Great Lord

A long, long time ago, in a land far, far away, there was a great lord who lived in a castle. He had knights and nobles and servants, as well as mountains of gold, and the walls of his castle were impossible to break by anything from this earth. But the great lord’s most prized possession was his princess. The princess was more beautiful than all the ladies in all the courts of all of the noble and royal houses of the whole world. And she had an apple tree. It was a very special apple tree, and whoever she gave one of the apples from the tree would grow strong. 

One day, the princess saw a broken old knight with only a black spot on his shield where a family crest should be. Moved, she gave him an apple and returned to her castle. That could have been the end of the story. Perhaps the knight would have thanked her and been on his way. Or maybe they would have sat together under the apple tree once in a while. But that’s not what happened. The great lord was furious. He told her that her apples were only for the knights of the castle. Then he locked her in the castle’s tower. 

Now the old knight heard the weeping of the princess, and smelled her fragrance mixed with the salt of her tears. So he sat on his roan in front of the castle’s drawbridge with his apple in his hand. His heart began to beat with power, and his blood began to flow faster, and he became strong. Now as he became strong, he began to pray, and a myriad of angels appeared on the horizon. Some of the angels were kind bearers of good fortune. Others were wise deliverers of God’s word. But others were angels of vengeance, and there was fire in their eyes. The strong knight thought of the walls of Jericho, and he trembled. 

This is the story of how the great lord gave the princess a strong knight for a champion. 

Jade Princess

The Jade Princess rode across the desert
And the mad templar would always follow
He tracked her through years of hurt
And dusty seas of sorrow 

She started as a little sprout
The meaning of her name in Greek
Years now there has been no doubt
Her flourishing he would always seek 

Thank God he didn’t meet her in church on Sunday
Else marauding Dutch pirates had stole her away
Enchanted by eyes which held black flames of Goryeo
Nothing in the universe could ever make him let go
The law of God and love commanded him to stay
She blossomed into his beacon as all else was stripped away 

Her hips and breasts grew into succulent fruits of men
Her soul shrank into fodder in the back of the lion’s den
All of this came from an unquenchable anger
At the prospect of abandonment by God into perpetual danger
The little girl prayed and prayed and prayed
Yet deliverance was delayed and delayed and delayed 

But after years of mistrust, she beheld God’s face
So the king sent his knight of La Mancha
Calling to her from heaven’s embrace
He would wink and say, “don’t worry. I gotcha.” 

This is something that never should have happened
Or so they were told, in a sermon on a weekend
Templars must live locked inside temples
Unfazed by a little girl’s dimples 

All of you bastards hunting men to deplore
These stories of love have happened before
They come to fruition outside your parish gate
Unsullied by your gospel of hate 

It really doesn’t set a good tone
To insist that all strangers remain alone
It’s so ironic that only a young lady will see this
And buck like a mare scorched by your hubris

Do you really think they are just your ornaments
These diamonds from heaven trying to escape your predicaments
Just where did you get the gall
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall 

Captain of the Ark

In the grey and smoky fog of the dark and rainy street
Where youthful souls of corpses meet
A kindred spirit, so they don’t feel so alone,
A wild-eyed misfit prophet watches them run
Occasionally glancing at some banality on his smartphone 

No one knew he was there
Despite, or perhaps because of, the electric horror of what remained of his hair
He didn’t want their friendship
He told himself, as his heart sank like a scuttled ship
Into a dank abyss
Of diaphanous purposelessness 

All the dreams had already been had
But none of them came true
His cynicism would not survive the irony that the dream that wasn’t bad
He would have while awake, while wondering what to do 

He knew how he would be crucified
Ever since the dust-covered and war-torn months of 2005 

When his colleague trampled his nation’s honors
By the mouth of the enemy fellatiated
Our world-worn hero’s face was too ugly to be next to hers
So their answer was that he be castigated 

The dream one achieves when they escape their life’s custom
Until they scroll through their rolodex to see that they’re lonesome 

A curse one breaks with serendipity 

And then she was there
The angel he longed to see
Her sinews wrapped in delicious sweet milk
Her shoulders glazed by a honey cascade of hair
What would she make of his ilk
What does she see in me 

She didn’t reject his curious stare
If she were ugly, no one would care
Their murderous gaze wasn’t even skin deep
While he prayed the Lord her soul to keep 

