--To Rudyard Kipling


The Sword
Singing--
The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword
Clanging imperious
Forth from Time's battlements
His ancient and triumphing Song.

In the beginning,
Ere God inspired Himself
Into the clay thing
Thumbed to His image,
The vacant, the naked shell
Soon to be Man:
Thoughtful He pondered it,
Prone there and impotent,
Fragile, inviting
Attack and discomfiture;
Then, with a smile--
As He heard in the Thunder
That laughed over Eden
The voice of the Trumpet,
The iron Beneficence,
Calling his dooms
To the Winds of the world--
Stooping, He drew
On the sand with His finger
A shape for a sign
Of his way to the eyes
That in wonder should waken,
For a proof of His will
To the breaking intelligence.
That was the birth of me:
I am the Sword.

Bleak and lean, grey and cruel,
Short-hilted, long shafted,
I froze into steel;
And the blood of my elder,
His hand on the hafts of me,
Sprang like a wave
In the wind, as the sense
Of his strength grew to ecstasy;
Glowed like a coal
In the throat of the furnace;
As he knew me and named me
The War-Thing, the Comrade,
Father of honour
And giver of kingship,
The fame-smith, the song-master,
Bringer of women
On fire at his hands
For the pride of fulfilment,
Priest (saith the Lord)
Of his marriage with victory
**! then, the Trumpet,
Handmaid of heroes,
Calling the peers
To the place of espousals!
**! then, the splendour
And glare of my ministry,
Clothing the earth
With a livery of lightnings!
**! then, the music
Of battles in onset,
And ruining armours,
And God's gift returning
In fury to God!
Thrilling and keen
As the song of the winter stars,
**! then, the sound
Of my voice, the implacable
Angel of Destiny!--
I am the Sword.

Heroes, my children,
Follow, O, follow me!
Follow, exulting
In the great light that breaks
From the sacred Companionship!
****** through the fatuous,
****** through the fungous brood,
Spawned in my shadow
And gross with my gift!
****** through, and hearken
O, hark, to the Trumpet,
The ****** of Battles,
Calling, still calling you
Into the Presence,
Sons of the Judgment,
Pure wafts of the Will!
Edged to annihilate,
Hilted with government,
Follow, O, follow me,
Till the waste places
All the grey globe over
Ooze, as the honeycomb
Drips, with the sweetness
Distilled of my strength,
And, teeming in peace
Through the wrath of my coming,
They give back in beauty
The dread and the anguish
They had of me visitant!
Follow, O follow, then,
Heroes, my harvesters!
Where the tall grain is ripe
****** in your sickles!
Stripped and adust
In a stubble of empire,
Scything and binding
The full sheaves of sovranty:
Thus, O, thus gloriously,
Shall you fulfil yourselves!
Thus, O, thus mightily,
Show yourselves sons of mine--
Yea, and win grace of me:
I am the Sword!

I am the feast-maker:
Hark, through a noise
Of the screaming of eagles,
Hark how the Trumpet,
The mistress of mistresses,
Calls, silver-throated
And stern, where the tables
Are spread, and the meal
Of the Lord is in hand!
Driving the darkness,
Even as the banners
And spears of the Morning;
Sifting the nations,
The **** from the metal,
The waste and the weak
From the fit and the strong;
Fighting the brute,
The abysmal Fecundity;
Checking the gross,
Multitudinous blunders,
The groping, the purblind
Excesses in service
Of the Womb universal,
The absolute drudge;
Firing the charactry
Carved on the World,
The miraculous gem
In the seal-ring that burns
On the hand of the Master--
Yea! and authority
Flames through the dim,
Unappeasable Grisliness
Prone down the nethermost
Chasms of the Void!--
Clear singing, clean slicing;
Sweet spoken, soft finishing;
Making death beautiful,
Life but a coin
To be staked in the pastime
Whose playing is more
Than the transfer of being;
Arch-anarch, chief builder,
Prince and evangelist,
I am the Will of God:
I am the Sword.

The Sword
Singing--
The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword
Clanging majestical,
As from the starry-staired
Courts of the primal Supremacy,
His high, irresistible song.

