Tag Archives: poems

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Three Poems

189 words

Crawl

Crawl across them, warrior!
The corpses are your own, the skulls
you stared in to the eyes of a week or
two ago, now nothing but death before
you. Their mothers weep, somewhere, Read more …

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“I Shall Stand Against Them” & Three Haikus

152 words

I Shall Stand Against Them

I shall stand against them, whether I be like
the willow, or the ancient oak, trembling
or impersonally strong, I shall stand against them.
The sun may shine upon my corpse, and cause
the rot to quicken, but in my memory they
sing, and I shall stand again. Read more …

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Not Allowed To Mourn

115 words

O stolzere Trauer! Ihr ehernen Altäre,
Die heiße Flamme des Geistes nährt heute ein gewaltiger Schmerz,
Die ungebornen Enkel.

— Georg Trakl

Read more …

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Donny as Shakespeare

69 words

A shithole is a shithole
by any other name.
Our minds are bright and wits full.
We will not play the game, Read more …

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The Righteous Losers

208 words

“Life is so much better when you simply stop caring
what the dregs of the earth think about you.”—In Mala Fide

Consider all the human dregs:
The losers, misfits, cads, bad eggs—
The scoundrel, liar, thief, and worm
Engendered from substandard sperm.  Read more …

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Two New Poems

164 words

To Apeneck Sweeney

In what you write and ask
I smell the reek of herring,
matzo balls . . . Your task
is subtle, almost daring,

Read more …

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Two New Poems

209 words

Charlie Manson (1934–2017)

1.
Well, Charlie Manson’s dead,
just like poor Sharon Tate.
Upon his wrinkled head
above his eyes, the fate,

of his tattooed Swastika
is certain, after so,
so many years. The shiksa,
pale as November snow,  Read more …

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We Are Alone & Other Poems

Michael Triegel, Deus Absconditus, 2013 (detail)

472 words

We Are Alone

for Chris Telford

We are alone. Nature, the Old Gods, our
Beloved Ancestors have left us far
Behind and far below. Get used to it,
Folks. We’re on our own. Deal with it. Commit
Yourself to this and to the folk that you’re
Part of, here and now. No more ancestors
But ones we ourselves might become before
We pass the bright torch we received unlit.
We are alone.  Read more …

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Remembering Roy Campbell:
October 2, 1901–April 22, 1957

1,542 words

Roy Campbell was a South African poet and essayist. T. S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, and Edith Sitwell praised Campbell as one of the best poets of the inter-war period. Unfortunately, his conservatism, Nietzscheanism, and Catholicism, as well as his open contempt for the Bloomsbury set and his participation in the Spanish Civil War on the Fascist side have led his works to be consigned to the memory hole. Read more …

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“In the Shadow of Mount Rushmore” & Other Poems

677 words

In the Shadow of Mount Rushmore

Though forever asleep,
We endeavor to keep
Steady footing on treadmills
With our noses to grindstones. Read more …

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Horses on the Camargue

356 words

In the grey wastes of dread,
The haunt of shattered gulls where nothing moves
But in a shroud of silence like the dead,
I heard a sudden harmony of hooves,
And, turning, saw afar
A hundred snowy horses unconfined,
The silver runaways of Neptune’s car
Racing, spray-curled, like waves before the wind.
Sons of the Mistral, fleet
As him with whose strong gusts they love to flee,
Read more …

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At the Metropolitan Gallery

98 words

I.
What will they say of us,
those who soon will come after
we lie dead in our pus,

our decadent bad art
that evokes a cuckold’s laughter? Read more …

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To Marcus Aurelius

150 words

Good night, Marcus. Blow out the light
and close your book. Where Ursa runs
the stars’ alarm now fills the night.
Heaven speaks to us in tongues,
a barbarian’s fear-stricken shriek
your Latin cannot understand.
Eternal terror, dark and bleak,
reigns over our frail mortal land. Read more …

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Back to the Future

90 words

Let us go to the station
to marvel at the marble
sprayed with graffiti.

Let us take a ghost train,
jump cargos to Chicago,
with shiny fin-tailed cars.

Read more …

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Wardrobe Restoration

99 words

The art nouveau oak moulding, chipped and cracked,
barely hanging from a rusty nail,
begs restoration. Klimt’s young maids untacked,
1910 doors, the flailing clothing rail,

fin de siècle mirror, long have lacked
a master’s living hand. In the hot stale
air of the cluttered loft its owner packed
and fled, dust lies decades deep in a pail. Read more …

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The Pyramids of Detroit

71 words

The silverfish climb walls
and crawl the faded floors;
eat peeled wallpaper, balls
of lint in broken drawers;

across veneer, find pairs
of thick and chipped wenge legs,
art deco chaise lounge chairs,
upholstery now in rags. Read more …

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Video of the Day
A Poem for Our People

10:16

A reading and brilliant exposition of the relevance of Rudyard Kipling’s “If” to the White Nationalist struggle.

https://youtu.be/PCgZTAH6P0w

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Owls

77 words

The valley sinks into the mist;
the yellow ring of the horizon
eclipses the cornea of the sun;
the ridge blooms purple on my wrist,

fading, inimical and black.
The earth exhales into the dusk,
frost forming in the shaded husk
of afterglows. My wine and sack

Read more …

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For London: Not a Prayer, Unless . . .

