"domini" poems
i have spent all this weekend
building voodoo dolls
out of belly-button lint,
newspaper clippings, pipe cleaners,
and tufts of my own hair.
They all have names.
The Fearless Lemming.
Odenkirk.
Mr. Tweezles.
Vexorg, the Merciless.
Bob.
*Forgive me father, for i have sinned
and i liked it...*
Vexorg, true to his name,
slew the Lemming in single combat.
It was...disturbing, at best,
and quite messy.
Mr. Tweezles betrayed his sacred
post as medicine man,
poisoning Vexorg with krokodil.
I thought Odenkirk would
exhibit strength of character,
but he fled in the night
like a ***** most likely
in fear of Bob.
Mr. Tweezles should have paid attention
to that turn of events.
Bob fancied himself an attorney,
and Mr. Tweezles thought
himself clever and indestructible.
i am Dark Helmet,
playing puppet-master
with my dolls,
red-handed
intercepted.
Today's horoscope:
Fear death by stupidity.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
624
Forever—it composed of Nows—
’Tis not a different time—
Except for Infiniteness—
And Latitude of Home—
From this—experienced Here—
Remove the Dates—to These—
Let Months dissolve in further Months—
And Years—exhale in Years—
Without Debate—or Pause—
Or Celebrated Days—
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Domini’s—
1.4k
Too saddest to tell you
today on this First Day of Spring
my Daddy has his Birthday
anyway
he cannot sing
not today nor tomorrow
you'll ask me why?
decennia ago he suddenly died
not of any stroke nor heart-ache
just wanna remember
that Today just One Day after the Northward Equinox
he'd have his celebrations
never congratulations anymore now
not today nor tomorrow
this is not a poem
just a statement
a human document
of one of the most gifted fathers
aquarelles, poetry or feuilletons
even performances at William's Theatre
his weekly sequels of the loving
and living Charlie Chan
besides earning much money
as the top-manager
of STANVAC, Jakarta
that big oil-office
with the red Pegasus
my Daddy climbed its back
and never returned
remembering his Birthday
emotionally on his epitaph
how odd
The Start of Spring
One Day Before his BirthDAY
the annual Northward Equinox
has just passed his graveyard
keep smiling is not here today
but grieving will be okay
he'd be no more a part of all celebrations
even though where he now is
he remains my Dearest Daddy and all there is
I remain, still with the greatest admiration
and his part of heart
still beats in mine....
Anno Domini 21 March 2018
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
Investors need to stop treating stocks as a ‘beauty contest’ and follow the difficult investment style of Keynes, global pension expert Keith Ambachtsheer said.
Data produced in a working paper from the Harvard Business Schoolshowed that portfolios built on firms with a good material sustainability rating outperformed those that had a poor rating, an aspect not considered enough by investors who were caught up with quarterly returns, Ambachtsheer said at a Chartered Financial Analyst seminar in Sydney on Monday.
“What I see happening out there is largely speculation – what Keynes called ‘beauty contest investing’, where everybody tries to figure out what the most popular stocks are going to be in six months, buys them and when they become really popular sells them,” Ambachtsheer said.
He added the implications of this investment style as an aggregate was a zero sum game, whereas investing should be taking savings and turning them into wealth producing capital.
“The key thing is you need to look beyond the next quarter; you look at the long-term sustainability of the business model of the corporation, as well as the people behind it in terms of how it is being managed.”
The Harvard Business School (HBS) working paper superimposed the Sustainability Accounting Standards Board materiality map (which identifies likely material sustainability issues on an industry-by-industry basis) onto 400 common US stocks identified through sustainability metrics from Kinder, Lydenberg, Domini Research & Analytics.
They examined what effect materiality would have over the long-term (starting from the 1980s) and found the top 10 per cent of firms that scored strongly on material sustainability outperformed the bottom 10 per cent, by nine per cent over a rolling twenty-year period.
“The practical question is, can you actually manage money this way in the real world? And the answer is yes, but it’s very hard, because you are doing unconventional things,” Ambachtsheer said.
