Long Antebellum Poems

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Premium Member Nietzsche, Hitler, the Holocaust, Slavery and Racism

The will to power is a prominent concept in Nietzschean philosophy,
And exerted a strong influence on some major movements in history.
Its effect can be traced to the fields of politics, evolution, and psychology,
And provides useful insights into the subject of African slavery.

Nietzsche’s belief in the concept of higher or master morality,
Lead him to disavow ideas of egalitarianism and democracy.
Master morality, which values pride and power was thought to be superior,
And slave morality, which values kindness, empathy, and sympathy inferior. 

Hitler was attracted to and influenced by aspects of Nietzschean philosophy.
And the Nazis selectively used his philosophy to justify their infamous activity.
Ideas are not immaterial they are important in shaping our views.
It was erroneous ideas that lead Hitler to kill six million Jews.

The Nazi order praised the Antebellum South and its existing societal order,
Which kept African Americans at the lowest rungs of the social ladder.
Hitler believed that a Confederate victory would have made America a great nation,
One ruled “by a real Herren-class,” and based on inequality and black subjugation.

While Americans reject Nazism, the idea of white supremacy persists in our society.
And we must realize that this idea is antithetical to the principle of democracy.
If our nation wishes to eradicate systemic racism and correct the effects of slavery,
We must remove from public places the monuments and symbols of the Confederacy.

But the removal of monuments and symbols alone will not atone for our nation’s iniquity,
America must finally acknowledge the national sin and evil of black slavery,
Reform its educational system that still perpetuates the myth of white superiority,
And remove the barriers that prevent blacks from achieving social and economic parity.

Over a century after the abolition of slavery, the evil of racism still haunts this nation,
That prides itself as a bastion of equality, liberty, and a model of cultural integration.
It is time for this generation of Americans who live in a society built on injustice,
To take responsibility for proactively addressing injustice and ending racial prejudice.
Form: Rhyme


Labor Day 2021

Courtesy of one or more tradesmen, 
first Monday in September set aside
for employees able, eager, ready 
and willing to acquire money 
to marry groom or bride
climb the corporate ladder or 
become an artisan, entrepreneur, technician 
to side step getting rung, drafted 
like an oxen plow, commandeered and chide
by management as insubordinate 
till retirement or join kiln fields once died

from over exertion, yet nonetheless 
sweat of brow efforts praised I espied 
searching me noggin brief history re: 
aforesaid day, where barbecues fried
dispersed aromas recognizing efforts 
of workers with quality control as guide
grievances against danger challenged 
sense and sensibility stalwart did not hide
the shenanigans that took place inside

boardrooms in tandem with glories of 
American made products from those
who put figurative nose to grindstone – 
just common everyday Jane's and Joe’s
who weathered extreme temperatures, 
whereby bodies froze
but thanks to those who battled elements 
at large and snatched doze

birth of brute efforts eventually 
earned reserved renowned
borne couple shy of 
nineteenth century, whence sound
of industrial silence replaced with 
parades where hoof beats did pound
burgeoning and bustling city streets 
echoed along hardened ground
fealty to country soldered 
with faith, federation union freedom 
and job security did thence abound,

which holiday underwent 
transformations as bustle
and hustle proved myth regarding 
land of milk and honey – 
from straining of muscle
whereby life, liberty and pursuit 
of happiness less of physical tussle 

set (thank you Masons and Dixons) 
cornerstone to an invisible 
complex edifice originally from New York
forgotten builders, farmers, machinists, 
et cetera who laid groundwork
wrought by destruction 
from Civil War largesse and pork
loosed from the bottle in 
Antebellum South, when off flew cork
freeing a genie, which became rendered
supremely courtly poet, i.e. this former dork.
Form: Rhyme

Labor Day 2022

Courtesy of one or more tradesmen, 
first Monday in September set aside
for employees able, eager, ready 
and willing to acquire money 
to marry groom or bride
climb the corporate ladder or 
become an artisan, entrepreneur, technician 
to side step getting rung, drafted 
like an oxen plow, commandeered and chide
by management as insubordinate 
till retirement or join kiln fields 
once the music died

from plane over exertion, yet nonetheless 
sweat of brow efforts praised I espied 
searching me noggin brief history re: 
aforesaid day, where barbecues fried
dispersed aromas recognizing efforts 
of workers with quality control as guide
grievances against danger challenged 
sense and sensibility stalwart did not hide
the shenanigans that took place inside
sense and sensibility 
without prejudice nor pride

boardrooms in tandem with glories of 
American made products from those
who put figurative nose to grindstone – 
just common everyday Jane's and Joe’s
who weathered extreme temperatures, 
whereby bodies froze
but thanks to those who battled elements 
at large and snatched doze

birth of brute efforts eventually 
earned reserved renowned
borne couple shy of 
nineteenth century, whence sound
of industrial silence replaced with 
parades where hoof beats did pound
burgeoning and bustling city streets 
echoed along hardened ground
fealty to country soldered 
with faith, federation union freedom 
and job security did thence abound,

which holiday underwent 
transformations as bustle
and hustle proved myth regarding 
land of milk and honey – 
from straining of muscle
whereby life, liberty and pursuit 
of happiness less of physical tussle 

set (thank you Masons and Dixons) 
cornerstone to an invisible 
complex edifice originally from New York
forgotten builders, farmers, machinists, 
et cetera who laid groundwork
wrought by destruction 
from Civil War largesse and pork
loosed from the bottle in 
Antebellum South, when off flew cork
freeing a genie, which became rendered
supremely courtly poet, i.e. this former dork.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Enemy Within

He’s a conman without any conscience 
owned by Putin for secrets he keeps 
And as long as the blackmail continues 
Trump enjoys all the freedom he reaps
He created a trade war with tariffs
turned our allies into enemies
Like a mobster that uses extortion 
on each leader he put on the squeeze 
All the chaos he makes is intended 
part of Project 2025
In the wings, antebellum is waiting 
for its faithfully racist to rise
He is burning up all of our treasure
our taxes are paying for ICE
As they threaten and beat on the people
it is Trump retribution, done twice
He’s a loser who’s angry for losing
always yearning for praise of his work 
So he’s taking it out on the country 
where he’s commonly known as a jerk
He exists to get back at his rivals
as his thirst for revenge never sate
And the stench that we smell is the rotting 
of a soul filled with vengeance and hate
He’s dismantling our institutions 
and installing himself as a king 
With a ballroom where bribery’s welcomed 
and the players will all kiss the ring
Truth be told, he’s a swindler and traitor
who is drowning in lies and deceit 
He’s the enemy of all that is decent
and a loser who’s feeling the heat
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Fate On the Feathers

When I met you in the language of lonely war
three feathers fastened to your breast breathing sore
many graves of gentlemen knew your score and the devil deigned for more,
tears you had for all times rhymes and ribs broke from crimes making aching lore,
ink of fire you did pour, scold and scorch on skin red soft, truly poetry the maze and metaphor,

A feather you gave with each kiss and wound to savor
their texture smooth as silken vapor, tips cut cruel by sibyl's saber,
quills and spells I made of them, heaven and venom in every lash and letter
when love was innocent, revolutionary, rampant with rogue fight, rapid on soul river
with hawk's edge I wrote with might and flight, dominant on the flesh of firmament's blue leather,

Where the owl's point pierced the vellum of victory's scripture
antebellum affections covered our eyes with wings of damp wisdom and cool color,
together we took the touch of roses and razors, feeling the sting and arousal of friendly danger
as the nights knew more than days, secrets grew sweeter, dreams bolder, howls heavy and louder,
our zenith reached the zone quiet calm black, a raven's stem sealed the song of sleeping stranger -

J.A.B.
Form: Epic


Antebellum

I knew the hush of white verandas,
Where time lay soft as fading lace,
And magnolias bent like women dreaming
In their slow, untroubled grace.

The river held its silver rumor,
The fields wore gold without a sound,
And all the clocks of earth were gentle,
With no sorrow found.

Yet somewhere beyond the singing distance
A darker wind began to start—
A whisper moving through the cedars,
A fracture running through the heart.

I did not see the hands that labored,
Nor hear the breaking of the day;
Only the light, too calm, too perfect,
As truth was kept away.

