Thursday, October 18, 2012

A Consortium of Grecian Time

Soldier, poet, dramatist
Father of tragedy
Changed the
Way we smile.

Mathematical in its
Deductions and axiomatic
Postulating. A
Geometry known not prior to
That parallel
But one
Line may

Biblical in breadth
A diaspora’s been met
Sowing seeds
Distant far

As close as man
may be
To apotheosis
We’ve yet to see

Classic beauty
Sunbelt crush
Serenity of a
Steadied poise
Lost to
Collapsing praise
 Time knows not
What values one puts upon the individual ray, forgetting
About the center’s bubbling blaze—

Throughout history
Man has pushed forgiveness
To its gravest ends
Testing what
Could be rationally
 Abused before
Hollowed ends

Humanity is a contrast economy
We strive to breathe descending views
what it means to understand
the opposing schools
We’ve pandered
For centuries long
Creating pacts and promises
Have been
Predicated upon deceitful hues
That wither, wither, fray

We have
Our communion
And yet, we have our
Betrayals, and they are
 felt ever the more
inherent, when composed unto the flesh, and
     unrestrained when composure only lives
yet, we lived,
              albeit in frenzy’s first breath taken,
amongst the soul,
 of the undisciplined, molting clear those spectrums
oft abused

By timelines, we learn to merge into one, into
The Blur that forges a definition, into
That which has yet begun…

from the sun, to the sea and the sky to the tide
No matter the context, in spite of the ride, the lengths and shackles yet unfettered about malnutrition’s feet, deposed by all the deposits of those underachievement’s we’ve ever learned to make… and yet we’ve always understood how to take aim, and that has to count for something, right?

Mankind has ever found itself as the child of a God, how does one live up to that shadow?

So, just to cast their own beacon of distinction, we often abuse the grace of our father, we often stray from the generous path plotted fresh for our soles alone, and instead of living in luxury’s shadow, we chose to bathe in the cold showers of absence, where we so eagerly became
The makers of rain, irrational beasts
Amidst the moistened shade

And yet…
We meditate
Upon mentally
Equipping ourselves
To deal with what comes our way

To follow nature
As does the stem
To its thorn, is
To disseminate
Good and bad
From the indifferences
In-between the dark and the gray

Run, ragged tryin’
     To catch grace upon wings once craved
But these were not intended for

Man. Bull. Lion
     Egg. Coiled—
Cracking, splits
Ticking, cloaks we mask
Through beards untamed.
Hands cease  from cross

A rece
Ssion we
Simply can
Not return
To the grammar that’s been
Given to us upon
Our births…and we run
         Away, frightened by the photo albums taken from our father’s early days, brimstone, we’ve seen it in his eyes, we’ve smelt it upon his breath, touched it on his hands

Yet, because of our irrational fear
We forget
Warmth is not reserved for hell alone
No matter
What we’ve done
Our father
Accept us back

Warmly, in his arms,
The truth can never be rescinded
Not by man or any other beasts we may encounter for advice
Yet, Just that alone, makes one wonders
Why do we seek advice from outside sources
When the wealth of the world exists within our father


  1. Very deep thinking here Fred. (Hu)man is his own worst enemy. Life should all be so simple really, yet, we never stop wanting, more.

  2. so cool to see you read this fred..
    my fav part, key part, heart part was...
    No matter
    What we’ve done
    Our father
    Accept us much grace in this...

  3. Like the weave of math and logic all the way through to the grammar remark, quite the tail your Greeced. There is my illogical grammar there, hope you didn't swear. Being your own worst foe, might stub your toe haha oh and blogger hates you once more not showing up in the blog role at my shore.