prepared not, was momma,
Gifts, from the Muze's
“Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.” ― William Butler Yeats
Friday, October 18, 2024
On Conception
prepared not, was momma,
Saturday, September 21, 2024
They Shall Preserve Their Children
He shall redeem his people.
They shall preserve their children.
There is justice, there are rules,
There are consequences.
The Gods are gardeners, not engineers.
They are parents, not monarchs.
They have sufficient power to restore their children.
Universal Salvation comes from Orthodox Belief,
personal submission to Eternal Laws,
and demonstrated willingness to follow the Gods.
I strive to forgive others their trespasses,
as they forgive mine.
I take the Baptismal Covenant,
renewed weekly in the Sacramental Service.
I make Temple Covenants that bind me
to my Spouse, Parents, and Children.
I then share these Covenants with my ancestors.
Theirs is the choice to accept or reject.
This is Universal and Eternal Salvation,
through Christ's Blood and Atonement with the Gods.
Because of the work in the Garden of Gethsemane,
I am not required to perform a temple endowment and sealing,
for all of my ancestors, I just need to try.
Tuesday, September 3, 2024
On Newtonian Rationalisation
Newton may have been,
the first modern rationalist, or last medieval magician, a modern Merlin.
The rate of acceleration may increase
In positive and negative proportions
Calculus is a measurement
of the rate of change.
First shared with the world,
in "Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica"
He then rationalized the motions,
of the planets,
published the results,
in the Principia,
after decades of Bible Study.
in his day, the University of Cambridge,
was established to train young men,
for ordination.
He then began an intense study of the Bible
in preparation for ordination and graduation.
He discovered a non-trinitarian god
with body parts and passions in his studies.
In his day, this discovery was a capital offense,
leading to death and destruction in fire.
So, he suppressed his knowledge.
The king, not wanting to lose his valued mathematician,
gave him a dispensation to avoid ordination.
Was he then the last magician,
with his studies of Alchemy.
On his death, it was discovered
that two-thirds of his writings
were about religion and not natural philosophy.
This knowledge was suppressed for the next
two centuries.
These are the shadows,
on the walls of the cave,
I wish my fellow travelers understood.
Sunday, August 18, 2024
on atonement and transformation
Monday, July 15, 2024
Maggie's Dream
Sunday, July 14, 2024
in the eyes of a child
Sunday, June 30, 2024
On Ordination
Wednesday, June 26, 2024
On being unity, not a trinity
Wednesday, June 19, 2024
on the Virtue in Lumpy Dick
Sunday, May 5, 2024
The Addition
Such a strange feature,
this, for a tractor.
Newly installed it, he,
a few weeks ago.
It came not from the
factory,
such a thing.
Some came with air
conditioning,
and nice sound systems.
Four-wheeled jukebox, on wheels.
Why the need for such a
thing?
When purchased, decades
ago,
no one imagined such a
need.
He would farm and she,
would care for the
children.
When she left, the little ones remained.
The older ones, in
school would be,
thus, the littlest
one,
his constant companion,
then becomes.
Hence the need,
for an infant seat
Wednesday, April 3, 2024
on making poetry
Sunday, March 17, 2024
The son he was mourning
He was thinking about Lucifer,
this his child.
The son of the morning,
Or was he,
the son he was mourning.
How then to redeem Lucifer?
This then his child.
The son he was mourning.
He would, if a way could be found.
Redeem Lucifer.
How many times had he walked?
in the Heavens,
in the cool of the morning,
with Lucifer near his side.
He loved all of his creation,
but the children held a place, special
Next to, his heart.
It was Lucifer who caused,
this great loss.
Lucifer the author of his own,
damnation.
It was Lucifer who placed himself,
beyond redemption,
not God the Father,
of all creation.
How then to mourn, the loss?
This then day of Lucifer.
The son he was mourning.
Sunday, August 13, 2023
let there be no monument
Thursday, July 27, 2023
A Covenant Renewed
Monday, July 24, 2023
The Final Gift
Sunday, July 23, 2023
On misunderstandings
of a special woman,
at work.
Friday, July 21, 2023
She who's stands
Wednesday, July 19, 2023
God honored his heart
Sunday, July 16, 2023
On Racing Toward Catastrophe
Friday, July 14, 2023
gratitude accomplished
Tuesday, July 11, 2023
on resting this day
Monday, July 10, 2023
on his life's work
Saturday, July 8, 2023
more beautiful, then today
Friday, July 7, 2023
The case for the 8-track
Thursday, July 6, 2023
On the town triangle
Wednesday, July 5, 2023
Joseph Smith on forgiveness
Monday, July 3, 2023
Essay on a poem and a change of views
My birthday is coming up, I was born on July 6,1965. I was my mother's only child born in the summer and in the afternoon. The following day the nurse discovered that I had a clean diaper and that was a bad discovery. I was born without an anal opening. Without surgical intervention, I would not live another week. So, my aunt Anne Herzog and Uncle Deloye drove Dad and me down to the Primary Childrens Hospital in Salt Lake City to see a surgeon. The surgeon discovered that my body was complete I just required a small slit to make an opening in my anus so I could defecate. All of my experience since then has been on bonus time.
When I was a month old my parents were sealed, along with my
brother Carl, and I, in the Logan LDS Temple. For the previous year, my parents
had been participating in Project Temple in preparation for this day. They had
married young. It was a shotgun wedding. My mother was pregnant but she had lost that
first child. When my mother miscarried that first child both sets of
parents had urged them to wait until after graduation to marry. My parents would not hear of it so they both dropped
out of high school and a marriage ceremony was arranged. This led to a very
rocky start for their marriage.
My father never emotionally mature beyond about 14 years of
age. Both my dad and his father had an
undiagnosed form of high-functioning autism with a touch of hyperactivity.
These are things I never understand until I was in my late 40’s. For decades I
was deeply angry with my mother for the way she raised me. My mother had her
own emotional issues as well. As the
child of an alcoholic who had been sexually abused by a close male relative at
a young age, she had real problems with physical intimacy that were separate from
the sexual act. She also did not trust my dad around other women, when they
were separate, for a good reason.
The combination of these two factors left me strongly attracted
to my parents if emotionally at a distance. My mom and I were always in a dance,
one pulling in while the other pulled away.
We played this dance for decades until her death. It was near her death when I felt if I lost my
mother that I would lose half of my mothers going back to Mother Eve that I
felt the pull to repair this relationship with my mother. To try the dance once more hopefully, both of
us come into this dance for the final embrace.
I sat down and had a conversation where I told her how
deeply hurt and angry, I was for the way she raised me, but now as a parent who
had made his own mistake, with my children, I was beginning to see things from her
point of view. I then ask her about what would happen to my father after her
death. That is when my mother signed a will giving everything to Debra. I knew
that I and Debra could then plan for my father’s welfare after my mother’s death.
For the first couple of years after my mother’s death, I
sister Annette was in charge of Dad’s finances and she did a great job. Saving
enough of Dad’s money that she could pay to reroof the garage. It soon became too much for her when her Multiple
sclerosis (MS) became too severe for her to care for Dad. That is when I knew that it was now my turn. I and my wife were certain, that I did not
have the skills needed to manage his finances, but I pulled on my big boy pants
and did it anyway.
It was in managing my fathers’ finances that I began to
understand my mother’s world. My Dad was
much better at spending money than he was at earning it. I develop some online
tools, with the help of the Logan Medical Federal Credit Union that me to restrict
Dad’s spending habits. This I left sufficient means in his saving account to cover
his weekly pocket money while I paid the bills.
I also found he was paying extra for health insurance which was a bonus
and so I canceled it. I was able to move him to better health insurance with a
lower monthly cost and with better coverage.
One winter when the snow storms were at their worst my wife
ask me to stay with him and come home when the weather was better. That slowing
evolved over time into living with him full-time and his health declined. I would
then call her nightly or leave her a text message when she got off work. I began taking her for dinner dates on the
weekend, which I had never done as the children were growing up. In
a strange way, this only improved our personal relationship.
In the end, after I finished my Dad’s hospice care,I sold his house, divided
the inheritance, and moved home with my wife again.
This may seem like a strange introduction to a poem about
George III and a British King but it is important. Growing up I had one view of
George III taught in my history classes and now I have another view of his
participation in the American Revolution. My views on George III have evolved
as my understanding of my relationship with my parents has evolved.
