"nero" poems
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.
The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.
I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!
The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.
And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.
Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .
“Ahhhh…”
I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!
“Ahhhh…”
Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .
How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .
Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
stupid actions and nothing new?
I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.
Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?
*I’m hardly worse than anyone else?* *
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
In Nero’s private stage,
Disaster was
His audience. Rome mimics fallen Troy in play.
What was reflected in Nero’s eyes
when he sang of the swirling patterns
of fire? When Rome was caught burning;
When conspiring led to its fall.
Fire engulfed Rome with fiery teeth.
The clouds hide or faint into black smoke.
The skies bleed heavily with rust
Its brassy color mixing with the
*** of burning seas, like oceans melting
Could you not feel the sun’s weight?
Now it is incomparable to
Molten seas and softened lead!
Blood spilt from sea-point, waves wallow the cries
Of the fallen. Like a bellowing sound marching
Against caverns of ears, Copper soldiers
Melt into clouds oozing with emotion,
Shattering their now empty metal hearts,
Hollow hearts that outlive the muteness.
It is awakened when
Spark and light is absent.
(Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal / June 26, 2009 - Alabang)
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 7:09 AM UTC
i've moved past my belief
in the Christian trinity...
for me...
the meditation stands
on the pivot of
the following translation
the hexagon,
start of david -
which translates
as the Holy Ghost -
which denotes
a congregation...
the pentagon?
of the befitting analogy
to the five senses...
the "son of man" -
or simply...
the myopia of man
having to excavate
the sixth sense
using telescopes,
microscopes, the like...
and, finally?
on a hand of five extensions,
there are four...
the square...
Y H
⠁⠑ read clockwise
like English traffic
H W on a roundabout.
which? denotes the father...
if the Hebrews "think" they
can hide their vowels?
the Latin answer is...
to interpolate Braille into
their language...
and Emperor Nero would have
appreciated it...
whether with, or without
the Byzantine propaganda machinery
of the nevus testamentum...
and it wasn't a propagandist
piece?
how much longer did the eastern
Empire, outlive the Western
empire, when the onslaught
by the Ottoman's reached
Constantinople?!
the Greek were craving
a cultural revival!
they believed the Romans
to have origins in Troy!
they plaid the weakest cultural
card of Judaism,
revamping it into Christianity...
hell... that's what i believe...
and i'm not about to meet
a Jehovah's Witness propagandist,
or some aged Pakistani
citing the Quran on a park
bench...
or some Scientologist
on Oxford St. with his wacky
machine...
or some pseudo Hare Krishna
monk with a book about
some guru, pushing it like
marijuana...
to change my mind on what
i'm digesting!
plus?
⠽ ⠓
Æ ( read anti-clockwise)
⠓ ⠺
fits in perfectly into the Adam
and Eve narrative -
as with all mythology -
given the extent of time...
nuance, metaphor...
abbreviation...
ars poetica!
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
In a city full of fake thugs and now record beef they just settle it with 8 slugs
There rose a kid from out of Rogers parkway who kicks slow flows containing dopamine in the bars I slay like Dre Day I'm celebrating out the melon insane like dry water the sheep I'll slaughter like a psychopathic ********** with a daughter
Allow me to introduce Nero The Damphir psychotic and I kick knowledge like a field goal my pen is spinning the rumpelillest gold causing static with the lyrical automatic I splatter brains on the floor it's a nasty habit to endure.
I'm Chicago's poet I spit knowledge and split spines with the rhymes so solid no one will notice I roll this ***** up like the best cest and smoke it unless you take it off the wax and into the turf I'll make you taste the salt of the earth and after you're in the dirt I'll bear you like Paul you have no chance at all against me the pen is all I need to destroy then employ my victims my rhymes stay within them like That dude they net in juvenile detention center I'm centric on hip-hop that is I got love for cold crush sugarhill grandmaster flash and whodini Wu-Tang naughty by nature and Cypress Hill
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
Nelle case, dove ancora
si ragiona coi vicini
presso al fuoco, e già la nuora
porta a nanna i suoi bambini,
uno in collo e due per mano;
pel camino nero il vento,
tra lo scoppiettar dei ciocchi,
porta un suono lungo e lento,
tre, poi cinque, sette tocchi,
da un paese assai lontano:
tre, poi cinque e sette voci,
lente e languide, di gente:
voci dal borgo alle croci,
gente che non ha più niente:
- Fate piano! Piano! Piano!
