"tenet" poems
My heart I bequeath you
O’ stillness of my universe
I bequeath you my sanity
Spreading this cloak of being in your dust
I bow to your twinkling stars
To the waxing sun and scented grass
I bow to your springing rivers
To the parched grain and blossoming flowers
I bow to the warmth of my lover
And want of my beloved
I bow to your saccharine figs
And honeyed nectar in chalice filled
I bequeath my mortality to your transiency
Blinded by this light in game of ruse
Into your cohesiveness, I fuse
In blinkers to win the race
Espying a king in glass
Presage of being a slave
Yet when darkness falls
I furl my cloak and solemnly rise
For I bow not then
To your barren fields and waning suns
I bow not to your garish colors,
To the cloying drupe and wilted blossoms
Bracing my feeble transience
With my tenet and trail of faith
I bow to the King of kings;
Whilst I beseech for emanating hope,
In my tigers clasp, my God’s rope
I beseech,
Till the noise becomes music again
And as I gaze in the glass now,
All I espy is a beseeching slave
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
i took your **** and ran with it,
went miles into distance while you constantly clinged to the past
girl I'm tired of it.
How am I suppose to get in if he still has the original and I was givin the spare key,
I'm me and no where near him reason why you always keep runnin back lookin for a safe haven, but in reality sorry that ******** I ain't takin ,
must be mistaken,
I'm havin you second all the time I made you first,
like an unwelcomed tenet,
or low rank lieutenant,
I'm undermined, while hes underlined,
made into a bold figure,
but I stack real figures,
and don't make you feel bitter like this *****
Just don't mention why you quiver , I know the reason why you internally bleedin , stress in ya eyes swollen from the cries in the night, it ain't right.
but yet you fall back to him , then call me later? I gave you my words, last time was the last. So to bad if it didn't last, and both ends of the ties leave you to grieve and gravel on the gravel , yeah sit there and babble , yeah I ponder the river creeks for years
now im off the love boat, I skidattled , faught the more fishes in the sea with broken paddle promise not to commit unless it was suicide or a contract with a person I don't trust after marriage and can't truly settle with.
so the others who wanted me are shunned, and you ? Is of no concern to my conscience , my once brown poccahauntus who haunted
my nights , and Asian moon cake who left with the wrong shake wen I coulda move mountain cause I was the real earthquake to shake the floor beneath you and let you see the plummit to a deeper meaning. Thank for leavin.
Asmathic or not,
I remain breathing.
by Emmanuel Hernandez
aka
Linguist Musician aka Deep thought
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS
Cropsman,
Alpha-Omega is with you, and bids you go forward with a patient but steady momentum.
Keep yourself to the Old Truth.
Your work
Is that of the seasons which are cyclical as the wheels of your sowing and reaping contraptions.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
Sweeten, let’s, a coast of dun
Therefrom which, the tides erode,
A castle to blind the mighty sun
Affront to that Poseidon, and others
On the beach.
***** the walls and battlements
Fair crystal arm the turrets
The audience of the hermit *****
Pay silent homage to the throne
Intricate are its libraries, etched
Our history inside the tomes.
Only grains of perfect stock
From which antiquity, in full credit,
Will revere the lot
And poetry of human might
Shaped and forged to kiss the day of light
Only that may suffice.
In this endeavor, no ancients will tenet
Its salty beams but the children of the morn
For we shall build the universe
From when progenitors are born.
Before it began, we were dismayed
Our future, castle, by waves waylaid
Aspirations sink, now, from shape.
But, Gods, I curse you!
Let my destiny rise free!
Look now before you:
A stone in ocean of mediocrity!
All these that build up forts
Lack in that spirit to fight, retort
**** you, **** you, waters of my doubt
Turn false the shades of realism
Which I thought it all about
**** you, **** you sands of time
For now all that founds my dreams
Is erosion of the shoreline sand.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
Upon the arboreal dozed and limb,
Extended coccyx serpentine loose,
Throne of inspection, tenet and dumb
Stillness hunts akin stealthy Mongoose;
Except for the natal locomotive
Soft deep sufficiently immense purr
Emanating from some industry; effective
In the cover of the thick supple fur.
The lord of his unconquered empire,
Thrives on flesh and quenches on milk,
Wintering unperturbed reading the fire
That flickers, gleaming his bed of silk.