Now memory is a haunted parlor,
Where portraits stare with patient eyes—
And every rose that once was gardened
Still learns too late what silence hides.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Viroqua Farmers' Market, June 2015

Pride flags fly high today
Folk music family
Mennonite bureaus
So many melons and windsocks and dreamcatchers
This place signals a rebellion
Echoing antebellum times, seething with vibrancy and it boiled over
And for a moment broke the inertia
Love wins today and today we know
That we are a people of progress
But koyaanisqatsi waits for us outside this field
Just past these barns
Most of us are forced to march with that army too but 
We can build a bulwark here and move it out beyond the dusty paths
It is up to you artisans, Amish, millennials, immigrants, farmers, poets
Today I secretly join your ranks

Labor Day 2019

Courtesy of one or more tradesmen, 
first Monday in September set aside
for employees able, eager, ready 
and willing to acquire money 
to marry groom or bride
climb the corporate ladder or 
become an artisan, entrepreneur, technician 
to side step getting rung, drafted 
like an oxen plow, commandeered and chide
by management as insubordinate 
till retirement or join kiln fields once died

from over exertion, yet nonetheless 
sweat of brow efforts praised I espied 
searching me noggin brief history re: 
aforesaid day, where barbecues fried
dispersed aromas recognizing efforts 
of workers with quality control as guide
grievances against danger challenged 
sense and sensibility stalwart did not hide
the shenanigans that took place inside

boardrooms in tandem with glories of 
American made products from those
who put figurative nose to grindstone – 
just common everyday Jane's and Joe’s
who weathered extreme temperatures, 
whereby bodies froze
but thanks to those who battled elements 
at large and snatched doze

birth of brute efforts eventually 
earned reserved renowned
borne couple shy of 
nineteenth century, whence sound
of industrial silence replaced with 
parades where hoof beats did pound
burgeoning and bustling city streets 
echoed along hardened ground
fealty to country soldered 
with faith, federation union freedom 
and job security did thence abound,

which holiday underwent 
transformations as bustle
and hustle
proved myth regarding land of milk and honey – 
from straining of muscle
whereby life, liberty and pursuit 
of happiness less of physical tussle 

set (thank you masons) cornerstone to an invisible 
complex edifice originally from New York
forgotten builders, farmers, machinists, 
et cetera who laid groundwork
wrought by destruction 
from Civil War largesse and pork
loosed from the bottle in 
Antebellum South, when off flew cork
freeing a genie, which became rendered
supremely courtly poet, i.e. this former dork.
Form: Elegy

Jacaranda Blue Cherry Blossom Pink Sunset Infused

Bestow on me an incorrect
3 leafed clover ephigy of 
buttercup due early spring May 

With I meandering through a maze
of cotton wool field lost
Trying best to avert the gaze of
the virile bull's with Horn's poised

Whilst listening to the joy of piercing
ringing mandolin string's and trooping
drum's in both left and right ear's on 
my head

Eminating from the Yee Grand Old
Antebellum Plantation guard house

Adorned with a lushious overhanging
archway on either side of it's giant's
causeway

If you dare imagine with Jacaranda Blue 
and Cherry blossom infused on a sunset 
pink hue nude muse

Instantaneously ushering forth a vision
of Scarlett O'Hara vivacious locks 

Gone with the wind like a kite upon a
hazy shimmering warm summer up draft

Augusta Georgia R.E.M night-swimming
aftermath

Premium Member Antebellum Elegy

Prologue
 
Abandoned and in disrepair the mansion 
Is dark now; a story behind every stanchion.
An unwitting monument to a way of life,
Since foreclosed through bloody civil strife.

Antebellum

The hush of summer evenings cued the trilling
(Fiddled on hind legs accompanied by warty pouches)
Chorus; pierced only by the discordant creaking 
Of unseen stairs rising to the house slave's quarters
Portending the disquiet of antebellum martyrs.

Wittiness trees attest in angles and chains
To the master's grid and shade the lanes
For the surrey whose wheels rutted the gateway 
(Become artifacts) en route to soirées of gaiety.

The prairie land, violated by steel and condescension 
To the roots of its towering grasses and purple gentian,
Forced to nourish seeds of an alien flora for hempen
Riches, patiently awaits its day of redemption.

Bricks of fertile earth fired over an Osage hearth,
By chattel hands, in mortise and tenons, gave birth
To a mansion at the prelude of a moral sea-change
That would divide the nation and break its chains. 

Current Era

Their lives deprived of enslaved labor, the once-lived
Voices ebbed a little as each generation removed.
Shrouded in leaves of time they are a mute bequeath
Indelibly recorded upon the stories that lie beneath.

Dreamer boy speak for them now. Sing for bluestem that switched
Against the sky nourishing the thundering herds that provisioned
Native tribes. Rage for those hobbled to sow but never to reap,
Weep for a Nation gone mad and seeds planted too deep.


Reflections after touring an abandoned antebellum mansion.
Copyright Paul M Thomson September 2011.
Form: Elegy

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