Real-world Keynesianism investors – such as Warren Buffett and the Ontario Teachers’ Pension Plan – are in a minority despite outperforming over the long-term. In chapter 12 of his seminal workThe General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money, Keynes explained the reason for this was the essence of long-term investors meant their behaviour would be eccentric, unconventional and rash in the eyes of average opinion.
“Most organisations can’t function like this,” Ambachtsheer said, as they were too focused on the present.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/backless-formal-dresses
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC
Sono cresciuto in una terra strana
dopo che hai messo all'ombra la mia luce,
quasi non mossi piede dalla soglia
della mia meraviglia
per il dio nuovo cui tu m'opponevi.
In me cresceva il Dio dei miei domini
(ero ancora ragazzo)
ma tu mi hai rotto l'urlo ai vorticosi
margini della bocca,
l'urlo della potente giovinezza.
Mamma, io ti ringrazio
dalla rigida tomba entro cui siede
il mio pensiero finalmente puro.
Ora vedo che a forza mi hai strappato
il verde degli amari desideri,
mi hai edificato come l'architetto
sapiente che ritoglie chiari miti
dalle antiche macerie.
Nacqui umana rovina come tutti,
tu mi hai intessuta un'ala senza geli...
1.2k
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
August is a Yellow Flame
“That August was like a yellow flame”
Anna Ahkmatova, 1917 / Anno Domini MCMXXI /
III. The Voice of Memory
This August is indeed like a yellow flame
Death writhes among brown-burnt withering leaves
The grass is as sere as Macbeth’s acrid soul
And garden hoses drip in futility
The sun-bleached visage of Ozymandias
Might frown upon this blighted desert wrack
For not unlike the Ancient Mariner’s ghostly crew
The usages of summer drop and decay
But look!
But look above the last barren clouds in the west -
A tiny sliver of the promising moon
Aug 19, 2023
Aug 19, 2023 at 10:50 PM UTC
My age is less than your Jesus,
I was born 2 days before X-mas,
The year was 1990 Anno Domini.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
I saw you the other night
Sneaking at the back of my heart
I watched as you sparked a light
A light that had spread to a fire
It flicked like a fragile flame on a wick
I let it dance on the kindling of my heart
I let it scar me, whip me until I bled
Your fire twirled as my blood ran red
You stole the reins to my heart
You roused me, galvanized me
It skipped to the music of your voice
I grasped my heart on my hands
Bloodied, bruised, burned, but still beating
And with the beats, it told me
That it would be better shared with you
With you and only you
Embrace me with tenderness
Beguile me with splendor
Drown me in your passion
Intoxicate me with your love
Oh, please, make me believe
There's nothing wrong with this love
Such an unreasonable reality
This is not what I hoped for
But as long as I'm with you
I don't care about anything else.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
I wrote a poem
like a lonely woman
crying for someone
to make a gift of it
whoever passed by
dropped the well’s lid
without looking down
from too much yelling
my eyes got dry
I was blind
it was drought
the acacia grove whistled
for such waste
suddenly the wind
bent my crisscrossed arms
I breathed soul to soul
I cried tear from tear
someone left
without a word
my poem stuck to his soles
like dust
I tore a leaf and signed
I, anno domini
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
...laughs at me, as the distance between our shores greatens. Deep coldness, marbled with the warmer scarlets we've imbued in the flow. That distant shore has never seemed further away. Each attempt at crossing hits the rocks...Make mine a double, Evviva!
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
Nights when the Sun bereaves
The moon in between the graveyardshifts
He is boundless enlightening her
While her baits are never unleashed
Moon,"A Midas touch,
Burns who touches him as me.
He's the Anno Domini worshipped,
While I'm a mere eclipse.
Perennially furious,
I stare at him."