George III (George William Frederick; 4 June
1738 – 29 January 1820) inherited the British throne from his father and
grandfather. Though he was a British king he was a Germain prince. George I (George Louis;
German: Georg Ludwig;
28 May 1660 – 11 June 1727) George I first had inherited the British throne
after the death of his second cousin Anne Queen of Great Britain.
As part of the Glorious Revolution of 1688, the parliament had
overthrown and displaced the nominally Catholic King James II, brother of
Charles II. They then selected William of
Orange as their next king. His wife was
the daughter of James II's first wife. Part
of the agreement is William could reign but not rule and in exchange, the
English would support his fight with the Spanish to free the Netherlands.
If George III could reign but not overrule his parliament.
If he had supported his American Colonist in opposition to his Parliament then
his sons and grand-sons could then become tyrants and not constitutional monarchs.
He was born a Germain prince.
He, his father, and grandfather,
had ruled Great Britain,
as English Monarchs,
and Germain Princes.
Part of the constitutional compromise,
in the English Revolution.
As a Constitutional Monarch,
he may reign, but not rule.
It was a representative government,
if not a democratic one,
a rare thing in the world,
of his day.
He stood, in a place,
between his English Subjects,
and the American Colonists.
He had been tutored and trained,
that as a Constitutional Monarch,
he. must not be a tyrant.
If in opposition to his parliament,
he sided with the American Colonists,
his son and grandsons,
could then become tyrants.
How then to solve, this disagreement,
between his subjects, and his parliment
was his quandary this day.
Thursday, June 29, 2023
"On the morning of his nativity"
Sunday, June 25, 2023
on being a Germain prince
On Momma and the Nanny
Where are Momma and Nanny today,
He "aks".
For 18 years they shared a bedroom,
then they shared a family.
How does one describe Momma,
and the Nanny.
There is pizza,
and roller skating,
Bear Lake and Donnatta Hot Springs.
Shared family loss,
at an early age.
The death of,
Nada, Ken, Leo, Fred, and David,
sister, sister's husband, father, brother, nephew.
Fertility, Infertility,
Nanny really wanted babies,
Momma feared the birth,
of too many;.
Family vacations,,
Daddy on one side of the bed,
Nanny on the other and Momma,
in the middle.
After the death of Nanny's husband,
on vacation together, in Fort Bridger,
the man accused Daddy,
of being a polygamist.
Country Music, dancing, baking bread,
laughter and tears.
Shared intimacy need not imply,
un-celibacy,.
Nanny never desired Momma's husband,
only her babies.
So a life they did share,
and the babies too.
Now together they share Eternity.
Momma, the Nanny,
and now Nanny's Babies.
Thursday, June 22, 2023
unhappily Celibate
Saturday, June 17, 2023
On the Coke bottle.
Sunday, June 11, 2023
On the restoration of the family
Friday, June 9, 2023
Nora, Howard, and the barn
Thursday, June 8, 2023
"Not While I'm Around"
Nothing's gonna harm you
No sir, not while I'm around"
Tuesday, June 6, 2023
Momma, Nanny, and the dishes
Wednesday, May 24, 2023
I Nephi
"Having been born of goodly parents",
"I will go and do the things", ...
In my youth,
I learned, of these scriptures.
Now I am reminded, that the thing Nephi did,
was to take the life of a drunk,
for the Torah, and A Book of Remembrance.
I have done hard things.
Pray for the redemption of a family,
deeply mired in sin and corruption.
Served a mission among people, who desired not,
what I had to share.
Find a woman to share my life,
who held a temple recommend,
and honored my parents.
Paid a handmaiden, twice,
to have an abortion, not.
So then, I could father a child.
Spend years visiting, a beloved one,
in a locked-down facility,
to remind him he was more,
than his crime.
Find a gardener to plant,
a crop to preserve life,
of the one I adore.
Spend years living with a man,
and visiting my wife,
when he had no use for me, till I was nine.
I can and have done hard things,
Nephi did hard things,
you too can do hard things.
This I know, you can.
1 Nephi 1:1
1 Nephi 3:7
The Byington Brothers Bar Fight
This is the story, my uncle told me,
as I grew into a man.
On Saturday night,
I could be found,
at his dinner table,
playing cards, or a game of Risk.
After the game was over,
deep into the night,
he would tell me, the family lies.
