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I’m indebted to the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, 4th Edition 1996

Ab Imo Pectore

A
b imo pectore,
Blandae mendacia linguae,
Cadit quaestio,
Desunt cetera.
Est modus in rebus.
Faber est quisque fortunae suae,
Gigni de nihilo nihilum, in nihilum nil posse reverti.
Hic finis fandi,
Interdum stultus bene loquitur?
Jacta interdum est alea,
Labuntur et imputantur.
Magni nominis umbra,
Nec scire fas est omnia,
Omne crede diem tibi diluxisse supremun,
Pallida mors aequo pulsat pauperum tabernas regumque turres;
Quid rides, mutato nominee de te fibula narrator,
Res ipsa loquitur.
Solvitur ambulando…
Tempora mutantur, nos et matamur in illis.
Urbi et orbi,
Vestigia nulla retrorsum.



From The Bottom Of The Heart

From the bottom of the heart,  the falsehoods of a smooth tongue,
The question drops, the rest is wanting.
There is a balance in all things, every man is the creator of his own fate.
From nothing, nothing can come, into nothing, nothing can return.
Let there be an end to talking, for who can tell when a fool speaks the truth?
The die is sometimes already cast,
A moment comes and goes, and is laid to our account.
From the smallest shadow to the mightiest name,
No one can claim to know all things,
I believe that every day that dawns may be my last,
Pale death knocks impartially at both poor and rich men’s houses;
Don’t laugh, change the name and the story is yours,
It’s so obvious, it speaks for itself.
As the concept of motion is proven by walking…
So in time all things change, as we must, in time, all change.
And to all the world,
There’s no turning back.

Ab Imo Pectore / From The Bottom Of The Heart

Ab imo pectore,
From the bottom of the heart,
Blandae mendacia linguae,  
The falsehoods of a smooth tongue,
Cadit quaestio,
The question drops,
Desunt cetera.
The rest is found wanting.
Est modus in rebus,
There is a balance in all things,
Faber est quisque fortunae suae.
Every man is the creator of his own fate.
Gigni de nihilo nihilum, in nihilum nil posse reverti.
From nothing, nothing can come, into nothing, nothing can return.  
Hic finis fandi,
Let there be an end to talking,
Interdum stultus bene loquitur?
For who can tell when a fool speaks the truth?
Jacta interdum est alea.
The die is sometimes already cast,
Labuntur et imputantur.
A moment comes and goes, and is laid to our account.
Magni nominis umbra,
From the smallest shadow to the mightiest name,
Nec scire fas est omnia,
No one can claim to know all things,
Omne crede diem tibi diluxisse supremun,
I believe that every day that dawns may be my last,
Pallida  mors aequo pulsat pauperum tabernas regumque turres;
Pale death knocks impartially at both poor man and rich men’s houses;
Quid rides, mutato nominee de te fibula narrator,
Don’t laugh, change the name and the story is yours,
Res ipsa loquitur.
It’s so obvious, that it speaks for itself.
Solvitur ambulando…
As the concept of motion is proven by walking…
Tempora mutantur, nos et matamur in illis.
So in time all things change, as we must, in time, all change.
Urbi et orbi,
And to all the world,
Vestigia nulla retrorsum.
There’s no turning back.


r10.1
I didn’t write a ******* line of this, it’s all cribbed from a dictionary. But I’ll take the credit for its conception and, as good Systems Poetry should do, meaning and beauty appears spontaneously from the random juxtaposition of disparate lines of prose; like frogs from rotting wood…
Pluto May 2022
As my body sinks into the deep blue ocean and stares towards the moon light glittering across the calm sea

The vast emptiness surrounds me as silence deafens my ears

Cries of laughter and sadness pulsat from across the void onto the hairs of my warm skin

The dark abyss behind me whispering and ecoing...

Share me the pain that consumes him
The joy that excites her
The fire that fuels them
And the misery that lingers in their shadows and envelops their very existence

I exist in limbo... a place of uncertainty between the extremes of bliss and misery

The abyss whispers behind me
The void overwhelms my senses
And the moon light's reflection of lingering hope

...offer me your hand and free me from this hidden burden or my suffering will carry to the end of days...
RV Nov 2018
o tempestas
ira caeli
moles ingens nihili
te pervertis
ubi aestas
aerum pulsat calide
nunc appares
vorax nubes
tenebrarum columna
tum evanes
tam occulte
quam intrasti resonans
Kind of an experiment with parody.  Wrote it during a tornado lock down, had the tune of "O Fortuna" (Orff) in my head.

— The End —