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 7:53 AM UTC
finally i am slain by
having my armpit sliced open (i feigned death the first time but
Death always knows.)
after death/
anno domini: **** me.
when you’re dead, he says,
you can **** god.
so i did.
how, then, did Death take me
by the hand (Death
in His neon green track suit)
to tell me something I already knew?
after death you can feel
only
pleasure not
pain and i guess that’s just
the cost
of a pound of flesh
an ounce
of virginal tears:
starkly they are abandoned by
the prison
industrial complex /montage it all goes
comes crashing
down like a game of mexican train
Planes crashing into trains crashing into cars &c.
into the chaos i am flung
atop a hill and there are five
rainbows, maybe more
as dozens of little silver
crosses are fired (don't get caught in the
shot up &
flipped they
land spectacularly on top of the hill. Huge
condors I mean huge
are circling. they hoist
things, possibly creatures,
up into the air but i didnt know
what they were.
a small child turns out to be the
culprit
i think through
mind control?
the other inhabitants of the
domino city ******
each other slowly
(The old lady next door donned
a green jumpsuit, snuck
into her neighbor's house,
and attempted to plant some
weird perhaps poisonous succulents
there.
knock knock—
interrupted & the knock
isn’t her neighbor
somehow she escapes.)
disposable people jump in front of a
semi. two women,
fighting tooth&nail,
make a sudden and tacit
suicide pact & jump
in front of a car together like
two virgins before
the bomb.
this is what triggers
the chain reaction of vehicular crashes.
there are phone calls.
cell phones die at critical mo-
ments. family: all three
siblings sing
(a karaoke version of) a song we didn't know at
a birthday celebration for
someone we didn’t know you
finger him and he
protests.
everything is probably a neurosis
And from somewhere comes the word "ratiocinative"
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 11:10 AM UTC
I’m drowning in your holy water
Though you got it from the tap.
I’d pray about it, but why bother?
I’d be just another kind of sap.
I’ve heard your words for a lifetime
And they still don’t make much sense.
They seem to support your lifestyle,
Earn you enough to pay your rents.
I’ve read your documentation through
And I’m not buying the whole deal.
It may sound good to people like you
But, I am convinced it is not real.
You take the words of millennia ago
And interpret them far too liberally.
You brag about caveman miracles
And quote from them too literally.
Then changes happened the time
That Yeshua guy hit the world stage
And things switched from god, to
The 'worship of a human being' age.
That’s a reversion back in time
To when we knew so little about
What lightning was and also how
Babies got started and came out.
Now, twenty one hundred years
After our Anno became Domini,
People are still bending down
To kiss a ring that means naught to me.
I have no trouble having reverence for
People who act like a holy spirit
But rockstar status for preachers?
I want nothing more to do with it.
As long as the poor and weak starve
Churches don’t need my wherewithal.
As long as the downtrodden suffer
True abomination is a huge cathedral.
I know this will offend some of you
Who find gods in the clouds comforting;
Believe slick tent preachers and priests
Deserving of mansions and gold trappings.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
a developed country is not a place where the poor have cars. it’s where the rich use public transport - paraphrased from enrique penalosa
it's also a place where the rich buy a beer bavaria
and a beer san migeul (bottled) at less than
the asked price of sigma £2.25
and the man buying the beers feels rich because
of the lax pax, on the slack - is where
even a poor man can feed the feeling of wealth,
the cashier accepted his spare change
of £2.19 and the man was left fed
with a nonchalence worth feeding akin to travel
among the sardines of sweat to his abode of mammon feeding.
so enthroned upon a saddle of a horse
as to garrison politicians into
being in game worth merely as pawns;
there too the peacock and swan shed
their wings to attract the ladies less
for the cuneiform quill with fingerprin than
simply for admiration and a vanity cleopatra
staged against augustus' cold shrug of shoulder
in armour worthy of any man ably imitating;
then i the one barren in choir to
the year one prior, uno pre anno domini;
i too took to trust via a hunting dog's eye
the dog tamed and affiliated with being made
familiar with a homesickness of the woods among the boar;
i took domestication in his step:
be fed, sleep, entertain... entertain, sleep, be fed...
what a horrid existence being so abhorred from the original
escapade, in the river of nerves strained to impulse
a quasi-tsunami to breach the shore and become
a gargantuan hunger to eat the geography into a mapping
of a rewrite.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
I found our new Earth
Together;
Our divine Love and Lord,
On this new world;
Our new Jerusalem,
Our new Oasis.