The church flings forth a battled shade
Over the moon-blanched sward:
The church; my gift; whereto I paid
My all in hand and hoard;
Lavished my gains
With stintless pains
To glorify the Lord.

I squared the broad foundations in
Of ashlared masonry;
I moulded mullions thick and thin,
Hewed fillet and ogee;
I circleted
Each sculptured head
With nimb and canopy.

I called in many a craftsmaster
To fix emblazoned glass,
To figure Cross and Sepulchure
On dossal, boss, and brass.
My gold all spent,
My jewels went
To gem the cups of Mass.

I borrowed deep to carve the screen
And raise the ivoried Rood;
I parted with my small demesne
To make my owings good.
Heir-looms unpriced
I sacrificed,
Until debt-free I stood.

So closed the task. “Deathless the Creed
Here substanced!” said my soul:
“I heard me bidden to this deed,
And straight obeyed the call.
Illume this fane,
That not in vain
I build it, Lord of all!”

But, as it chanced me, then and there
Did dire misfortunes burst;
My home went waste for lack of care,
My sons rebelled and curst;
Till I confessed
That aims the best
Were looking like the worst.

Enkindled by my votive work
No burnng faith I find;
The deeper thinkers sneer and smirk,
And give my toil no mind;
From nod and wink
I read they think
That I am fool and blind.

My gift to God seems futile, quite;
The world moves as erstwhile;
And powerful Wrong on feeble Right
Tramples in olden style.
My faith burns down,
I see no crown;
But Cares, and Griefs, and Guile.

So now, the remedy? Yea, this:
I gently swing the door
Here, of my fane—no soul to wis—
And cross the patterned floor
To the rood-screen
That stands between
The nave and inner chore.

The rich red windows dim the moon,
But little light need I;
I mount the prie-dieu, lately hewn
From woods of rarest dye;
Then from below
My garment, so,
I draw this cord, and tie

One end thereof around the beam
Midway ‘twixt Cross and truss:
I noose the nethermost extreme,
And in ten seconds thus
I journey hence—
To that land whence
No rumour reaches us.

Well: Here at morn they’ll light on one
Dangling in mockery
Of what he spent his substance on
Blindly and uselessly!…
“He might,” they’ll say,
“Have built, some way,
A cheaper gallows-tree!”

1 Kings 6 King James Version (KJV)

6 And it came to pass in the four hundred and eightieth year after the children of Israel were come out of the land of Egypt, in the fourth year of Solomon's reign over Israel, in the month Zif, which is the second month, that he began to build the house of the Lord.

2 And the house which king Solomon built for the Lord, the length thereof was threescore cubits, and the breadth thereof twenty cubits, and the height thereof thirty cubits.

3 And the porch before the temple of the house, twenty cubits was the length thereof, according to the breadth of the house; and ten cubits was the breadth thereof before the house.

4 And for the house he made windows of narrow lights.

5 And against the wall of the house he built chambers round about, against the walls of the house round about, both of the temple and of the oracle: and he made chambers round about:

6 The nethermost chamber was five cubits broad, and the middle was six cubits broad, and the third was seven cubits broad: for without in the wall of the house he made narrowed rests round about, that the beams should not be fastened in the walls of the house.

7 And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither: so that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.

8 The door for the middle chamber was in the right side of the house: and they went up with winding stairs into the middle chamber, and out of the middle into the third.

9 So he built the house, and finished it; and covered the house with beams and boards of cedar.

10 And then he built chambers against all the house, five cubits high: and they rested on the house with timber of cedar.

11 And the word of the Lord came to Solomon, saying,

12 Concerning this house which thou art in building, if thou wilt walk in my statutes, and execute my judgments, and keep all my commandments to walk in them; then will I perform my word with thee, which I spake unto David thy father:

13 And I will dwell among the children of Israel, and will not forsake my people Israel.

14 So Solomon built the house, and finished it.

15 And he built the walls of the house within with boards of cedar, both the floor of the house, and the walls of the ceiling: and he covered them on the inside with wood, and covered the floor of the house with planks of fir.

16 And he built twenty cubits on the sides of the house, both the floor and the walls with boards of cedar: he even built them for it within, even for the oracle, even for the most holy place.

