Today is the feast of St. Claire
A favourite personage of mine.
She defeated Saracens with her faith.
Blinded Nation's people were shouting:
crucify him, "he said, he is the son of God".
His blood on us and our children.
Cross smeared with his blood,
condemned, through nails
joined with cluster of malefactors.
2000 years of infatuation,
without acknowledgement of guilt,
there is no pardon and no recompensation.
Some were converting individually,
Samaritans, Saracens, Zealots:
Chesterton, Pascal, Stein, Brandstaetter...
Others have been scoffing.
Punishment will rotate as the wheel,
until Covenant will be fulfilled.
From Valhalla’s fortress of spears and shields,
Valkyrie riders make their daily runs…
Crossing Bifrost to Midgard’s battlefields,
Harvesting warriors till Ragnorak comes.
Flying from Valhalla on their war horses,
Thundering hooves beat like old battle drums,
Odin’s blond daughters watching the forces--
Harvesting warriors till Ragnorak comes.
Legionnaires, Pikemen, Hussars and Spartans;
Storm Troopers, Crusaders and Saracens;
Musketeers, Vikings, and Gladiators;
Watusi, Cossacks, and Conquistadors.
As long as men hear the sounds of war drums,
They’ll harvest the best till Ragnorak comes.
Valkyries search for those to stand vanguard,
Recruiting Odin’s Einherjar armies.
Warriors pass Valgrind to live in Asgard--
Honored to be served by the Valkyries.
Hoplites, Commandoes, and Mujahideens;
Samurais, Yeomen, and US Marines;
Guerrilas, Dragoons, and Panzer Tankers;
Grenadiers, Mamelukes, and Bezerkers.
As long as men hear the sounds of war drums,
Valkyries harvest till Ragnorak comes.
I think I'll go to Memphis
'cause it's 1957
We'll ride the Jim Crow stagecoach...because we're young and prideful
Well why not?
It's 1957!
we'll all grab bricks
we'll all grab clubs we'll
all grab firehoses
And if our conscience bothers us on a later date,
we can just tell ourselves that our enemies were not our fellow countrymen with empty
pockets and different skin,
we can tell ourselves that they weren't Christians.
They were Saracens.
dirty Saracens marching not towards freedom,
but towards our holy land, a seat next to a
white woman.
And bygumandbygod, we will hold our temple sacred, we will hold this sacred dirt.
Because it is the way the lord would handle it.
Round goes the spiral
looping the path.
Straight stand the stones
high in green grass.
Round goes the moat
circling the tor;
solitary stanchion saracens
high altars they bore.
Round goes the blood
red twining the past
tall stand the grave stones
memories n’er made to last.
Round goes the gate
in the churchyards mall
through walks the sacred
peacocks ashen white pall.
Round go the penitents
lead through the hatch
lonesome lost lifetimes
Avebury’s dispatch.
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