Category Archives: tragedy

Probably 6:45?

Busy, busy, busy. So much to do, so little time. Yanked in every direction by the passing threads and hands of everything and everyone who’d simply like to reach out. Many thoughts and many feelings fly about in my head, rushing one way or another, always making sure their near misses are just close enough to give me a heart attack. I do hope you enjoy the poem today. What a wonderful day it is.

Sinisterium

How the bell tolls

Sounding at the hour

Not to mark the time

But something much more dour

That taste in your mouth

Errant vicissitude

Turn from sweet to sour

Ashes then and ashes now

Ring around the Rosie

And we all fall down

A cacophony of sirens

Binding men in liar’s irons

See there so hidden in the fog

There the pyres, there the pylons

Sinister in their construction

Obscure in their function

Can you hear them shrieking?

Can you hear their desperation?

Mark the date

For your infernal consultation

I set the scene

You play the part

Watch right there

Shadows in the dark

Tragedy In Antiquity

Good morning, all. I have been thinking much on history’s many people. I find it easy to remember the events, the macro, so to speak, but it can often be difficult to fathom that every individual person that has ever lived was in fact a person, that they loved and hated and joked just the same as now. I try to think of them. Even if I can’t remember their names, I try to remember them. To not let their stories be forgotten if I can help it. They existed. Try not to forget.

Aegyptus

An ancient Pharaoh rests in her tomb

Dreaming dreams of her Kingdom’s doom

Before her death it did so loom

But come to pass it did so soon

Great commandments of a God

Covered now in sand and sod

Her people, their Pharaoh, did they laud

But now you’ll find but just facade

Dead and gone

Ghost and a pawn

She never did so see the dawn

As coffers drained and blood was drawn

O Cleopatra, last of the Pharaohs,

Bite of an asp, or so many arrows?

On a path that suddenly narrows

Sleeping now in holes and barrows.

Your Love, Marcus Antonius, Mark Antony,

Does he so too rest in sand and sod?