17 And the house, that is, the temple before it, was forty cubits long.

18 And the cedar of the house within was carved with knops and open flowers: all was cedar; there was no stone seen.

19 And the oracle he prepared in the house within, to set there the ark of the covenant of the Lord.

20 And the oracle in the forepart was twenty cubits in length, and twenty cubits in breadth, and twenty cubits in the height thereof: and he overlaid it with pure gold; and so covered the altar which was of cedar.

21 So Solomon overlaid the house within with pure gold: and he made a partition by the chains of gold before the oracle; and he overlaid it with gold.

22 And the whole house he overlaid with gold, until he had finished all the house: also the whole altar that was by the oracle he overlaid with gold.

23 And within the oracle he made two cherubims of olive tree, each ten cubits high.

24 And five cubits was the one wing of the cherub, and five cubits the other wing of the cherub: from the uttermost part of the one wing unto the uttermost part of the other were ten cubits.

25 And the other cherub was ten cubits: both the cherubims were of one measure and one size.

26 The height of the one cherub was ten cubits, and so was it of the other cherub.

27 And he set the cherubims within the inner house: and they stretched forth the wings of the cherubims, so that the wing of the one touched the one wall, and the wing of the other cherub touched the other wall; and their wings touched one another in the midst of the house.

28 And he overlaid the cherubims with gold.

29 And he carved all the walls of the house round about with carved figures of cherubims and palm trees and open flowers, within and without.

30 And the floors of the house he overlaid with gold, within and without.

31 And for the entering of the oracle he made doors of olive tree: the lintel and side posts were a fifth part of the wall.

32 The two doors also were of olive tree; and he carved upon them carvings of cherubims and palm trees and open flowers, and overlaid them with gold, and spread gold upon the cherubims, and upon the palm trees.

33 So also made he for the door of the temple posts of olive tree, a fourth part of the wall.

34 And the two doors were of fir tree: the two leaves of the one door were folding, and the two leaves of the other door were folding.

35 And he carved thereon cherubims and palm trees and open flowers: and covered them with gold fitted upon the carved work.

36 And he built the inner court with three rows of hewed stone, and a row of cedar beams.

37 In the fourth year was the foundation of the house of the Lord laid, in the month Zif:

38 And in the eleventh year, in the month Bul, which is the eighth month, was the house finished throughout all the parts thereof, and according to all the fashion of it. So was he seven years in building it.

He looked across the boardwalk into the inalienable ocean.
Love danced upon the cresting waves.
The sound of a quantum leap stretched thousands of miles.
A piece of him was still with her.

She looked across the boardwalk with another.
Pain no longer had a home within her golden hair.
She had withstood time, it's waves began again.
His need showcased in the night sky, to her horror.

Deadly, their entanglement remains after being long forgotten.
Poison gas reaches into his head, the same gas rots her mind.
Toxic people and corrosive words melt their being.
Condemned to the hell he calls home.

Pull and push, he pushes on, she pulls away.
He continues his war march into this nethermost dwelling.
She escapes into the day, burning at its torrid sunlight.
He destroy her mind, She prolongs his pain.

In the end, they're just two toxic people in love.
Never to see each other again.

You're ******* in time ticking choices away
white light fills the night till its brighter than day
cacophonous voices can say what they say
from the dusk till the meaningless dawn
Then secured by a seatbelt to leather and foam
the speedo's at zero six yards from your home
a million neighbours, completely alone
you're a shell, you're a shade, you're a pawn
But glance through the windscreen and look at the sky
a seagull, suspended, is catching your eye
you sense a connection but cannot say why
as it tilts on the wind and is gone
Then the trees you drive under are sharpened and clear
they're humming and pulsing beneath the veneer
you're dazed and confused as you shift up a gear
dumbly wondering what's going on
You turn on the satnav for guidance and sound
but its whisper can't silence this thing you have found
from the shimmering clouds to the roots of the ground
Is a force that is ancient and new
You try to pretend like a terrified child
that the world can be binary indexed and filed
and the sparkling eye of the jackdawish wild
isn't focused intently on you
But there is no denying this fluttering clutch
that is moss-furred and feathered, a hurricane touch
that you knew long ago and you've missed it so much
with a longing that's howling and black
But she's patiently stationed there just out of sight
as you've built your resistance from pixel and byte
Rebellious teenager, pitiful plight
she is waiting to welcome you back
Yes Nature is waiting to welcome you back
She's beneath every slab and behind every crack
at the nethermost end of the bitterest track
she is waiting to welcome you back
Forever forgiving, unloosed unconfined
she is mad she is chaos she's love and she's blind
volcanic voluptuous core of mankind
she is waiting to welcome you back.

As I think back on what took this squandered wanderer
To the nethermost pitfalls of hell,
Only the wickedness of mere existence can be adequate enough to delineate such misery.
A brute, stuck in a trap of one’s own making
With its stone walls, one’s lament echoes through the hallow chambers,
made of anguish & possibilities.
Shadows of what has been and what could’ve been,
Dance around to the cacophony of ones regret.
But what took this wretched man,
belonging to the heights of heaven,
into the nomad land of a melancholic sufferer?


Erstwhile, all pure and innocent with a fire,
Blazing bright with the desire to
Grasp and cling on to this abyss of dashing hopes
Called life.
In a realm where shadows sway in despair, and the air is filled with whispers of sorrow,
how can the flickering flame of one’s essence endure?
While Discovering peace within the realm of thoughts,
A journey embarked to the world concealed.
The path unknown, where mysteries abide
At the end of this journey

Was the triumph of knowing oneself.
He moveth upon the earth, through uncharted territories
Where spirits roam, and the monsters groan.
At the end of his path, shines a bright star, which he crawls to
His bright star blinks as it bespeaks eternal bliss
And the fire within him shines bright, beaming a lurid light
Both losing themselves to the rhythm of the universe
As the earth spins and spins in its cosmic loneliness.
The solitary nomad, crafting his own path in a realm shaped by the power divine
Moved in perfect synchrony with the universal

rhythm, while the flames of passion blazed inside him.
A budding sorcerer, weaving his artistry with the mystical alchemy of life.
With the ethereal melodies guiding his every step and the rhythm of life being his sanctuary,
He delved into the boundless opportunities that life had to offer, through his enchanting artistry.
He stood amidst the inky blackness, as it devoured him
The longing to know the unknown
And to know what detests to be known.
His fiery passion and his radiant guiding light,
Growing fainter with each passing moment.
The symphony of existence now reduced to a mere murmur


He had expanded the tapestry of the unknown to the edge of the world
And now he is a piece of the obscure, evading recognition.
Yet, how can a soul ensnared in the vast expanse of cosmic solitude,
a solitude it shares with the universe,
do anything but merge with the enigmatic essence of the divine?
A vast realm of endless possibilities and untold wonders
Makes one dance to the rhythm of
The almighty divinity,
A strict father, guiding the beloved child into the shadows,

And into the chaos of his own being.
Under the cloak that veils the world in mystery, where depths allure,
Subsume the unknown, while it beckons with a seductive luminance
bidding the conscience to explore,
To plunge within, seeking solace bright,
Amidst the darkness, finding pathways of light.

Tick-tock the hands of the clock plock
the pendulum swings to the immutable
rhythm of hypnotic seconds measuring time,
the soundtrack to the great oeuvre that is

our life. An existence we perceive
ephemeral, thus instinctively preparing
suitcases since inception, on an earthly
sphere we interpret merely as a vestibule,

be it a pretty one awaiting to embark
on a journey to a destination unknown,
neatly folding experiences one by one,
hiding mistakes between the nethermost

layers, shameful feelings, regrettable deeds
tucked under blankets of tears, loving
sentiments nostalgically stowed as valuables
in secret pockets where fears glow.

Achievements meticulously placed in side-
compartments for easy retrieval, references
just in case, identity printed in capital letters
on a stateless passport holding the blank

ticket stretching ears to heed announcements,
last call for immediate boarding, hopefully
after blowing on candles times enough
for departure to be tolerable, desirable. Yet

the bell tolls every so often unexpectedly,
rendering the baggage of a life time instantly
redundant, while climbing the invisible ladder
naked, slowly dissolving into the ether, a rapid

transition between who we are, have been
and will be once more, pure energy melting
to recompose, metamorphosis in tune not
with the pendulum but with the mute

timeless cosmic flow encompassing all,
the solemn moment the weight suspended
from the pivot ceases to swing.

