"monarchic" poems
The Israelites (/ˈɪzriəlaɪts/; Hebrew: בני ישראל Bnei Yisra'el)
were a confederation of Iron Age
Semitic-speaking tribes of the ancient Near East
inhabiting parts of Canaan during the tribal & monarchic periods;
Modern archaeology has largely discarded
the historicity of the Jewish religious narrative;
re-framing it as constituting an inspired national myth:
The Israelites & their culture according to modern
archaeological accounts,
did not overtake the region by force,
instead branching out from the indigenous [Canaanite peoples
long inhabiting the Southern Levant, Syria,
ancient Israel, and the Trans-Jordan region]
through the development of a distinct _monolatristic_—
[_Monolatry_ (Greek: μόνος (monos) = single,
and λατρεία (latreia) = worship) is the belief
in the existence of many gods but with the
consistent worship of the one deity; the term
"monolatry" was perhaps first used
by Julius Wellhausen;
Modern scholars of Israel's religion have
become much more circumspect in how
they use the Old Testament; not least
because many have concluded the Bible
is not a reliable witness to the true religion
of ancient Israel and Judah; representing
the beliefs of only a small segment of the
ancient community _centered in Jerusalem_
& devoted to the exclusive worship
of the god "Yahweh": Monolatry is
distinct from monotheism,
which asserts the existence of only one god;
and henotheism, a religious system in which
the believer worships one god w/out denying
that others may worship different gods with
equal validity]; later cementing as a monotheistic religion
centered on Yahweh, one of the Ancient Canaanite deities;
the outgrowth of Yahweh-centric beliefs
along with a number of cult practices
gradually gave rise to a distinct Israelite
ethnic group setting them apart
from the other Canaanites
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
[Las Meninas, Oil on Canvas, 1656, Prado, Madrid]
I am the first proud pronoun I
against the fear of my invisibility
each morning rising from
minor nobility like my parents
(no son of a converso – lies –)
into the light of mastery;
now as a Knight of Santiago
- the king himself painted the cross
you see in Las Meninas -
nobilitas is in the faces
royal with ancient lines
(you understand I did not
trade
am Moorish of Seville
and Portugal).
Not from the mind but back
into its expectation.
I see the work reflected
into the lens of sense
to supplement the work into the real
express itself by what
a slavish love of detail cannot supply
it was the power
to give them what they did not see
the scorn in lips
from ****** generations
bought by my brush
among them into monarchic trade
and what they thought as glory,
dwarves and all larger than life.
that painted me so high
those royal portraits by the score
keyed to the colour of fame
silvered and golden
mine.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 7:11 AM UTC
Monarchic Rant
Though I was born in Britain
I am not a 'Brit'
I do not fit in
Their houses are so cold
Because they are too cheap
To turn up the ****** heat
I find some of them deceitful,
They self-righteously pretend
To be serene
And peaceful
But love to fight
All over the world
Blasting other beings
Into the netherworld
Tied to tradition
They insist
On going against the global grain
They weigh in stones
And still drive on the wrong
****** side of the road
They sing 'God Save The Queen'.
God has more common sense
He believes the word 'Excellency'
A too commonly used currency
Slapped, like a hat
On the head of a simple aristocrat
God save the common people
Living under too many thumbs
Of pretentious and powerful people,
With utterly obscene incomes
Sean Hunt Windermere Dec. 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
Federal sounds
Oligarchic beeps
Monarchic shouts
and Presidential pleads
are the core of the beat
the beat of the World
they unite all the poor
lift chores from the rich
they are children in the sand
stealing toys on demand
the classical war
rocks gently to the sky
birds are the remix
to the pain in our lives
red buttons shining bright
playing blues in the light
pause is a lie
no time to rest eyes
the stick hits the drum
and paces with the jive
now dance around the fire
give in to the desire
and laugh about the joke
that humans are Creators
and Destroyers of the Folk.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
All lives matter
the madder I get
At the matter of public opinion
madness of this meteorological rise
Defies logic and the projects have become project
For white bourgeois hipsters in tight pants
Which maddens me further –
Mothers in moccasins mobilize
In Mobile, Alabama
Misrepresenting the million man march
As a method to success
Monarchic movement
Mitigated by the masses
Is madness –
Medicated and misguided muthafuckers
Maligned and misinformed
Marry in May during the full moon
To better understand Mormon culture
And the issues with lead
In Flint, Michigan –
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
"
The light we dread on the path we tread,
Scorched by the morals we misuse.
Misread the darkness, our hearts distressed,
Mocked by the values we choose,
Led astray by the prophecies of disharmony.
Heralds of the Righteous, deaf to hideous cries,
Sombre pleas linger, unseen in the abyss.
Angels seek refuge in hell from our treachery,
Watching disdainfully the absurdity we create,
While Demons, now praying for salvation,
Witness the tragic fall of humanity.
Instruments of war masquerade as peace,
Tormenting the innocent’s fragile ease.
A nation built on unity’s roar,
Now silenced by the lies of the false majority,
As citizens, evicted by leaders once upheld,
Fall victim to the very mother they served.
The tranquil ocean of individuals,
Swept away by the puddle of atrocities.
The gavel of justice hammers the innocent,
While the illustrious clowns, adorned in lustrous lies, roam free.
As avatars of Themis fall to Eris' tempting kiss,
Our heroes, once righteous, now stab us in the back with monarchic bliss.
While the poor laugh abundantly at their chains,
The rich weep for sovereignty that wanes.
Failure is the epitome of success,
While schools terrify us to death,
Teaching the race between ending a valuable life
And the finish line of a hollow diploma.
Yet in hallowed halls, they preach dismay,
As arguments and debates suffocate the air,
In this world already choked by toxic despair.
The masks of leadership conceal deceit,
As false ideals march beneath victory's flag.
And when the hands that build also destroy,
Philosophy, once pure and guiding,
Now teaches Angels the art of demonology.
"
-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
Oct 9, 2024
Oct 9, 2024 at 8:41 PM UTC
I noodled my childhood,
Glued it on some diary
Spooks overflowed
And came out suddenly.
With monarchic wings,
And petal eyes
Gazed back, and pinged.
I succumbed twice.
"Whatever you wrote is a lie"
Confronted one roaring voice
It disappeared in pages again
I started to feel calm, at ease.
I gave it another shot, recalled,
I had seen him somewhere before,
'Did we meet in childhood?'
Question banged on my door
Of course, "No".
I never met him before,
How can I forget,
I never had a childhood!
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC