Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon
ordered marinara with parmesan.
When he finished up his plate,
he burped and hopped a southbound freight.
Writing history can be a crime,
when you insist that it must rhyme.
Come on big men of the world
You that owe the power
You have already had much money
To move on soldiers
You have already had much gold
To feel stronger
You have already had luxury palaces
To live comfortably safer in
And fields, ground, soil, trees,
Rivers, lakes and seas.
You have taken in everything your eyes can see to the horizon.
But do you really believe that your power will last forever?
Don’t you remember Ramses the Third,
Cyrus of Persia,
Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar
Alexander the Great,
the emperor Augustus
and all the kings of the past up to Napoleon?
You’re now inventing new richness made of nothing
You’re exploiting the soil under its surface
And even you’re searching for more in the universe
Still cheating the poor!
Listen to the voice of the poet men of power:
don’t never forget
for whom God created all the things of the world!
Whenever you read my poems
Do not think
I’m a reservoir of knowledge
‘cause
Unlike Nebuchadnezzar
That great king of Babylon
Who sought refuge
In self-pride
That he made Babylon a great nation
And God brought him down
Unto his knees
To eat grass like Goats
I’m not like Nebuchadnezzar
I don’t even want to
think outside the box
‘cause
My energy is from God
It was the syrup of reviving spirit not only in Greece and Rome.
It created the poetic spring, flowing through the furrows of Omar Khayyam.
Rhythms of the harvest dance in barrels echoed within the bottles.
A cup of wine produced a Nebuchadnezzar of warm vibes.
It transformed a nebbish, inspired even the necropolis.
A psychosomatic solution.
Man was fine with wine.
The old drink of poetry is poisonous today.
Its red hue is like a warning sign of the toxic spray in the vineyard.
It, too, has lost its purity with humanity.
First published in The Literary Hatchet (issue#28).
In the book of Daniel there is a story told
The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego
King Nebuchadnezzar made a decree
At the sound of the music, fall down and worship the gold idol or you will see
A fiery furnace will be your fate
Get on your knees before it's too late
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego refused to worship the gold idol, no way
Our God, whom we serve can deliver us from the fiery furnace, we will not obey
Into the fiery furnace they were thrown
However, King Nebuchadnezzar saw they were not alone
The king said there is a fourth man like the Son of God
They are NOT hurt in the midst of the fire where they trod
The King said Shadrach, Meshach, Abed-Nego come here
Their bodies the fire did not seer
As they came from the furnace door
Their garments were as before
King Nebuchadnezzar said, Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego
Who sent and angel to protect them because they trusted God I know
Any people or nation who about their God say anything amiss
Will be cut to pieces because No other God could have saved them like this
Snake cuts through the flames of judgement
Sigils become homogenized black.
Snake cuts through the flames of judgement
Sigils become homogenized
Back
Through the dread cesspool of filth
Filth defines what defiles
Nebuchadnezzar unlocks the key
The broken god may rest today
And forevermore.
For the One in Flesh is dead.
A sunflower cries red blood, for Babylon slays it with mirth
May medicine and shields be given to Ukraine en mass
Have mercy on us, Christos Autogenes, bringer of rebirth
May the foes melt as snow in the sun’s light on the Earth
May luck smile on the sunflowers laying on the grass
A sunflower cries red blood, for Babylon slays it with mirth
King Nebuchadnezzar is a poor lion of little worth
He bows down and sacrifices lambs to the blind god Saklas
Have mercy on us, Christos Autogenes, bringer of rebirth
They cry for help, but their voice has not escaped the darkness with mirth
Fire burns in the north and south, in the west and east, alas
A sunflower cries red blood, for Babylon slays it with mirth
If one gives food and drink to the children and seeds of worth
They shall surpass this mighty kingdom of Babylon without brass
Have mercy on us, Christos Autogenes, bringer of rebirth
I ran from the land of Babylonia of my birth
I left Babylonia to make a call on the grass
A sunflower cries red blood, for Babylon slays it with mirth
Have mercy on us, Christos Autogenes, bringer of rebirth
A precious jewell of the Mdzimba mountains,
A king is a king by his rulership of the people.
My king is a father of orphans,
My king is an education to the poor,
My king is a bill of rights to the widows,
My king is a sprinting leg and a tough knee—
My king is food to the table to the disabled poet.
But I won't say 'Long live' to my king.
A king comes and a king goes, so is the system of this world.
I call my king Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon.
With more wisdom and knowledge bears the trap of pride and folly,
But born in this kingdom I bear in delight.
But I won't say, "Long live the king,"
I'd rather say, "Long live the monarchy."
Three is that magical number so fascinating,
Oft-repeated in history.
In the Bible, it is the Holy Trinity
But there’s plenty more equally captivating.