*** nostrae Telluris novum inveni:
Et Domini nostri divinam amore, de hoc mundo;
Nostra urbs Jerusalem,
Beata noster novus Oasis.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
O Fear of the Lord! Wisdom’s beginning!
Humbler of the exalted! Exalter
Of the humbled! Thou, when none from sinning
Have refrained, cause Vanity to falter
In its stride, giving us David’s psalter
So that we might gain the ability
To tread well the path of humility!
O Fear of the Lord! Creation’s reverence
For her Creator! You make the poor one’s
Trembling dread a bridge to span the severance
Which disobedience made between sons
And their Father; He who all evil shuns
And yet with haste will pardon the contrite
Heart, for His mercy is His truest might!
O Fear of the Lord! Give us instruction!
By thy teaching all presumption destroy,
Lest our conceit become an obstruction -
Let not our hubris the Most High annoy!
Teach us how best this wisdom to employ:
“Know, O man, that thou wert formed from the dust;
And at thy end, return to it you must!”
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 9:15 AM UTC
From my cell window
the cloister garth
could be seen
the clock chiming
each quarter of an hour,
campana sonus
est vox Domini,
Dom Charles instructing
on apple picking
how to do and not to do,
George hoovering
the cloister
we used big brooms once
Hugh said dust
everywhere even using
sawdust and water,
she was naked
and we made love
on her sofa,
Dio parla nel lavoro
the Italian monk said
as I clipped the high hedge
by the church,
sing with silvery voice
the canticle of love
Therese said
(saint that is),
I tolled the big bell
for the Angelus
as shown by Dom James
last time,
Dieu est ici dans
votre cœur
the French monk
told me tapping his chest
as we stood in the cloister
waiting for Vespers,
she knelt down
and said take me wildly
so I did,
the impudence
of the sinner said Bernard(Saint)
displeases God
as much as the modesty
of the penitent
gives him pleasure,
I fingered the feet
of the Crucified
on the wall in my room
disturbing the dust,
hören Gott
the Austrian monk said
den er hört,
true happiness is to enjoy
the present without
anxious dependence
upon the future
said Gareth quoting Seneca
as we sat
in the refectory
before the abbot came in,
I kissed each
part of her
my lips
on her skin.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 2:23 AM UTC
NON SERVIAM
Even at 7
found Catholic transubstantiation
hard to swallow.
Much preferred the Protestant
metaphor better.
The priest exposing the host
in the monstrance
the congregation bowing
in veneration.
"Corpus Domini nostri..."
Now...holy cow
Jesus is leaping
from the tip of my tongue
Christ...clinging
to my palate hanging
on for dear life
before going to pieces
slipping down my...gulp
. . .oe... soph...a...gus .
". . .In vitam eternam. Amen."
The incense from the thurible
as it sways
making me feel so
si...aghhhhh...ck!
Me a little Lucifer
a lightbringer ...my own morning star.
Afraid I am
going to throw
Him up
the second coming
as I sit in my pew and stew
transubstantiation is
the pits.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
Today is October 5th. Today is the day we repeat ourselves a year ago
repeat ourselves a year ago
repeat ourselves
a year ago
2010 Anno Domini
He was in a classroom gazing at the
Pacific range and mattering the
Earth
was greater than
Earth Science Science Objectivist study of the female genitalia
verbal coitus interuptus
ah who gives a rose?
Who gives a label?
Who gives?
Because I still don't get it.
Today is October 5th.
Today is the day
we repeat ourselves a year ago repeat ourselves a year ago repeat ourselves a year agoing going
gone
.
.
.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
Or Woman, Or Child, Or...