With their pitchforks and cocktails of turpentine
The infernal masses would no longer contain their attacks
In their campaign against our friendly neighborhood Frankenstein
In order to protect their normal from facts 

A baby with harp and angel’s wings
Painted on vaulted ceilings among other things
In fever dreams above his head
He clutched the cold sheets beside him in bed 

The mysterious writers called it a boat
In that confusing old book they wrote
Then they called it a gold-plated box
In those tales not too different from Goldilocks 

What is this thing that the Philistines stole
It’s really just a human soul
It contains the law of God and lawgiver’s staff
But Leviathan has successfully split it in half 

The ticking of seconds
The conformity of chromosomes
Endless discussions for psychic brigands
Covering their heads in tinfoil domes 

For better or worse, the ark has been opened
And no one knows how this journey will end
How dare he make a friend
A happy finale makes the masses shudder
But in her hands is the rudder
There is no other 

They don’t get to tell me who I enjoy
Or whether it’s a girl or boy
Or quibble about too old or young
My words and kisses come from MY tongue 


You are so long overdue
For a poem that describes you
The effect you have on my heart
Is a divinely crafted art
Possessed by no woman before
Since before the days of yore 

Your beauty is a gleaming sigil
Of an angel’s unceasing vigil
That brought you to earth near to me
In my days of emotional entropy
Your smile, your laugh brings such joy
As to make me a man from a boy 

You fuel passion to my spirit
With every second you are near it
I love you my dearest Ana Maria Mironescu
And no fairy or pixie compares to you
Therefore my heart’s song is just a hum
Until the time when you come 

I am the Ocean

I am the ocean
Or really my heart is
A victim of furious emotion
Vulnerable to any cute Ms.
Who tricks me into daring
To trust that she can forgive
To believe that she is caring
And make love a life to live 

I am the sea
A source of life
To she who comes to me
I will fill her life
With adventure and passion
By my soul-changing aqua ink
In an overwhelming fashion
Through which I give her my drink 

I am the water
Utterly malleable
A dangerous father
For the one so fallible
To take my fish on the wrong day
In which I cover her with my waves
So that my love goes away
With no one there who saves 

However, she will not die in my deep
But in the depths of her loneliness
Her soul will not be mine to keep
In romantic and sensual holiness
Her love will just be a wasteland
Of scorpions and desert
With no sea eagle to take her hand
And to fly her from the hurt 

Blessed Virgin Jezebel

I watch you from so far away, unable to reach you as I am shackled to this skull and bones throne of propriety. You stand there alone, surrounded by legions of nascent Olympians. Every inch of you, from your cinnamon hair to your angel-winged feet, glistens from the covering of the juice of their passion. My heart is on fire. Yet my blazing heart falls broken to the floor, nothing but angry ashes, ripped out of my body and dashed upon jagged rocks by chords fashioned from the hair of Delilah the betrayer. There was once a hero who could break those bonds. I have his same source of strength. But will it be there for me? What road must I travel to find you? You, who are the only one who is loyal. You, the only one who is pure. 

A Poem I Wrote to Help with Insomnia

I lay awake very late
Contemplating my first date
With the perfect girl of my dreams
And my thoughts begin to produce reams
Of words of love and tenderness
As we sojourn through a wilderness
Of seemingly grand adventure
Which forces us to conjecture
About the character of our spirits
And the deeply hidden deposits
Of ash and pixie dust within us
And the things that make us behave thus

And we wonder if it’s our fault
Or if it’s some sort of gestalt
That gives us some kind of feature
And makes us a different sort of creature:
One that is capable of a kind of love
That is seen only in the form of a dove
Soaring up high in the skies
Above all the betrayal and lies
Unlike the citizens of this age
Who lash out in hate and rage 

I dream that one day we will be together
Walking hand in hand forever
Lending our strength to each other
Like a sister and brother
Only we’ll have a special kind of connection
Which transcends mental circumspection
And involves our electrified bodies
Conjuring brilliant rhapsodies
Of unbridled physical passion
Which will be the carnification
Of the purest form of worship
In a holy kind of relationship
For it is deep inside her
That I will become the presider
Of the divine ceremony
Of a spiritual matrimony
And the perfect union of souls
Which has always been the chief of my goals