On Golgotha’s hill were erected three stakes
Three gospels are called Synoptics
Triangles make most pleasing optics
And three times a lady the pop lyric states.
When you were a kid you got three chances
The third time’s the charm ... got you a-switchin’,
Three blind mice in the farmer’s wife’s kitchen
Got their tails cut off with sharpened lances.
Shakespeare’s three witches brewed up a pot,
But when Nebuchadnezzar looked into the fire
To check on the results of his uncontrollable ire
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were not.
There were three bears, three little pigs,
And three Billy goats gruff,
And, as though that were not enough,
The old drunk took three swigs.
I could go on and on, making the point
That three is the number to be
In literature, fables, and history
But, continuing might soon disappoint.
Written on February 10, 2021
For the 3 Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco
dark dribbles drool
pulling pulpy puke
moaning mist nauseated
by blurs overrated
haughty heels hoisted
felon feasts forage
tactic trends trained
seeped'n sassy crave
punctured pride traced
lanky lurch lit
fiery fondling fits
salient sieve spit
dark days dribbles
vying voluptuous parable.
'20:03:08:11:21
Note: Dedicated to Nebuchadnezzar.
and the Lord delivered the King of Judah
into the hands of King Nebuchadnezzar.
the choice gems of the Judean royal family —
chosen to serve in the Babylonian palace.
veggies, please…no meat, no wine
from the King’s table...no defilement.
God caused the chief official to show
favor and sympathy to Daniel.
in ten days bright and cheery faces
continued their act that pleased the Lord.
to Daniel and his friends, God gave
knowledge and understanding;
to Daniel - visions and dreams of all kinds.
none was found to be better than Daniel,
Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah renamed
Belteshazzar, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.
and this begins their veggie tales…
some thought lions might eat vegetarians...
some thought veggies could be flame-broiled…
hear the cacophony of the dithering instruments:
horn, flute, zither, lyre, harp and all
the nations crack, crumble, fall
to worship the image of gold
but…
Daniel and his friends
wait for a better day
a trumpet sound
where every knee will bow
to the King of Kings.
10/29/2019
Could I find in the Holy Word,
“I came, I saw, I conquered.”
Did Pompe In Julius Caesar’s time,
Chanted those very words?
Had those repairing led me to
View an intriguing design I altered
Was I then given a “Temple” Tour,
And Like Nebuchadnezzar RETURNED?
Did I form a Buccaneer and Pirate
Group to PLUNDER, taking what was shown?
From then on, did I repeatedly
Come Survey and plundered?
“I came, I saw, I conquered.”
Should that now be my motto?
Was given a “Temple” Tour,
Like Nebuchadnezzar we RETURNED!
We repeatedly take what was
Shown to us that day, bit by bit!
Pirates and Buccaneers ????? we
Became, O see! We want, we want!
From then on either in a Group
Or singly, we repeatedly Returned!
I came, I saw, I plundered!”
God knows that this is Wrong!
In the sixth hour,
of the sixty-sixth day,
another doubter stood on the edge
of the dark abyss
Void chasm in the mind;
canyon to nowhere,
null directions written on a blank page
In the sixth hour,
of the sixty-sixth day,
a scoffer peered down into the darkness
And in that dire, precipice moment ...
a fateful decision had to be made
Babylonian in nature,
the implications were grave
Willingly eat the Nebuchadnezzar curse,
swallow the rage
Stoke the volatile belly of beastly hatred,
then sphincter lip open the cage
This skeleton key decision has you so afraid
Explosive emotions ... violently untamed
Wrecking havoc,
innocent blood will have the soul stained
Every precipice moment begins and ends
In the sixth hour,
of the sixty-sixth day
Pridefully stand tall, and
fall asunder or bend to pray ...
the choice is yours
Fear the scarlet marked nay,
should you choose to temptingly fall that way
In the sixth hour
of the sixty-sixth day ...
The birth of reprobate iniquity
died in a stillborn womb,
where mercy was taken away
Mystic marrow tells the time but an ashtray rarely ponders. Hard to receive constant delivery of smoked ash and waste. Wish not a coat filled to the brim with gym shoes then? Well that simply will not do. One must be attired appropriately for all weathers and all seasons and a car seat is mot a gymnasium nor a sports hall so never ever think that it is for something like a sponge could find out who would then inform the tea cloth who would then inform the rising moon and tides and so on and on and on and on and on. Like a gigantism of rotating square cooking devices with little beady eyes. Sealed sealant searching sails. And an archetypical archaic ant arriving with a broom and buttoned tunic plus a feathered hat sparkling. Wow. Walk a waltz then. Good. On bridges. Rope bridges only. Z Nebuchadnezzar Z at ten baboons cooking on camping stones to nineteen pig trotters typing on a screen. Z xxxxx and always wipe bottoms of pans with a dirty sock from the washing machine.
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