Ignitio

The poet said the world would end again in ice,
But I believe its destiny will be the fire.
When all the stars go singly to their dark defeat,
And nebulae, undone by entropy’s deceit,
No more to light’s creation can aspire,
And last among the heaven’s arched and soaring heights
Fair Sol, that bloodied giant, falls upon our sphere,
We’ll recall among ourselves the wrathful Flood
Ancient counterpart, deep quenching of our sins.
The world once burned with scorching guilt, but now begins
The final forging, metal bought with Lordly blood;
The fire summons all to judgement and to fear.

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Remember

When Roland fought his victory
On the field of Roncevaux,
And Don John of Austria
Achieved his mighty blow,
And Martel’s iron hammer
Smote the Paynim horde,
The vanguards of a Christian Church,
They knew for what they warred.

But though the land and sea they swept
With chivalry’s dying breaths
The sky unblemished yet remained:
The air had not seen death.
But in Our Lord’s remembrance,
A thousand years had fled
Before the Paynim hosts would strike,
A second dragon’s head.

No knights, no Christendom saw they,
Only the West, corrupt.
They swore a bloody vow and bond
To meet where Mahound supped.
And in the sky at last they seized
The swords they lusted for,
To wield against the West’s strong towers;
The Paynims flew to war.

Strange thing! That in their flight,
Three of four would strike,
Flying but not fleeing,
Victory and death alike.
Three modern churches soared in flame:
Our country’s five-side shield,
Two monuments to commerce fell,
And then the fourth: a field.

For Roland’s spirit rose again
And held the common heart,
Again Don John of Austria
Would fight his valiant part.
For common men, uncommon souls
Their heritage reborn
Unarmed, unyielding, undismayed
They answered Roland’s horn.

And they the martyrs, for they took
That sword in their own breast.
They fought and died for others lives,
And joined in Roland’s geste.
The wailing of a stricken siren sounds
Flight 93 is mourned.
And yet we pause, in silent praise,
On this September morn.

Week by Week 2

A discussion between myself and a few friends. It’s been edited, so there are pieces missing, but it gets the broad majority of what we covered.

This Week: A discussion between Carson S, David H, and Caleb W. We talk about Billy Collins, Beowulf, T.S. Elliot, J.R.R. Tolkien, Keats “Ode to a Nightingale”, C.S. Lewis, Picasso, Job, sub-creation, darkness and light, the point of creation, the need for honesty, self-publishing, rap, the eschatology of art and in what it finds its purpose in, whether prayer is an art (the Valley of Vision), the importance of having something valuable to say in an age of aspiration and self-promotion, meaning and how a poem conveys it, reading poetry out-loud, reading poetry fast, eye-rhymes, and all various postmodern mouth-dribbles.

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Good Little Governments

Good Little Governments

Nato is requesting that cyber warriors refrain from attacking hospitals and nuclear power plants. In a similar bid, the U.S. Army is requesting terrorists to “stop shooting soldiers in critical body parts.” One General, who asked to remain anonymous, talked to our reporters. “It had to be done. I mean, if we don’t make rules like this, someone might, you know, get hurt.” 
And now, in government news, Obama is implementing a defense policy whose first strategy is “asking them nicely to stop. And saying please.”