The following elucidated
conjecture actually can
(reed best) be taken with a grain
of salt, and no ban
nah nah split 'ope ya 'ere me
cloud and lear, cuz (Oh my...
heavens to Betsy), ennui
got pulled by Evan -
Jewel Lean, who handed this long fellow
(wads worth to you)
speculation with fan
see prestidigitation legerdemain - tan
ta mount to cheap tricks
re: out of thin air
by this half
fast hue man,
Hill Billy ***** Wonka Nilly,
who blithely doth asseverate
apothegm (poem title) equally applicable
Century21 today Aswan
**** maxim initially
bespoke, when collective
primates begat enfant terrible
foo fighting predetermining anon
metastasizing debacle Yeti
bedeviling civilization
a bajillion years in the future with
Matthew Scott Harris deadpan
words worth less his way
before even an odd iota
of dire straight sultan
of swing didst merely span
spottily scattered amidst
pristine Earth, where
unchanging arboreal
beastie boys to oman,
and flock of sea gulls
continuity elapsed – Ivan
hunch, albeit un
recorded disc contented sow
sow hogtied pan
dum mo' nee ham, or
blessed historical events,
kept (stay'n) alive,
courtesy"FAKE" Trump
petting Dapper Dan,
where he knit pattern,
qua oral tradition, sans clan
destine scattered hot pockets
of sparse **** sapiens,
i.e. humanity LESS preponderant,
primary, and/or prolific,
where superstitions parlayed
(voodoo with no Fran Schwa),
and whirling dervishes fed elan,
which earliest recorded (doctored,
digitized, and demented
oh yea), not
tomb mitt to dimly mentioned
asper "time and tide
wait for no man"
purportedly by one
Saint Marher, circa:
1225 anno domini.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 3:27 AM UTC
*i always thought that between life and death
i'd wake into one of my dreams...
the last dream i had, i was on an oil tanker,
and the sea was raging, waves as tall as colossus
of rhodes, feeding every tilt every turn,
waves as tall as the colossus of rhodes...
i'd rather die and sleep, than wake in one of these dreams.*
i woke and remembered
there was no whiskey left,
and realised i was to pull
through the night on will
alone, a few hours prior
i was sitting in a depth of
forest that allowed me to peer
into a street of passing traffic,
i started to sniff autumnal
leaves fallen, took to a young
tree and broke it in half,
peering at the scythe moon
encircling a fading globe of its fullest
example in between the extending
birch synapse oases, skeletons
of never attached to tendons and muscle,
if it sounds beautiful, it isn't,
there in the forest, the night,
the decaying scent of leaves...
i don't even think it's today, or yesterday,
or tomorrow, i think it's a never,
but it still happened,
but of course there's the rubric of
memorising a "distinguishable" monday,
when there isn't one, whether it's the month
of may or the month of march,
whether a digitalised two-thousand something
anno domini or preceding centuries of quote:
the dark ages, the renaissance, romanticism,
existentialism, don quixote all alone,
and something about chaucer the believer of
Alfred, the only mythical king of england /
i.e. only a few people deserve the logic of myth,
extending far into the abyss of time,
akin to the other logic (theology), which is
reserved for gods... who always seem to argue
their whereabouts with epileptic blinding spontaneousness:
just so someone can gain wealth by the non-existent argument.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC
In medieval England
The name of the feast
Being celebrated was joined
To the word “Mass”
and this became
The name of the day
For example
The feast of
St Michael is called
“Michaelmass”
The feast of the presentation
Because candles were blessed
On that day is called “candlemass”
Thus it is that in English
The feast of
The birth of Christ Is called
“Christmas “
in some other languages
Latin
“Dies Natalia Domini”
The birth of our Lord
German
”Weinacht”
Holy Night
Spanish
“La Navidad”
The Birthday
Polish
“Bose Narodzenie”
God’s Birth
I wonder how many people
Really know what Christmas is
And what it REALLY represents
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:25 AM UTC
/ o o o(h) my catherine!