Non vogliamo saper nulla:
notte? Giorno? Verno? State?
Piano, voi, con quella culla!
Che non pianga il ***** Fate
piano! Piano! Piano! Piano!
Non vogliamo ricordare
vino e grano, monte e piano,
la capanna, il focolare,
mamma, bimbi... Fate piano!
Piano! Piano! Piano! Piano!
5.2k
The cranes flew and the city grew and what did I do?
put my head in the sand,
so I could no longer see the change that was happening all around me.
A land fit for heroes,city tycoons and wannabe Nero's and now't left in the stew *** for me or for you lot,
and how do you feel about that?
More money than sense and scant recompense for the builders who toil,who make the monsters that rise and eat up the soil, despoiling the land,more heads in the sand but holding out hands for that scant recompense.
Reconciling the bile in their throats with those city gent suits in their trilby's and coats and soldiering on until the earth is all gone.
A legacy indeed for them who would scramble in scrub land and grow things to feed the dysfunction of family,
what seeds we have sown,how defectively grown we've become and all for the buildings that greedily search out the sun,
somewhere up in the heights.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 5:06 AM UTC
Nero was not worried when he heard
the prophecy of the Delphic Oracle.
"Let him fear the seventy three years."
He still had ample time to enjoy himself.
He is thirty. More than sufficient
is the term the god allots him
to prepare for future perils.
Now he will return to Rome slightly tired,
but delightfully tired from this journey,
full of days of enjoyment --
at the theaters, the gardens, the gymnasia...
evenings at cities of Achaia...
Ah the delight of **** bodies, above all...
Thus fared Nero. And in Spain Galba
secretly assembles and drills his army,
the old man of seventy three.
4.4k
On an ebony bed decorated
with coral eagles, sound asleep lies
Nero --- unconscious, quiet, and blissful;
thriving in the vigor of flesh,
and in the splendid power of youth.
But in the alabaster hall that encloses
the ancient shrine of the Aenobarbi
how restive are his Lares.
The little household gods tremble,
and try to hide their insignificant bodies.
For they heard a horrible clamor,
a deathly clamor ascending the stairs,
iron footsteps rattling the stairs.
And now in a faint the miserable Lares,
burrow in the depth of the shrine,
one tumbles and stumbles upon the other,
one little god falls over the other
for they understand what sort of clamor this is,
they are already feeling the footsteps of the Furies.
4.2k
Living little less than the right way
I've turned all my friends to stone
Weary legs carry me
To the river
Wash off everything I've known
I've seen dead flowers on the way
And crowds of people all alone
No charity tempts me
To deliver
Now stinginess I don't condone
And I don't want to roam
Too far from my home
Don't want to leave it all away
The world seems small
When you have it all
Oh I wish that I could stay
When I arrived the river had frozen still
Ole Neptune saw no other way
If I could only find a little time
To ****
I'd be out here all the day
And I don't understand
Why I'm branded where I stand
Don't think you know how it might feel
It doesn't take
Much for a heart this cold to break
Without a hope ever to heal
And when you hear these words
Next life my friend
I don't know where I'll be then
If there's one thing
This world has shown
We borrow everything we own
Oh to reap what I have sewn
Oh to reap what I have sewn
Oh to reap what I have sewn
Oh to reap what I have sewn
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 6:29 PM UTC
She fell and broke her hip
Though that’s not what killed her
No, she fought long and hard to keep her sanity
A matriarch, the last matriarch
She never stood a chance
Through bouts of forgetfulness
She cringed as she sat
Wheelchair bound
Rolling with a fool’s smile
Talking nonsense like Nero must have
Playing his fiddle
Our family burned up but she never knew
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC
Nero: Deep cover another 187 on these hoes with my flows ya know I riddle like little Italy Punisher life Frank castle I slice ******* up like cattle I'm a lover but undercover like Eddie Griffin my brother I'll slice up ******* and leave they men in the trunk nervous with trauma twitches I'll cement up your shoes I'll use my pen to get the message to you headless hunters I'll be the soul edge and slice the heavens asunder I can feel it in my head and soul I'll reap with the flow and grow the flowers on the tombstone I'll make ya ***** moan and groan while I **** her in your stead while she gives me head I'm deciding who's the next to be blessed from the deliverer of death
DaSH: Kept the switchblade in a balled up fist
Probly ******
Off a lot of *******
But got longer lists
Like ******* who tasted blood soon after my ******* gotten licked
