In the house where I was born
We tied our laces in the dark
Then shuffled down the stairs without a lamp.
We breathed a foggy whisper
On a window webbed with frost
And we swore, and we swore,
And we swore the vows of knighthood every day.
In the house where I was born
We ate our breakfast standing up;
The better for to make the swill go down.
We dipped the dripping ladle,
Closed our eyes and swallowed hard
And we swore, and we swore,
And we swore the vows of knighthood every day.
Gravity, brevity, granite and lead,
War bread and horseflesh, a pillar of salt,
Tilt yard, curtain wall, tallow on slate,
Crossed swords with diamonds; Et monstro fides.
In the house where I was born
We swept the dirt beneath the rug,
Then nailed its ragged edges to the floor.
We strapped our monkish duties
Hemp and leather to our backs
And we swore...
CUM ET PIUS VIRTUTIS (With devout courage
ET SUPPLEX VIRES And humble strength
NOS PAREBIMUS DOMINUS We serve our lord
ET MONSTRO FIDES Faithfully)
Categories:
dominus, dedication, history,
Form: Blank verse
. for public domain
Dominus Vobiscum
Adopted ways, to thrive in paschal, wooded glens,
and manners, to honor pristine water,
pass through our generations to their end,
pass away like a long forgotten friend.
Calloused hands, now unsoiled from soil and seed,
washed clean and softened, no longer find need
to raise a chalice in celebration.
Bread and wine no longer feed a nation.
New ways, new manners, distilled from sullied seas,
new grains of seed, born from modified abductees,
prepare to send new life to outer space.
God go with them, and with them, Heaven's Grace.
Categories:
dominus, religion,
Form: Rhyme
Then Margarita gave her father mind,
for she was very happy being home.
Hence three years placed in a covent confined
where she's had little use of brush and comb.
Removed from places she loved most to roam,
the fields and plains of fine San Luis Ore.
For loving Yankee, sealed in great round dome,
but home with father, spirit high did soar.
Was she wrong thinking happy home thoughts, priest,
when she should be now praying while on knees?
But really she now didn't care the least
for she had little mind the priest to please.
Took she all pleasure fine that mind could seize,
a gold cross o'er the alter gained her eyes.
The somber monotones of priest did ease,
and lady greatly marveled golden prize.
Benedicat vos onmipotens Deus, Pater,
et Filius, et Sprititus Sanctus. Amen.
Dominus vobiscum. Et cum Sprititu tuo.
Initium sancti Evangelii secundum Ioannem.
Gloria tibi, Domine.
Categories:
dominus,
Form: Rhyme
I've played part
Part for part - next, you wonder?
Don't wonder ; for the excesses of night!
Quite a candour, our mingle was.
These battles, I've tales to tell for!
The creamy, basking sunset cools, off the air...
Dominus Vobisvum!
Et cum spiri tu tuo!
Innocence was this cry-
Pre-empted by a cry- a cry for freedom!
For Padre et Madre welcomes - innocent
Padre - experience we pray for? Yes!
Sweet mother's world is a blessing to view
Innocence, a moment we wish for...
Innocence, a life I desire once again
Oracles must bow,
Giants must pay allegiance to your fleet
Legends must pay respect
Generals must salute ,
For once cum many,
Innocence is born.
Categories:
dominus, age, best friend, celebration,
Form: Blank verse
Head honcho, forever bristling
Bleached exterior, this mask of
countenance
Princey, let me kiss you, my liege
We are only Men in Black -
Chieftain for the cause
Priest of neoclassism
Maestro of Propriety
You are.
He stamps and huff - truth or
farce?
This I do not know - I heard
Still the serprent, however sly leaves a print
It slithers - yes, and leaves a print -
Wiil Imposer
Chief Impostor
Usurper
You are.
Head honcho of feline wit
Your back never rests next to our
feet
This bloated extremity of covetousness
Is bottomless, an abyss, a vacuum -
Pathetic dominus
Bringer of Locusts
Cowrie counter
You are
Truly you desire this:
My lips pressed to your rear
My face mopping the earth
My nails digging the crust
The Goddess' emissary
Meister of duplicity
Exalted Prince
You are.
Categories:
dominus, angst,
Form: Free verse
"...Dominus orationem meam suscepit."
Burning his little jelly bottom raw,
He blisters in his liquid greenish poop.
He has no means to summon us at all
To drain the acid swamp of split pea soup.
Except to scream, a peevish infant yawp,
And so he screams, until we take his goop.
We modestly subserve our son's ejecta.
Clean, dry and warm: his everyday trifecta.
He's not alone. I've had my days of burning.
Blistered and raw, to salve my hurt I prayed
for balm from God, ultimately learning
His summit lay on far too steep a grade.
Footless in His scree, inflamed with yearning,
My wounds combusted into wrath. I brayed
My blasphemies, then heard the Logoi fall.
I had no means to summon Him at all.
Which births a trailing thought about the sainted:
Their whispered prayers, their worshipful reclusion,
Which all the hagiographers have painted.
Don't buy it. Souls corroded with confusion,
Their love of God with hatred wholly tainted,
And Doubt the only friend to their seclusion,
With blasphemies they burnt the fetid air.
Profanation is the purest form of prayer.
Categories:
dominus, religion,
Form: Ottava rima