Non Draco Sit Mihi Dux 1

That wicked liar offers us a poisoned cup
In whose sheeny surface we see ourselves
Reflected in his cold imaginings
And not our own, in what we ought to be

There is another Cup for us, not this one
Just as there is a stone that must be moved
A bird of night to be repudiated
A thorny bush that burns, but not itself

A blessing breaks that false and bitter cup -
We share the one that God has lifted up


1 In English, let not the dragon be my guide; it appears on the medal of Saint Benedict as NDSMD.

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then candidates would have to pay a fee
Each time they appeal to the glorious past
When standing for the election, the proceeds
To fall like ****** weregeld on the dead
Who can never cash the checks anyway

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then Hollywood movies should pay their dues
Whenever a bold, scripted commando,
Body-waxed muscles glistening with makeup,
Advances up Hamburger-Helper Hill
With a patriotic song on his lipstick

If wars were subject to a copyright –
The generals’ memoirs, the admirals’, too,
Would pay to lighten the blighted young lives
Of soul-fragmented lads whose pain and blood
Won the air-conditioned another star
And unctuous applause at the officers’ club

If wars were subject to a copyright -
The President would have to pay his bill
Each time he bangs the lectern for a war,
That glorious dux bellorum dux-ing
From the rear, while a squadron of pigs fly
Above, powered by pixie-dust and smoke

If Wars were Subject
to Copyright

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then candidates would have to pay a fee
Each time they appeal to the glorious past
When standing for the election, the proceeds
To fall like ****** manna on the dead
Who can never cash the checks anyway

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then Hollywood movies should pay their dues
Whenever a bold-scripted commando,
Body-waxed muscles glistening with makeup,
Advances up Hamburger-Helper Hill
With a patriotic song on his lipstick

If wars were subject to a copyright –
The generals’ memoirs, the admirals’, too,
Would pay to lighten the blighted young lives
Of soul-fragmented lads whose pain and blood
Gave the air-conditioned another star
And unctuous applause at the officers’ club

If wars were subject to a copyright -
The President would have to pay his bill
Each time he banged the lectern for a war,
The glorious dux bellorum dux-ing
From the rear, while a squadron of pigs fly
Above, powered by pixie-dust and dreams

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then candidates would have to pay a fee
Each time they appeal to the glorious past
When standing for the election, the proceeds
To fall like ****** weregeld on the dead
Who can never cash the checks anyway

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then Hollywood movies should pay their dues
Whenever a bold, scripted commando,
Body-waxed muscles glistening with makeup,
Advances up Hamburger-Helper Hill
With a patriotic song on his lipstick

If wars were subject to a copyright –
The generals’ memoirs, the admirals’, too,
Would pay to lighten the blighted young lives
Of soul-fragmented lads whose pain and blood
Won the air-conditioned another star
And unctuous applause at the officers’ club

If wars were subject to a copyright -
The President would have to pay his bill
Each time he banged the lectern for a war,
That glorious dux bellorum dux-ing
From the rear, while a squadron of pigs fly
Above, powered by pixie-dust and smoke

My skin is melting away,
Why not?
I’m only a mile away from the sun.
What’s this, I’m still alive.
But I’m supposed to be dead.
Treachery I shout.
Your were the treacle to the venom,
That once resided in me.
I can feel the blade of the sword,
Wrenching through every vital vein in me.
As I can continue to draw nigh to the sun.
My senses I already lost a long time ago.
Though the pain does exist.
The heat didn’t matter I really didn’t care.
I stayed through it all but you seem so unaware.
You threw me this far,
Because I allowed you too.
I wanted it,
But  I didn’t see the death in your eyes view.
The dux hidden away from the sun.
Once more I lie within the darkest shadows of the soul.
Revealed to the very light of my own shadow.
The sun my body with one I’m now immune.

©

Astrum, lux caeleste et clarus
Princeps aetheres et spes
Dux meus in aeternum

Rough translation:
Stars, light celestial and clear
Ruler of skies and hope
Guide me for eternity

With the inhalation of bullets,
as a diversion and a force to forget,
and have a neglection of
the one baptized as supreme,
then yells exigency at the pointless.

all and sundry overhead
are run by the dullards,
whose power was never absolute,
had an opportunity to resolute.

Beloved land of democracy,
whom produced kakistocracy.

To all and sundry dux:
“ad infernum apud vos”

One, Two Four
Life can be a bore
I hardly hear myself snore
If you don't like me, hit the door
You're a tourist, I'm the detour
It's not because my favorite number is four
It's because I have no luck
I am the cement that never leaves the truck
The person that thinks he is decent but really *****
My mind is in a constant flux
If misfortune was normally regular, mine would be a Deluxe
I like game shirts, but I'll gladly wear a tux
My last name isn't Dux
But I like to feel like my situation is rare
I know that statement is bare
With logic
Maybe I should ask the Tajiks