Ever landing on appendage quadruple
Acrobatic athlete not soiling once his back
Consummating in strict concealment marble
Couch of perpetual indulgence buried black.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:35 AM UTC
Upon the arboreal dozed and limb,
Extended coccyx serpentine loose,
Throne of inspection, tenet and dumb
Stillness hunts akin stealthy Mongoose;
Except for the natal locomotive
Soft deep sufficiently immense purr
Emanating from some industry; effective
In the cover of the thick supple fur.
The lord of his unconquered empire,
Thrives on flesh and quenches on milk,
Wintering unperturbed reading the fire
That flickers, gleaming his bed of silk.
Ever landing on appendage quadruple
Acrobatic athlete not soiling once his back
Consummating in strict concealment marble
Couch of perpetual indulgence buried black
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 6:46 AM UTC
Look at me with wide open eyes.
Know that I am not as I appear.
I never did mind the darkness,
Even though it frightens me so.
Sometimes, I fool even myself
Into thinking that I search for answers.
The truth is something more
Than I ever will display.
SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS
And I awaken.
I speak for him,
I speak though him.
It does not matter the reason.
Never, never will I leave.
There was a crystal chalice
From which I used to drink.
There was a set of pricipals
On which I used to think.
And once the door is opened
The words begin to flow.
I am his brother, partner, lover.
I am the summate of his fears.
I am the solvant of his tears.
Sometimes all you have is yourself.
Sometimes all he has is me.
I make the decisions,
And take the actions
That are too difficult for him.
There are times I haved saved his life,
But I should never be mistaken for what I am not.
My venom is toxic.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
*Thou shall not **** is pretty much a tenet at the temple
Listening to dhamma talks, trying to digest and
Perhaps be a better/not so ignorant being
Along come you, master or mistress of annoyance
I can’t tell, your looks deceive
I suppose my black jeans must have been
The attractive factor
And the cool comfort of the a/c and
The close proximity of us humans
Of course you came, you love it
Well to be fair, you love blood, right?
But seriously at any other place
I’d do away with you with a slap and or
Maybe a heavy blow
But come on, this is where
The Buddha’s teachings are propagated
If temptation is your thing, you’ve chosen the right place
You know what, I’ll ignore you and who knows, it could be bliss
Really, what do you do, Oh Master of Zen?
Do you intentionally **** the annoying vermin or
Tolerate it and let it **** your blood
In front of you and just scratch the itch later?
Oh Master! Oh Dilemma!
*Thou shall not **** I know! I know!
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
Tis not my mind
Nor my heart
Tis not my word
Nor my speech
These rhythmic impulses
Striking gently against my nerves
And dripping...
These droplets of harmony
Absorbed; on the pages of time
This verse or perhaps a tune
This theme or perhaps a symphony
To be sung or perhaps unsung
To be heard or perhaps unheard
Yet splashed and imprinted
On the score of a lovers heart
I be the lover; Him be my beloved
As I looked up to the heavens
And drank the pouring rain
Cascaded down from my beloved's abode
To soak and fill the cracks of my imagination
And you my friend!
A passersby;
In quest of your beloved's song
But when your beloved sings not,
Return..
Within,
To hear your silver chimes
Hear once and hear again
How the tumult ends
Rewarded or unrewarded
Never you are empty handed
Hence leave your instrument of doubt hither
On your stage of tenet
But seek and return; again
And see with each return
How your orchestra rises, how it plays
How you hear and how you sway
For then, you'll be the lover
But only He will be your beloved
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Shallow: a desert puddle, arid June
Voracious need for lavish fortune
Pseudo socialite, sprayed on tan
Would die in a minivan
Black Benz, hairdo, I, beep
Drowning in the deep
Judged by your frown
Risible
You will
Drown
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
there’s usually two ways of writing an abstract
like one might have written one for
a chemistry experiment, a debriefing, a plot
summary as you might have it, although
in philosophy it’s either geometric of algebraic,
to take into account a chance meeting between sartre (b)
and descartes (a) i can only utilise the algebraic
in a framework of a platonic schematic, i.e. dialogue,
and since dialogue then casually, in conversation, like so:
example no. 1 (exercise of good faith)
(a) i think i had
a brain haemorrhage
(b) i doubt it.
example no. 2 (exercise of bad faith)
(b) i had
a brain haemorrhage
(a) how do you know?
(i.e. i’ll deny this statement.)
it really is as simple as that, after all, all the ball of wool
untangling in the standard philosophy books is meddled at times,
it is hard to craft an entry of a decent dialogue without
the one-sided stance of monologues that fill the pages of books,
but take any major tenet of the two philosopher’s works
and set a scene of two buddies talking in a pub, and that’s you
having skipped the best 200 pages of untimely meditations
and about 400 pages of being and nothingness - not out of rudeness
but on the simple basis: **** i understood it!
so if anything can be relevant in modern philosophy, and that’s
modern from 17th century to the present era
it is only relevant when applying a platonic schematic,
because it has to be talked about, and when talked about
simplified, because why would anyone want to over-complicate
and apply an aristotelian schematic of inspection
by writing very crude philosophies by the simple process
of over-complicating the thinking process as that, which
does not necessarily need thought attached to it - like at present,
with western society debasing any original theology
by forcing all the ills of the world as the adequate justification...
the origin of this, you will find,
is not from the people who suffer as such,
but from people who are safe, healthy and satiated with
adequate materialism,
the kind to have a very english middle-class sentimentality
to care for whimsical sensibilities, prudences and etiquette in general,
that's how placebo atheism works, it's still a ****** theology,
the real atheists? hmm, guess... the list is pretty dramatic
in the way they approached coupling freedom and will
and others - that's why i prefer my invention of coupling
a placebo effect with atheism... rather than writing out
a theology of absence - look... here's a trick:
a theology of indefinite absence (a) / theology of definite absence (the),
and then the ism from empiricism.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
O’ bewailed seeker of the seeker
Wandering in the corridor of tenet
Yet opening doors as a blind valet
To the master of secular need
That materialistic greed
On your slumping soul it feeds
Won’t you lift the veil from your heart?
For the doors are new yet all the same
To the rooms of silken gold of shame
O’ lamented!
To annihilate this lust and moist your lips
Don’t cup your hand, nor take the sip
“To quench this thirst, be the sea”
Your heart is vessel so sail THIS ship
Cruise the waters; sail wide and strive
Dig the hole deep, drown and rise
O’ grieving self
Now you conserve the flame of “fikr”
You are the sea yet how good is
When contained in self, veiling the bliss?
“To quench your thirst, be the rain”
Sprinkle the leaves and be that trail
Of lush green ivy once livid and pale
Undone the knots and unlock the chains,
For the dust, for the smoke and the fading lights
Aren’t those ones who have most right?
“But to be the rain, must be that vapor”
That gazes at “shams” and let it burn
The glistening surface of its being
Surrenders its berth of cradling sea
And submits its sole to the Highest being
A sage once said Fire and Rain
Are in unison; are one name
Immortality!
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
People have strong feelings about nonsense.
Unaware of the by-products
of fervent tenet.
The ardent flames burn hotter than
any dogmas of faith.
They are swathe in this magma.
Burning all those near,
churning deep-rooted fear.
Making it crystal clear for some,
but foggy glass for others.
Colourful grey matter yet mindlessly
They clutch on too much
to the senseless crux of the matter.
Somethings may be in flux
Places and faces among other things
but the same truth endures.
Those whose eyes are blinded
by creed, ensure that only casualties
and tragedies will arise
from their fallacious activities.
When will these attitudes changes?
A question I can not answer with any certitude.
Only hope a solution will come post-haste
as we are faced with too many ghosts.
Passer-bys erased simple because
people have strong feelings about nonsense.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
From old to new, young to old,
Great lords can be traced
And before their time inevitably comes
Burns their memory unerased.
From the lives of one such man,
Traveling in the call box,
We know the game of chance was won
Because sticky-uppy hair rocks.
Savéd he the rich and poor;
He battled monstrous foes--
And before the eleventh hour struck,
He'd had his share of woes.
Companions in hearts and soul,
He gave of himself so readily;
How could one lose so much
But never lose one's empathy?
His smile warmed the hearts of all,
His pain struck them to the core;
And not one of us didn't dream of the day
He'd show up at our door.
He'd fought his Goliath, like all of us must do,
And waited for the sunrise to appear;
Not one but two hearts beat in his chest,
Which some might think very queer.
He held our hearts and attention,
We watched him victorious with pride;
But as long as he stayed, we loved him
And missed him when Eleven arrived.
