores]
**** x ***** matris suæ feminas suas
English & orum x naturale eius debent
x Aldus *******
summa Torres
**** x ***** matris suae
feminas suas
Latinorum_ naturalis & x &
eius debent
x Aldus ******* summa coronas
Quidam voluntatem quam feminam x vulvam
Anglicus tympanum x ****** sua:
prius x *******
I tores
x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae
Latina: x i & C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
mensem per ******* summitatem
**** x ***** matris suae
feminas suas
Anglicus x & orum naturale eius debent
x Aldus *******
summa Torres
**** x ***** matris suae
feminas suas
Latinorum_ naturalis & x &
eius debent
x Aldus ******* summa coronas
Quid Pro voluntatem quam feminam x vulvam
Anglicus x naturale eius debent tribulatione sua:
prius x *******
Ego torres x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae
Latinorum_ x & C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
mensem per ******* summitatem
Quidam autem ex femina x vulvam
Anglus x naturale eius debent tribulatione sua:
prius x *******
ego viatores
x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae
Latinorum_ x C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
Per mensem ******* top
Quidam autem ex femina x vulvam
Anglus x naturale eius debent tribulatione sua:
prius x ******* Ego viatores
x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae Latinorum_ × C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
Per mensem ******* top
Quidam autem ex femina x vulvam
Anglus x naturale eius debent tribulatione sua:
prius x ******* Ego viatores
x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae latinorum_ x C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
Per mensem ******* top
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC
From the cloisters
the moonlight created shadows
across the garth,
a monk pulled
the cloister bell
for supper,
Dio è vicino
e lontano
the Italian monk
said to me
in the workshop
repairing a chair,
Dom Charles took an apple
from the tree
and twisted it just so
it came away
in his hand
and he rubbed it
against his black habit
to a shine and said
that's how it is done,
Dom George machined
the habit seam
as I watched
his tonsured head
shone in
the overhead lamp,
le opere che si fanno
possono essere l'unico
sermone alcune persone
si sente oggi
Francesco d'Assisi said
so I read,
I take my place
in the refectory
stand there
waiting for grace
to begin
studying the wooden floor
and how the overhead lights
shone there,
hoc autem qui parce
seminat parce
et metet et qui
seminat in benedictionibus
et metet
Paul of Tarsus said
Dom Joe told me,
who sows little
reaps little
whoever sows much
shall reap much
I mused,
orange bricks
browny black
in moonlight,
bell tolled
against evening sky,
I walked the cloister
wondering why.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 3:55 AM UTC
*Verum quaerimus, studiose poetica in hoc situ
Ubi autem poetas
Ubi est artificiose conscripto*
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
Knelt down
weeded the flower bed
in the cloister garth,
orange brick walls
waist high
shadows in the cloister
where the sun
could not touch,
intrantes autem
in domum Dei
so I did
that first time in 68,
smell of baked bread
and incense
and aged brick
and sight of cloisters
in moonlight,
Domine da mihi
castitatem et nondum
Augustine said
I thought likewise
but never said,
she cupped me
with her soft fingers
and tongued me
in her dark room,
Hugh thin faced
grim featured
eyed the breviary
chanted the Latin text
beside me
I copied
best I could,
partecipare alla
vita di Dio
the Italian monk said
as we mended
broken fences
by the far grounds,
George read
the day's text
in practice
must be clever
Dom James said
clear as a bell's tone,
Twice armed
if we fight with faith
Gareth said in Greek
quoting Plato
twice armed
fighting with faith
or suchlike
he added
seeing my
incomprehension,
have me
she said
in whisper
soft breath
whiskey soaked,
rope between hands
rough against skin
bell pulled as bell tolled
vibrated loud
in ear's fold
and hold.
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
ibi est scena -
autem ibi
nullus actor -
there is a stage -
but there is
no actor.
if *omni orbis
est scena*
ring true...
we can confine
the aktor
in the mould of a medax -
halfwit minotaur...
culprit and
the scalped crown...
i have the bloom of whatever
flower i take to choosing -
and the remains:
an engraving of
hopes, dirges, and desires...
whispered fragrances
to allocate a foothold of
cerberus's stood ground...
barking, whining,
whimpering,
howling and desiring
the lodgings of a
smoked timber-frame -
revealed in the immediate
circumstance -
as the loss of the ultimatum:
the penultimate loss -
the one, pondering death...
the one:
once discarding,
now all the more
embracing...
all word is a stage,
given an actor present...
but no stage is ever a stage,
where no actor takes to
invite the world being staged...
in the guise of
a worldly staged
loss of a reckoning -
to no stage an equivalent world -
to no actor an equivalent role -
there is a confirmation
nonetheless -
a stage empty, without actor,
is a world emptied with
a labour that otherwise demands
a caress of a soothing tongue -
in replica, as in non-replicating
take on disaster - a formality of
re-introduction.
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC
*if you're a "thinker" - you don't require a "freedom" of speech - by freedom of speech i mean: the lacklustre of the "freedom" to think... how the two seem unconvincing... oh my my my, what a waste of time; sooner the pistachio ice-cream worth my name, than the folowing quest for question; thank **** poland, thank, **** poland, the land, who "cherished" both **** germany, and communist russia... seem regurgitating islam... ooh sorry, pooh bear said, what in wahabi? graf einmal! graf zweimal! nein, halt zählen... schädel beklagen die kürbislachen von oktober; die letzte reste von ein tag.*
may i introduce some biblical command?
and i ask doubly -
what's the difference between the "devil"
that asks within temptation -
compared with the devil that asks within
the confines of charm?
does not one leave man with the notion
of free will, and the other with the omnipotent
god?
who beyond man, be indistinguishable
to keep devil or god away from parodical
laments...
if the devil does tempt,
and if a god does charm...
who's will equals who's?
that the devil marks his will
by the unus autem -
and that god...
omni autem -
that the devil rather charm,
and god play the puppet of a devil
with the serpentine of tease, and ask,
and the lost question of temptation being
asked.... not i, nor anyone else,
be believed with a logic of rhyme...
charm forthright provides
unfulfilled truths -
but you tempt with
the provision of fulfilling outright lies;
seems i wrote enough truth,
that i've forgotten the original german
that might be worth recitation.
*and how i love my terrible germaniac...
at least a part of me still feels
insensible, as to leverage the human
cruelty of imperfection.*
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC