The Land of Milk and Honey

I go to work before the dawn
I get home long after its gone
To provide for my family
In this Great Land of the Free!

I hardly get to see my wife and kids
except for facebook pics and vids
they post what they can so I can see
In this Great Land of the Free!

Each day, I bite my tongue in restraint
and make certain not to make a complaint
how dare I want more than just survive to be
In this Great Land of the Free!

With great contempt and ridicule
they will call me an entitled fool
Should I dare slightly disagree
In this Great Land of the Free

They howl when told we are corporate slaves
being worked full tilt to early graves
and their own chains they refuse to see
In this Great Land of the Free

Over priced goods with over taxed rates
but I must smile and pretend that its all great
because, after all, at least I’m blessed to be
In this Great Land of the Free.

No Step on Snek for tyrant Uncle Sam,
But for corporations, they won’t give a damn.
For the merchant’s coin, they’re shackled in glee
In this Great Land of the Free.

All life is sacred, until, of course we’re born
and then we’re held with an odd sort of scorn
and are then held in perpetual wage slavery
In this Great Land of the Free.

I no longer struggle for self alone,
and thus try to cast off title of worker drone
to be more than they want me to be
In this Great Land of the Free.

By blood or sweat, I will clear the way
to keep those slaver’s chains away
from clasping upon my family
In this Great Land of the Free.

No sacrifice will be to great
to ensure my kids’ a blessed fate
of truly living lives that are free
In this Great Land of the Free…

Where have all the Salamanders gone?

I remember a time long ago

Back in the days when I was young still,

Around the family farm I would go, 

An adventurer seeking his thrill. 

I would flip stones and wood on the ground

And there in the damp earth it would be, 

Each and every time,  so quickly found:

A salamander just waiting for me!

I remember, how cool to the touch 

and yet how tough their skin seemed to be and how they would give me quite the fuss 

as they attempted to wriggle free 

I, being young, would always worry 

that holding them tight would cause them pain 

so I was always in a hurry 

to adore and then free them again.

No longer young, rather, an old man,

I find that I am a bit confused.

I still flip things whenever I can 

but beneath, I find the earth unused.

It's to the point I can't help but ask 

each time I flip, before I move on

In my now wholey unfruitful task 

Where have all the salamanders gone?

An Epitaph

Beneath this stone that fell from the sky

Lay just another normalish guy

Hopes and dreams once filled his youthful head

Which life dashed and completely shattered

Like this stone which has stricken him dead

But long before his skull was scattered

Amongst the sand's most commonest grains

Leaving behind forgotten remains.

Columbus Day

With just a vision and convicted soul,

He and his men faced the great ocean's roll

Though things did not go quite as planned:

He sought for new routes, but found a new land!

For the stars of our destiny aligned

And the Gods gave a gift to Western Kind

One that we alone were to manifest

And thus from sea to sea, we became blessed.

For we pressed our will, and we tamed the land

So that our cities could grow fast and grand.

Now, we would not be here if not for him

So fill your glass up to the very brim,

Lift it in a toast, and then proudly say

Brethren, have a Happy Columbus Day!

Hymn to Juno Lucina

Dearest Juno Lucina, I have received great news!
That after examination all of those issues
that made my Son’s birth a risk
by your divine hand, have been whisked
away to some unknown place
and you have left, in your sweet grace,
a day to look forward to in a hopeful light,
one of joyous celebration and delight.

Mundus Patet

You may not see the mist swirling around the ground,

Wrapping around your ankles as if to pull you down…

Nor the fog that isn’t fog, cold and brief,

leaping from the earth in joyous grief

You may not see it , or touch it yet

but it is there to be sure, so do not forget:

Say a prayer for your ancestors and passed Kin,

set a meal for them to gather and partake in…

Wine for those spirits who enjoy a spirits drop

Milk and honey, or soup with bread to sop

Candles flame to light their path to and fro

incense to purify and enjoy before they go.

Say the names you know with reverence and respect

and nameless ask forgiveness, that you do not neglect

to honor all kindred, for though some names escape us

we honor them still, for they shaped us, and won’t forsake us.

Before dear Ceres, make certain to bow

And make an offering to her of a sow,

Or gather fruit, flowers, or a handful of wheat

To lay in offering at the Goddess' feet 

In gratitude for the boundaries she holds fast 

That the shadowed veil continues to last.

Or wear a poppy proudly upon your breast

That she may count you among her blessed...

Dis Pater, Dis Pater, Do not forget Dis Pater!

Say a blessing, and light a flame in his Honor!

A plate of food, a glass of Wine

A hymn and prayer said in honor of the divine.

Let no lip utter, nor mind give the thought

That this day came, and you observed it not.

May you be praised and held in esteem instead

That you fulfilled your oath to your honored dead,

and to the Gods and Goddesses most deserving

you gave praise, and offering, thus preserving

rites that have dimmed, but have not died

and your children may carry this on with pride

that one day your name may be honored as well

when you pass on to where your ancestors dwell.

Prayer of the Plazèràth

Beyond the rippling ocean of a veil that we can not breach lay a world much as our own. It is different in many aspects, from Names and styles to a plethora of historical events. So many that they can not be adequately documented here.

On the continent of Lyria there is a village named Hono Solla in the nation of Fenrüt. The village is simple, but ambitious. They belong to a sect of social and religious followers of the ancient people of Prima Solla. And call themselves Socia î Sollea. The citizens there are made up of people from around the world, and while it is not large, it grows.

In the far-off nation of Plazèràth are a good deal of followers of the Prima Solla Gods and Goddesses, separated by hundreds of miles from each other.  The dream to live in a community of fellow followers of The Sollea, as the Gods and Goddesses are called, is like a flame that burns in each of their hearts.

A couple of Plazèràth citizens involved in the higher offices of the Socia î Sollea decided to move to Hono Solla. It wad a matter of delight, and no small honor that they shed the cloak of their Plazèràth citizenship and make their way to Hono Solla within that nation of Fenrüt.

Feasts were made in celebration, and members of the Socia î Sollea still in Plazèràth watched in awe and a fair amount of envy as the expats were accepted in great joy and festivity. What a great honor, they thought jealously. Sacrifices were made. Libations were poured, and the Socia î Sollea knew joy and merriment.

However, Lyria was not just a home to the people of Fenrüt and the colony of the Socia î Sollea. It was a decent sized continent with multiple nations. One such nation being the Kazrýç. 

The Kazrýç eyed the Fenrüt as not an enemy to be conquered, but rather, a territory filled with brethren to be Reclaimed to restore the honor of their once great empire, fallen so long ago.

Lyria, then, was soon heard echos of marching columns as Kazrýç moved into action.  

In hushed tones, some Socia Î Sollea in Plazèràth exchanged conversations outside the ears of leadership. There was pride that Plazèràth Socia î Sollea would be able to defend Hono Solla. They remarked that either Fenrüt would notice their commitment to their new home and the Sollea would receive honor and glory by this....or perhaps, in a loss, the Kazrýç would recognize their Valor and determination and the Sollea would be honored by virtue of the struggle.

As Kazrýç and Fenrüt marched to war, the Socia Î Sollea in Plazèràth were dismayed to see that their former countrymen were fleeing Hono Solla. Not everyone fled, but the leaders from Plazèràth did, and did so as quickly as they could. 

With great horror and embarrassed shame, libations were poured and Sacrifices were made to the Sollea for the protection of Hono Solla, now all but abandoned to both the Fenrüt who would never trust those following the Sollea from Plazèràth again. 

Sacrifices made and libations poured that Hono Solla would be protected from the Kazrýç as it marches across Fenrüt.  

Sacrifices made and Libations poured that the honor of the Socia î Sollea would not be entwined in the eyes of the Sollea with the dishonor of the cowards who fled. 

Now safe in a new harbor of refuge, far from the abandoned village, those disgraced in The eyes of the Plazèràth Socia î Sollea commented on social affairs...world affairs...religious affairs... so arrogant as to not even entertain the idea that their thoughts and opinions...even their titles within the Socia Î Sollea were muddied with the filth of their cowardice. They would, for all of their boisterous blubbering and sense of self worth would hold the title of Çovæti (dishonorable) within within hearts and prayers of their Plazèràth colleagues. 

The evening prayer would often end thusly: "...and may the eternal Sollea and all of their servants and spirits see me and mine apart from the Çovæti. May my ancestors speak for me.  May the spirits of my land speak for me. May the Sollea save the Hono Solla, and may we have the opportunity to build a Solla within Plazèràth. Built by true Socia Î Sollea, of proud Plazèràth nature. Never to fall to foe from without or Çovæti from within."