and how the ****
did this happen?
walking to an off-lice,
allowing about three people
to exit,
and then she pops -
right into my face...
i'm like: huh?!
and she starts talking to me,
uninhibited (since she's tipsy) -
i really don't have
the language to explain in detail
what happened next...
i was looking at a woman,
but i was walking around
in a museum,
as she showed off her piercing
and
tattoos...
she asked me if i minded,
i said now,
and spoke of the sensitivity zeitgeist
currently gripping the mob...
clearly an opening line with
can i touch your beard?
sure.
so i extended my index and pinky
finger
while she showed me her
blatantly (i.e. in summer shorts)
exposed legs -
as we talked and i measured
something obscure...
the eye caught my attention
given the intricate detailing
of it on her: skin -
almost...
dispossessing her of a body...
hence: like i already said -
i was looking at a woman's body...
but i was walking inside a museum...
some madman in the background
was shouting slur words
coinciding with filth!
so i asked her to follow my eyes
in a language that reiterated:
don't mind the white noise...
and as her female friends implored her
to come with them,
i reiterated their plea with
a single finger raised to the air -
one more instance...
how often... can you actually part with
an absolute stranger,
having kissed their hand goodbye,
and later their forehead?
i thought she would know how
eastern europeans do... the "french thing"...
a man has the obligation to
kiss a woman's hand -
why are these english women
adamant to make a similar gesture?!
catherine didn't steal my heart:
she stole my gesture!
a woman isn't supposed
to kiss a man's hand!
a man is supposed to kiss a woman's hand!
no wonder i retaliated
by gently grabbing her head
and kissing her forehead...
it's not a ******* two way street
within the confines of kissing a hand!
and if it is?
**** that's dog talk:
don't bite the hand that feeds?!
what did i do afterwards?
bought two belgian beauties
(leffe)
and went into a darkened field,
just beside a curated
example of what a forest
might be...
in a perfurmery of
wheat, freshly cut crass
and horseshit...
farted into the earth, akimbo poised,
drank the belgian beauties
(anno domini 1240)...
slept for an hour,
woke up, and wrote this.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 10:00 PM UTC
Right use ONE'S servant
Infuse THY gifts grant
Grace refresh my soul
Heart reason flesh whole
Tune sync hymns praise
Enter within temple vase
Our FATHER in heavean
Unleaven Bread be given
Send HOLYGHOST within
O wineskin quench all
New drench within souls
Etch hearts write unrolls
According to THY WORD
LORD music into accord
Mind core broken record
Infinite's touch THY beat
GOD'S rhythm on repeat
Hearken hearts hear eat
THY thought work ways
Yesteryear length of days
Our plight JESUS mission
New sight CHRIST vision
ELOI ELOI Kyrie Eleison
ln sync LORD attune
Music WORD at noon
Melodies ode at tune
O riddles speaks poetry
Read all peaks valleys
To fulfill one's role
And give our whole
Life beat heart soul
Open hearts hear eat
Now reap read repeat
Ears deaf defeat feat
Imploring the aid of
My GOD My GOD
Manu Dei Vox Christi
Opus Dei Pax Domini
Rex Regum Vox Dei
Tov lehodot la'Adonai
Abba! Father! We cry
LORD Elyon Most High
Omega and the Alpha
Name above all Yeshua
EspirituSantoAnakAma
Have mercy on us
Only YOU we trust
LORD of lords JESUS
YHWH first and last
O LORD grant servant
Nothing I shall want
ELOI my only confidant
InstroMEnt REady to DO
Maestro no further aDO
Musiko fuego aDORE ME
Opening salvo LAamoRE
REtreatMEnt torn aid DO
Tune hum ME toDO
ADORE ripple LAamoRE
LuxMundi riddleREMEdy
O leaders to understand
Nations heal shakehands
Embedded LOVE bonds ❤️...lands...
Oct 8, 2024
Oct 8, 2024 at 2:00 AM UTC