From old to new, young to old,
There's always a bit of a shocker:
Regeneration really *****
And you never forget your first Doctor.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
a milestone
how she's mine
that liken hand jive
when she's a dancing top
in a courtyard of her repute
and heartily on the move where
she'll tenet to newly connect latter
with wealth resound in me to advance
her timeless rule for love and honor again.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 8:05 AM UTC
their curriculum of beauty is suspense
it confuses the pure essence of sense
stuns and thrills man to indulge and languish
it is a catapult that revokes twitches to distinguish
women flowery toss aloft our deed breadth
our desire and lament proselylate length
we suffer the blight and plaguee of fantasy
we are frail monsters late but in ecstasy
but in them dwell the occult trouble of peace
chide,scold,rebuke and admonish us like louse
rein us by fondues and affectionate devotion
circuitously tenet and statue men in version
eternal motion we dance to the music
their incredulity binds us to mimic
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
Mellifluously I want one to bring me to stratum astronomy,
One addicted, and Fond of me, amorphous to whence our bindings are implored!!!!
I seek a hard working galore, a fantasy of children's Disney books, being two time crooks not caring for thine world around us.bond unshook!
None derogatory, or spiteful, a light at night pools that cover us in indulgence secretly whispered!!!
Increment's of lip splurs...
A renaissance of our two legs locking in between the patterned bricks, all for replenishing and the I love you's and I love yous back!!!
Our vocation to be made by ourn own tenet tout!!! No remorse, guilt nor doubt shall befall one another...
Rustic in our nudeness!!!
Saccharine I wish to find one to be, as our bodies will drop seed to grow another artist..prudence will be taken,
Engraved, our names on the oak close by!!
Two mystiques soo high off a love soo extreme!!!
Peripheries handling our own, no electronics and no phone needed in our own garden!!!
Magnanimous femme ,crosspathed sensai,
I'm still waiting and its one hand strike til noon!!!!
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
Oh! Oh! What a pristine pope?
Your tenet represents humbleness.
No doubt in your placid face.
Myriads of people in this world
Rich, poor, hay wired or normal.
We are in equal in his eyes.
God is an eternal great sage.
Sending you here on Earth
As a gift to all of us.
So be susceptible from his goodness.
Stop scribe wickedness.
Help him spread the word of God.
Emulate his kind and pure heart.
For the common good and for God
We may be a better nation.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
honesty, the true and whole
expression of the being who
we actually are, is my most
key and integral tenet
I forgive the meek, the lazy,
the angry, the godless, the
misunderstood, the ignorant,
and the infirm if only they
admit to me they are those
things
+
living in a society of lies,
I have grown to value the
little grains of truth I can
mine out of this world
the reasons people are afraid
of the dark, the motivations
that drive some to attack other,
and the lusts hidden away in
trunks and drawers and dark
places are just some of the
gems I have extracted
those are too dramatic though,
they do not reflect why I value
their kind so, for they are jewels
sought out by others, for more
greedy, selfish reasons
they are my prize because
they are real. they are the
reality in room of mirrors.
they ground while the
world takes flight.
amongst them are simpler things:
true opinion, small desires, empty
thoughts, the questions raised when
the teacher turns her back, the terrors
that haunt others in their sleep, the
different paths that all minds take
these are what I seek,
what I desire and lust
for
+
my life is spoiled, in many ways,
by the juxtaposition of possibility
with inevitability
the assumption of the later is
proved false by the first
one can never be forced to play
a game, there are always many
others, or there is always death
+
I find myself on the edge
of a blade, slowly cutting
the two halves of myself
into feuding worlds
those smart and those willing
now war against those attracted
to comfort and to chance
I stand at the center,
my form withering
as I grow
tonight, I sleep under the grey clouds,
hoping the rain will wash away the
sin
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 8:04 PM UTC
sator
i am still here—
the eternal spark, the constant presence
amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and dreams.
i manifest success, forging my destiny
brick by brick with every cosmic “yes.”
arepo
in the mirror of raw ego and honest reflection,
i transmute every reeking flaw into fragrant power.
from the ashes of past mistakes
i sculpt myself—a masterpiece of perseverance,
refined like the best soaps, emerging renewed.
tenet
i hold fast to my celestial blueprint,
a generator with a capricorn flame,
a leo moon roaring for its rightful spotlight,
each heartbeat an invocation of divine order,
each breath a promise to the stars.
opera
in the theater of creation, i am both director and actor—
my life a symphony of passion and precision.
with every action, every well-earned victory,
i spin the wheel of destiny,
turning obstacles into stepping stones
that lead to realms of boundless light.
rotas
and as the cosmic cycle revolves,
i embrace the sator square’s eternal secret:
what is sown in the heart returns in glory.
i manifest success with every radiant step,
every choice a spiral that brings me closer
to the infinite horizon of my dreams.
i stand as a living constellation,
an alchemist of fate and fervor,
a poet of the universe—
and in this sacred square,
i claim my success,
now and forever.