Not sure how much of the story, was true,
and how much of the story was a myth,
designed to lead me into, manhood.
The Byington brothers,
grew into manhood, in a one-room cabin,
In Winder Idaho, at the top of the West Cache Canel.
Growing up without a momma
can leave one cold and hard,
but also resilient and independent.
On Saturday night, the Byngton brothers could be found,
sitting at a bar, quarreling amongst themselves.
Perhaps it was The Bloody Bucket.
In those days, music was played,
on a Nicolodian, jukebox,
a song would be selected,
then a nickel was inserted.
If a fresh nickel was inserted, before the end of play,
a new song replaced the current one.
One lady tried continually, to listen to her song.
Another patron, thereafter inserted his nickel,
ending her music selection.
One of the brothers warned the patron,
this action did not please him,
and the next time it happened,
he would clean his clock.
The patron headed not, this warning,
as the Byington brothers were then,
quarreling, at the bar, amongst themselves.
So when the patron, failed to heed his warning,
the Byington brothers proceeded to clean his clock,
they then returned to the bar,
and continued quarreling amonst themselves.
So what was the point, of the story?
Family is family, and remains undivided,
to those outside the family, circle.
It is okay, to quarrel with your brother,
but we must stand united, to defend the family,
from the outside.
Sunday, May 21, 2023
on momma's lilac bushes
Saturday, May 20, 2023
On cleaning the graves
Why do they come?
Year, after year, after year,
they come.
These are graves, of people,
in life, they knew not, of ...
The deaths coming, years,
before their birth
They carry no memories,
of sickness, weddings, or funerals.
No memories of the babies.
They mourn then not, from memories, of youth.
Like salmon, returning to spawn,
they return yearly, to clean the graves
To reward the children, they will return,
year, after year, after year,
to Donnetta Hot Springs, to take a swim.
Donnetta was once owned by the family,
it is where they scalded pigs,
after the yearly slaughter.
They bring their memories,
of their grandmothers and grandfathers,
aunts, uncles, and cousins,
And their babies.
Year, after year, after year,
I bring my memories,
Of swimming, and picnics,
and meals being prepared,
and running with cousins,
and games of tackle football.
I go there to recover lost memories,
it is one of the rare places,
on Earth, I felt nurtured, by Momma.
So year, after year, after year,
I shall return, to relive those memories
as I return home, to create new memories,
for my, babies.
Thursday, May 18, 2023
Between the urine and the feces
the birth canal, being lodged between,
Sunday, May 7, 2023
Brutus speech
There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.”
Wednesday, May 3, 2023
on being a rose, in Grants Ward
Sunday, April 30, 2023
On being my son, almost
He was my son, then,
almost.
He was the first son,
of my heart,
of my life,
of my soul.
The first sibling was he, naught.
The first sibling had been given,
as a gift to another family.
I learned of his life,
long after the gift had been given.
He was offered as a gift,
to my wife.
Being single with no committed, prospect,
this gift had been declined.
Shortly after our marriage, I learned,
of personal infertility.
Then shortly after that, came the birth,
of the second son.
He would have been our gift,
but Grandpa loved him first.
To accept this gift,
would be to end,
the life of a man, I adored.
So I watched this son, from afar.
Seeking then, every chance,
to continue to bless his life,
I revered him, from afar.
In his youth, many troubles, he experienced.
Some troubles require the intervention of a judge,
for many years, we visited him, in a secure facility.
This facility offered him choice and growth.
With this change, he experienced new joy
and deepened his relationships with his siblings.
Many years have passed and think,
I still, of this son.
Even in his death, I see hope and joy.
Our daughter has named her son,
in honor of his memory.
I hope they meet again someday,
and my grandson sees the joy,
I feel in the memory,
of the first son, of my heart.
Wednesday, April 26, 2023
On Being Patricius
Patricius,
Fifth century, Romano-British missionary.
Not born a slave,
born a grandson of a Christian Bishop.
Born free and then enslaved,
captured by Irish raiders,
taken, to care for sheep.
Escaped, six years later, no longer,
a slave.
Returns again, to his beloved Ireland,
there to serve the remainder of his days.
With him, comes Christianity,
knowledge, and learning.
One generation, or two,
out of Paganism and human sacrifice.
He instills a love in them,
a love of literature, art, and learning,
then a desire to serve, all mankind.