It’s wrong for me to say I love you,
When your heart is somewhere else.
Now I say it’s love without a clue,
It’s funny when you feel your heart pulse.

I see his soul and feel his Zeal,
I pace myself as nothing feels real.
If I could take his pain, make him smile,
Feel his joy and embrace him all the while.

I just want to make him happy,
And I know it’s not my place.
Should I fear what I want – Why,
A fear to just reach out and touch his face.

I’m more than a little confused,
And I don’t know what to say.
A friendship to which I’ve mused,
But I know there’s a price to pay.

I’ve walked this one-way street before,
Using analogies like, waves on the shore,
It’s like hitting reset and zooming back to start,
But this time it feels like I may actually break apart.

All Consuming Darkness prickles on my skin,
And I really don’t know if I’m fighting for a win.
The twisted wreckage of a once proud man,
Who’s really doing all he can.
The life you saw and boy you knew,
Watched the light fade and the shadows grew.

I lose my mind one sunrise and moonshine at a time,
One Tick, One Marble, One innocuously innocent crime.
In the darkest corners of my proliferating insanity,
Lurk the creatures of nethermost intensity.
Inside it churns and bubbles and writhes,
One rolling tear that never dries.

His passion lights fires, an unwavering warriors soul,
His determination gives purpose, a true survivors goal.

Holding back the tears, floodgates at the ready,
One Day, One Minute, One at fault, unsteady.

Phantasms abound unreal reaction,
You are the embedded One - real distraction.
I find no comfort in the darkness only consolation,
And when the light shines deeper, stark Isolation.

The Mirror of Truth  
The face in the crowd worried me it was still
but the eyes were aglow showing an intense hatred
to no one, in particular, a man's who dreams had
been disturbed by reality; this is the way it is and
he is a slave of the conventional and his lack of courage
to break free a man who bullies himself and others,
if not rescued his rage will turn violent.

What bothers him is familiarity of the face he has seen
it before somewhere was it on the surface of the lake
so deep and silty those thoughts sink to the nethermost
conscience; he has long denied the veracity is shocking,
the face is a mirror image of him

Therefrom the manichaeism wormhole of the
Trivalency of Heaven, Earth and Hell,
A space built ''into space''- The Cinvat Bridge;
The obscure by the still more obscure,
The past and the future, matter and anti-matter
Collide between the two annhilation properties of Srosh and
Vizarsh; provoked over a magian sciomancy thistle,
A spirit indestructable in thought, word and deed,
A most lovely triumvir soul of As Above, So Below, Alike on Earth
Whose transference shadow never grows less for the *****,
That crosses the sky united in the dark whilst life
Reverberates grave requitable impious impunity beyond its
Negative Mass so that All Souls may rise shining
Into the paradise light-land at the final all encompassing
Purgation of the ''Nethermost Hell''.






ELEETE J MUIR

Gay times were enjoyed by all at 15 million homosexual “weddings”! Look for bundles of joy in 9 months! Homosexuals are baby-making machines, oh yeah!!! Learn why the genitals of males & females are different. There are 3 irrefutable reasons for this distinction, one of which is Barry Soetoro's Kenyan birth certificate. 2 women cannot make a baby? Non-lesbian Obama & pro-Obama lesbians say: Yes WE can! Could I fall in love with a lesbian and start a family? Pro-lesbian Obamas & non-Obama lesbians say: Yes WE can! Yes, WE MUST! Let's bomb from above and from below; from the nethermost camps and the uppermost regions. Let's eat meat and deliver!

Look for bundles of joy in 9 months! Homosexuals are baby-making machines, oh yeah!!! Learn why the genitals of males & females are different. There are 3 irrefutable reasons for this distinction, one of which is Barry Soetoro's Kenyan birth certificate. 2 women cannot make a baby? Non-lesbian Obama & pro-Obama lesbians say: Yes WE can! Could I fall in love with a lesbian and start a family? Pro-lesbian Obamas & non-Obama lesbians say: Yes WE can! Yes, WE MUST! Let's bomb from above and from below; from the nethermost camps and the uppermost regions. Let's eat meat and deliver!