Threw up on my ****
And promptly dipped to get the shotgun grip
***** spit
Got me not wantin to work these long *** shifts
I know im sick
Smell my aroma tell its ebola when
I walk up in the room
Shut up talking and get a stronger whiff
Im the kid who was too demented to have gotten picked
For any extra curricular
Anyway I was busy plottin how to get to ya
Radio waves confuse em make em **** themselves
Silly me Billy Madison was happenin
And i was in the back with Chris Farley doin smack again
Rappers get smacked with used **** pads
A ****** *****
Is all I'll ever be in their eyes
But in mine,
All I see is bodies burning alive
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
lyrical rhymes, beats in epic time
dance around ten times the dime
that's beats per minute, 100 plus
wonderful noises reminiscent of us
dark poets sing of ravens and owls
while I sing of roars and howls
serenades in escalades, roll down the powershades
Dubstep beat-drops, guitar string heart-throbs
all of them blast through my Skullcandy's
dance the dance of wine and brandy
drunken and wild and not so mild
spark animal instincts, to hunt and mate
mangled sheets and broken beds
lie below the newlyweds
as the saxophone and trombone
softly sweep around their home
Deadmau5, Skrillex and Nero
party hard to Guitar Hero
while I slave over my laptop
listening to the beat drop.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
Nero kicks Vespasian
1
Nero plays the lyre
He’s Emperor
so all must admire
but Vespasian goes to sleep
so Nero exiles Vespasian
and poor Vespasian now minds the bees
*I am the Emperor
and all must admire
when I sing
or play the lyre
for I’m also a god...*
Time kicks Nero
2
But Nero goes to extremes
Rome burns, Nero kills
and soon events turn against him
and the Senate declares him
Enemy of the State
and Nero kills himself;
and the beekeeper Vespasian
through events played staccato by time
becomes Emperor Vespasian
and begins construction of the Colosseum
*And Emperors too die
and I think I’m dying
Hey - help me up
for an Emperor must die on his feet
And hey! you know what?
I think I too am becoming a god!*
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 5:46 AM UTC
.
The oceans are dying,
Coral reefs are bleached,
Ghostly acidic in the seas,
Climate is changing, not for Nero,
But for subjects who wait in whirlwinds
Eye, underneath uncapped mountain peaks,
And water is draining underground. Where is
Reason, where is sense uncommon? Not with
Elected hands who are wringing to lords of zero,
Whose legions are sent off, engaged in foreign wars,
To scathe, faraway dramas brought back home,
Politicians squabble, as they reel, cashing in,
Seals of unapprovals, witness hollow, low rings,
Infrastructure crumbles, above our dry heads,
And Nero plays his fiddle, in a land of perky dead,
John Lennon said NYC was in reality the new
Rome, soon set to burn, in a decade or so,
Nero knows, Nero plays, could give a feck'
Humanity is Nero playing his fiery fiddle
There is only one issue of news that matters,
Not bread, or circus, Kardashians, or deflated
Footballs, it is our survival, the earth, heating up,
Is angry and we are small, deaf, blind and numb,
A mankind of fools with Nero playing his fiddle.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Nero was an Emperor
A very unkind one
He wanted everything as he planed
He decided to burn down a city
Which people really loved
Nero burnt down the city and got the blame
Was Nero going to be blamed forever?
NO!
He then accused the Christians
The innocent Christians did nothing wrong
But still got the blame
So Nero persuaded the people and them it was the Christians
Who caused the fire
But it wasn’t true
And then came the persecution of the Christians.
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 8:03 AM UTC
'A triangle on the mount of mercury
is certainly an auspicious sign'
Thumping percussion of a native beat
in my head, a gyrating hindsight
The evening streams down pouring
streaks of grey and mangled orange
Walking past a bicycle chained to railings
front wheel mangled into a rough square
Squaring a circle, huh? How did that happen?
two thumps and a sonant beat...and again...
I see you sipping latte by Nero.
Mangled, stream out of your eyes
many coloured triangles
rushing, wheeling at me.
Vibrant beat, gyrating bottoms.
The mercury is soaring. Ululations.
The night-witch has charmed the city in her cloak.
Stars, oh, I see mangled triangles out of her hat.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
I.
Everything meets
in the middle,
all that is
and was
and done
or said
eventually.
So they say while
the fulcrum creaks
and the lever sags.
That’s where
they’ve
lost there way.
Take two magnets and
try to push them together
to meet at center, instead
they slide from side to side
and go around, no force
can bring them together.