Mar 20, 2025
Mar 20, 2025 at 1:46 AM UTC
George sits
by the window
of his room,
there are rooks
over the far trees,
over some field
cows moo
on the air,
he stares at the horizon
expecting explosions,
seeing the enemies' trenches
over by Tenet's farm
teem with life,
the nurse behind him
watches him sit
his head to one side
mumbling words,
George doesn't want
to turn round
he knows Wilkes' head
will still lay on the floor
mouthing words,
the nurse offers him
a cup of tea
brown and now warm,
he sees a ******
walking along
by the drive
rifle over his shoulder
getting bolder,
you must drink George
the nurse says
putting the cup by his elbow
on the small side table,
Mitchum's hand lay
on the trench floor
at his feet
the wedding ring
still there
muddied gold,
where's Polly?
he says not looking around
in case the ******
crouches out of sight,
she's busy
the nurse says
(having been told
by Dudman the butler
not to bring her),
bring her here
he says
I need her to see
the ****** fellow
to see for herself,
the nurse looks over
his shoulder
along the drive
the gardener walks
with ***
POLLY
George bellows
POLLY
he shouts again
causing the gardener
to lift his head and stare
who was there,
the nurse puts a hand
on his shoulder
to calm him down
she'll be coming soon
she says in his ear,
his eyes gaze
as the ****** disappears
into the door
the driveway is empty,
an explosion of rooks
hit the sky,
George wide-eyed
begins to cry.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC
Racism and bigotry
In this divisive country
Black men being killed by cops
Tear gas for a photo op
Recession, race wars QAnon
As the pandemic rages on
Kids ripped from their families
Unwanted hysterectomies
Double standards in the senate
Greed and power their new tenet
Ignoring laws when they see fit
Nothing but hyGOPocrites
How can so many be so wrong
Falling for the pumpkin's con
Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 1:20 PM UTC
tenet fingers could ed braille,
hard-skinned fingers
could read nothing,
but morse-braille...
and then there's stenography...
why o why
is the diacritical tilde
( ~ )
used to vacate either m,
or the rattle-snake, trilling,
rolling implosion of the shape of R?
sure, b as 6... p as a copernican
north-by-north-west d...
P as chiral narcissus 9...
A as lambda (Λ)
and suma summarum:
a return to Phoenician
jurisprudence and lament...
or rather lamed, subtle variations
circa 90°...
E, I, K, V...
how much of injustice
is grounded upon the "logic"
of stenography...
which could introduce
tilde to replace either M, or R...
thus said...
compared to braille,
and the simplified braille via morse
encapsulation? stenography
is cuneiform by comparison,
what's the point of shorthand,
when certain cases are delayed,
and delayed...
and 20 years later on deathrow,
enough time to see Johnny Cash
die of old age... and still waiting...
needless to say,
braille combined with morse
makes more sense than
stenography...
almost as if...
you're begging to see a man
possessing a chronology of
20 years of sight,
attempting to discourage
braille writers from owning
punctuation marks, instead,
focusing on spacing...
of man's notion of serving
justice... culminating in the nonsense
of stenography...
with either M or R,
marked by a tilde...
should a blindman write
in braille... what the stenographer
writes in resurrected Phoenician...
as quickly as...
a death sentence becomes
a liberty,
for poor Xavier...
than the upper tier of
zoology, lodged in a life
measured by: x cubed...
man has another name
for passing law...
namely... imbedding itself in delay...
once a life, reduced to the frivolity
of micro-aggression,
culminating in, waiting for a bus,
five minutes late...
that death that sloth
that slouch, that... ******
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
Two headed snake,
Different venoms.
One will bite the other and they will both die.
Who strikes first?
Whose fangs hurts more?
Why even wonder, they'll both expire.
Patterns on them,
Change and clash,
But I predict the older half is the wickeder of the two.
Strike down the young,
Shed away the dead weight.
A deserted bag of hollow skin awaits a new tenet.
What a story to be,
To return to an old husk,
Make myself home again and settle before dusk.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 2:16 AM UTC
I have made it for my self, made it through, or if I am mistaken, it is a relative coincidence within the constructs of my personal tenet. Is this air, the symbolism of breath, is this the fire that I happen to touch in your body, is this sorrow that a willow leans on the ground to see her reflection in the river, is this what it means to live, to sink into deep and shallow waters, to tally its admonitions, or it happens to be there already and I am not understanding the language, the proverbial sum of love and loss, my longings, my mysteries and incisive idealism?
Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 9:10 AM UTC