117 words

The waters soon close dark and velvet-heavy
around a stone big enough to smash a skull,
the ripples torpid as in mud or gravy.
What will it take to clarify these dull,
foetid waters, for our men to reject
The notion that wild animals are as tame
as they; our feral women a foul object
one shudders to give credence to, or name.
Read more …

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Lines To Be Read Aloud on International Women’s Day at a School Assembly

112 words

What would you like to do, dear little girl,
When you grow up? Something with animals
Or children, perhaps? Schoolyard love soon palls
And that scary blank expanse you see unfurl—
Look closer: it’s a blueprint for a sort
Of intangible palace you’re supposed to build
Around yourself. Then, at last, when you have willed
It into being (no hurry; women fought

To clear a wide array of paths for you),  Read more …

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“Rumour Mill” & “Wife”

176 words

Rumour Mill

Rumours may have reached you of
my imminent demise.
They’re largely true, the eyes
of Don Quixote’s every love

look down and almost see my flask
of wine, beer, whisky, rum,
fuel that helped me come
this far, where bells now lift my mask.  Read more …

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Three Poems

501 words

You There to the Left of Me

Your world is rotten, but even more than
That, it’s hypocritical, it doesn’t
Consider its rottenness as rotten
Because it’s as willfully blind as it’s bent
(And by bent I meant crooked, and I meant

Corrupted, too). I hate everyone of
You, every so-called liberal thinker wont to
Repeat popular mantras like “One love”
(As if you wrote it yourself, as if you
Were original, as if it was true  Read more …

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Somewhere over Germany, 1945

30 words

At the gates of heaven
he did not know the names
beyond the bombing bay.

But many miles away
he could still see the flames
judging the dead in Dresden.

Read more …

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Europe 1945

DresdenSkeleton138 words

And now spring comes to the starved and blackened land
where the tailless abominable angel has spent his passion;
dead roots are twined through the bones of a broken hand;
now death, not Schiaparelli, sets the fashion.

In the twentieth century of the Christian era
the news-hawk camera man, no Botticelli,
walks on this stricken earth with Primavera,
and Europe cries from the heart of her hungry belly. Read more …

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Play “Misty” for Me, Beethoven

404 words

I.

The pure products of America do anal
as the spent end of what once was Europe
waits and wavers, wax on the stem of the Black Pope’s
candle, chalk ghost of the last Neanderthal
bloodline washed from its last daughter’s birth canal
as from a chalkboard or a warehouse floor.
Uterine father – wrist-deep, to the neck – where
do you look when the headlight fills the tunnel?  Read more …

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Remembering Rudyard Kipling:
December 30, 1865 to January 18, 1936

3,063 words

John Collier, Portrait of Rudyard Kipling, circa 1891

John Collier, Portrait of Rudyard Kipling, circa 1891

Nobel Prize-winning poet and novelist Rudyard Kipling was born on this day in 1865. For an introduction to his life and works, see the following articles on this site.

Read more …

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Two Poems for Veterans Day

Paul Nash, “We Are Making a New World,” 1918

523 words

November 24, 1916

Author’s Note:

A sestina written for all of our folk who were duped into being part of that first war to end all wars, that brother-killing-brother war, that beginning of our end.

Read more …

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Veterans Hospital

84 words

Some nights are never-ending hells
for these old veterans in our care.
We do not hand out pills, but shells,
as out of battlefields they stare
from over sixty years ago
on far-off Guam or Guadalcanal.
With trembling hands they try to show
how the bravest or youngest fell.
Read more …

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Remembering Roy Campbell:
October 2, 1901–April 22, 1957

1,542 words

Roy Campbell was a South African poet and essayist. T. S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, and Edith Sitwell praised Campbell as one of the best poets of the inter-war period. Unfortunately, his conservatism, Nietzscheanism, and Catholicism, as well as his open contempt for the Bloomsbury set and his participation in the Spanish Civil War on the Fascist side have led his works to be consigned to the memory hole. Read more …

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The Eternal Recurrence Revived
Remnants of a Season:
The Collected Poems of Robert N. Taylor

roberttaylor1,637 words

Remnants of a Season: The Collected Poems of Robert N. Taylor
Edited by Joshua Buckley and Michael Moynihan
Waterbury, Vt./North Augusta, S.C.: Dominion/Ultra, 2016

Beauty given physical substance is a magical thing. Robert Taylor’s poetical retrospective, Remnants of a Season, is as magical as they come. Read more …

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