I say everything
that goes around
comes back this way,
the wrong way,
to haunt or remind us
but never to the middle,
never offering peace.
Maybe that's why
some say suicide
is a valid option,
as if to trick
the sacred balance,
sneak up on
magnetic rejection
and force your way
to center.
Sometimes I dwell
on the mystery of
Golden Gate.
Such a sacred place,
the breeze, the sun,
her hypnotic beauty
and the fact that
no one jumps at
night.
II.
Nero: "Jax, do you believe in Karma?"
Jax: "Not today"
But I believe.
I believe because
I have lived it.
My Karma is Grace
and I can’t tell you
how many times she
has found me,
always where I didn’t go willingly,
dragged by a massive darkness
and held up high while the weight
of death sat across the divide
on the other end of the teeter-totter.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
IF I should pass the tomb of Jonah
I would stop there and sit for awhile;
Because I was swallowed one time deep in the dark
And came out alive after all.
If I pass the burial spot of Nero
I shall say to the wind, "Well, well!"-
I who have fiddled in a world on fire,
I who have done so many stunts not worth doing.
I am looking for the grave of Sinbad too.
I want to shake his ghost-hand and say,
"Neither of us died very early, did we?"
And the last sleeping-place of Nebuchadnezzar-
When I arrive there I shall tell the wind:
"You ate grass; I have eaten crow-
Who is better off now or next year?"
Jack Cade, John Brown, Jesse James,
There too I could sit down and stop for awhile.
I think I could tell their headstones:
"God, let me remember all good losers."
I could ask people to throw ashes on their heads
In the name of that sergeant at Belleau Woods,
Walking into the drumfires, calling his men,
"Come on, you ... Do you want to live forever?"
2.5k
.*pre-scriptum alternatives... either a bus-driver... or a garbage-man... ha ha... Leibniz... was a ******* librarian!*
a zookeeper,
a warden in a prison...
or some obscure,
accolade role
in an asylum...
i'm being pushed the role
of a chemistry teacher...
mind you... i know that the best
way to pet cats,
is to "ignore" them,
let them play their
solipsistic hide & seek game
with plain view of the target...
but i'm thinking of 3 dream jobs...
horticulture isn't an option...
must be the sort of man
with a floral pattern
rather than a sky-scraper
in my underwear
to provide gender
exclusive role play...
whatever the hell the means...
but teaching children
chemistry?
d'ah ****
i want to be on the forefront...
a gorilla zookeeper,
a prison warden,
an accolade
for what's the upper tier
of nursing,
namely, inside an asylum...
but i won't ever get a chance
to prospect myself for such roles...
hence the poetry...
given that i'm a chronic drunk
in England, but a sober
sparrow in Poland...
come to think of it...
i'm ever only drunk,
when i start talking...
alone, drinking?
i can catch a judge
play-thing sober...
but those are my dream
jobs...
and in all three instances...
none, are advertised for
potential applicants...
like a safe pass into a business of
past, trans-generational funeral homes...
just like they said:
it's not what you know,
it's who you know -
unless of course there's a merger,
and you're thinking
about emperor Nero stabbing
himself in the neck...
within the confines of a self
acknowledgment, "question".
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
i care, i really do...
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha...
no, i do...
i'm trying...
ha ha...
i'm just imagining what
that one word
looks like in Hebrew...
the...
ha-shem...
i.e.
the-name....
laughing, but at the same time
saying the definite article
over, and over, and over again...
the the the the... v'eh v'eh v'eh...
"point"?!
what point?!
calling a cactus a *******
cactus?
or calling it
an semiticl headscarf?
which is which?
a skirt just covering
the knee?!
better ask your women
to wear gloves...
i seem to enjoy the fact
that the most ****** part of
a woman, are her hands...
geisha hands...
and wrists i could look
at like i might an enjoy an hour
with a bottle of wine...
aha!
tell me...
what's the difference between
a didgeridoo...
and a modern, nordic shamanic chant
akin to to the berserker warcry
in one of
heilung's song,
notably
alfadhirhaiti
where the audience go mad
with fervor & fury...
because didn't you know,
they say:
don't take to d.n.a. ancestor testing,
watch what you absorb culturally...
from what i heard...
the ugly vikings founded
the city of Kiev,
so they must have passed past my parts...
hidden Baltic -
grazing mother of soured milk
that intermediates
a stasis prior to yogurt -
no wolves in england...
i'll pet a a fox therefore...
scoop and swoon -
the baronical patience of
a shadow admirer.;
even if the Jews have abandoned
Europe...
what the left?
is beside the origin of what
the crucifix constitutes...
even if the Jews abandoned
Europe, what they pressed was
the antagonism of Greece -
they pursued ancient Greece -
until the world, and all matters Latin -
stood to understand -
the Jews left Europe,
abandoning the pursuit of Greek -
penitent people, noble people...
until the library of Nag Hammadi
emerged from
the sands of both time,
and Egypt...
noble people... penitent people...
these Israelites -
these Jobs of disgruntled time -
Hiob, Yob, Hiob, Job...
i am barren in wanting to "forgive"
the Jews...
how they pursued ancient Greek
to avenge the emergence of
the Second Troy in Rome...
with Rome...
no Greek will stand on these words
with an Achilles heel...
the Jews pursued the Greek
revisionism of their testament
long enough...
as what Nero found hilarious...
i take to wind and soul with
a drunk mind,
but a sober heart.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
I am the ******* son of Nero,
the sad product of licentiousness.
A fact about my life
that I should really mention less.
My mother was a famous Queen
or so it is that I am told.
Unable to acknowledge me,
to the slavers I was sold.
But pirates attacked our galley
a few miles out to sea.
Bold, daring, fearsome men,
their life appealed to me.
Plundering, fighting on a ship,
I loved the pirates life.
Until one day I floundered
and took me a beautiful wife.
She bore me two boys and a girl,
I gave them all my affection.
Mourning the loss of my childhood,
my severed parental connection.
The children grew and flew the nest,
so leaving just two alone.
Then the plague paid a visit,
my grief weighs heavy for my home.
So now I am just a humble poet,
Withdrawn and cold, but serene.
Throwing words at a paper audience,
waiting patient for the final scene.
Well, wait there a while longer,
this ******* is not quite done.
I am not so ready to die just now,
that epilogue is yet to come.
© Pagan Paul (19/04/17)
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
(Plaster cast at Pompeii)
[THE TOUR GUIDE]
*“Ladies and gentlemen, here we are at Pompeii's
fabled Thermal Baths where heated water was
passed through duct work in the walls. One can
imagine Nero himself stopping here on one of
his visits.”*
[BONITO]
Bonito stepped out of the bathhouse and looked up.
Vesuvius rumbled - shaking ash and fire skyward.
Breaking into a run he sought the south road,
glancing back anxiously at the
vast dark cloud billowing down the mountain.
*"The principal city roads were recessed
and wagons were required to have standardized
wheelbases and clearances to fit in channels cut
into the stone. Follow me please to the residential
area.”*
He gained the road and his feet
pounded the stones of the “via stabiana.”
The cloud multiplied and fell on the city.
Ever deepening layers of ash clogged Benito’s path.
Heart pounding in his chest he lengthened his strides.
*“Leaving the opulent villas with their spacious
atria, we now enter the market area where we
shall see a display of remarkable interest. During
excavations, empty spaces were discovered in
the ash deposits.”*
The rising ash captured his left leg.
Bonito inhaled the fiery air and ******
forward into a burst of falling soot
but was unable to finish his stride.
*“Archaeologists poured plaster into the voids
revealing the outlined bodies of Pompeiins
trapped in their final moments. Take, for example,
this man caught in mid-step with no time
to escape the life choking dust.”*
June, 2006
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
Shon Goku Setsu, cleanly translated
Means "The Wrath of the Raging Demon"
I happen to have one following me
And much like a corrupt politician, it's constantly schemin
Some days I awake with a spring in my step
Others I have to force myself up
Some days I want to drink all life has to offer
Some days I can't even lift up the cup
I'm sick of being miserable! I'm sick of writing about it!
DA-N IT DEMON I HAVE DREAMS TO CHASE DOWN AND GOALS TO ACCOMPLISH
"Shut up Nero! misery is all you know!"
This demon won't relent, directing me into channeling the Satsui No Hado
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 6:25 PM UTC
I'm a small pebble
making a giant ripple
A speck of black sand
on a coral white beach
The left foot
kicking up a storm
A hermit, a drifter
a paradigm shifter
I am a disruptive
not a destructive force
I think outside of the box because inside I'm lost
I've been Nero, DaVinci
Neruda, Dali
burned as a witch
and now I'm just me....
a small pebble
making a giant ripple
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 9:47 AM UTC