They begin to capture and copy books,
as they arrive in Ireland,
and build vast libraries, from the skins,
of the sheep Patricus tended,
as a youth.
With the destruction of Western Roman Civilization,
and their libraries, the Irish Pagans, now Christian missionaries,
are then prepared to restore, this learning and knowledge,
to the world.
This, then, is a marvelous work,
it begins, among men
"Therefore, behold, I will proceed to do a marvelous work among this people, even a marvelous work and a wonder: for the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the understanding of their prudent men shall be hid." Isiah 29:14
on making a baby
Saturday, April 22, 2023
in his perfection
Sunday, April 2, 2023
she held him to her breast
Sunday, March 26, 2023
What then remains
What warmth do we leave,
to the others, this day?
Saturday, March 25, 2023
On his death
Wednesday, March 22, 2023
What then of the Angel in the Garden?
What use could an angel be to him?
Then here, in the Garden.
Remove not the pain, could he now.
Carry not the burden, could he then.
Strengthen the Savior?
Maybe.
Once in literature, another came,
to strengthen, a chosen one.
though in story, and myth,
yet a lesson to contrast,
still.
On a hero's journey,
Frodo had been sent,
to cast the ring into Mount Doom.
In the end, his strength failed him,
at his faithful side was Samwise Gamgee.
Carry not the burden could Samwise,
but carry Mr. Frodo then could he.
Some speculate that the Angel was Michael.
to remind him of his Eternal Parents,
faith and confidence in his ability,
to carry this load.
If it is Micheal,
then remember not that Michael,
became Adam, whose spouse,
had helped him choose the better path.
The two, the angel and the Christ,
completing one Eternal Round,
a circular path to then lead.
The second creations,
to return the boon,
on their Heroes' Journey.
Sunday, March 19, 2023
On Poetry and Rhetoric (Yeats)
We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry. Unlike the rhetoricians, who get a confident voice from remembering the crowd they have won or may win, we sing amid our uncertainty; and, smitten even in the presence of the most high beauty by the knowledge of our solitude, our rhythm shudders. I think, too, that no fine poet, no matter how disordered his life, has ever, even in his mere life, had pleasure for his end. Johnson and Dowson, friends of my youth, were dissipated men, the one a drunkard, the other a drunkard and mad about women, and yet they had the gravity of men who had found life out and were awakening from the dream; and both, one in life and art and one in art and less in life, had a continual
[Pg 30] preoccupation with religion. Nor has any poet I have read of or heard of or met with been a sentimentalist. The other self, the anti-self or the antithetical self, as one may choose to name it, comes but to those who are no longer deceived, whose passion is reality. The sentimentalists are practical men who believe in money, in position, in a marriage bell, and whose understanding of happiness is to be so busy whether at work or at play, that all is forgotten but the momentary aim. They find their pleasure in a cup that is filled from Lethe’s wharf, and for the awakening, for the vision, for the revelation of reality, tradition offers us a different word—ecstasy. An old artist wrote to me of his wanderings by the quays of New York, and how he found there a woman nursing a sick child, and drew her story from her. She spoke, too, of other children who had died: a long tragic[Pg 31] story. “I wanted to paint her,” he wrote, “if I denied myself any of the pain I could not believe in my own ecstasy.” We must not make a false faith by hiding from our thoughts the causes of doubt, for faith is the highest achievement of the human intellect, the only gift man can make to God, and therefore it must be offered in sincerity. Neither must we create, by hiding ugliness, a false beauty as our offering to the world. He only can create the greatest imaginable beauty who has endured all imaginable pangs, for only when we have seen and foreseen what we dread shall we be rewarded by that dazzling unforeseen wing-footed wanderer. We could not find him if he were not in some sense of our being and yet of our being but as water with fire, a noise with silence. He is of all things not impossible the most difficult, for that only which comes easily can[Pg 32] never be a portion of our being, “Soon got, soon gone,” as the proverb says. I shall find the dark grow luminous, the void fruitful when I understand I have nothing, that the ringers in the tower have appointed for the hymen of the soul a passing bell.Saturday, March 18, 2023
Both Sides Now
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
Looked at clouds that way
They rain and they snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
From up and down and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all
The dizzy dancing way that you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I've looked at love that way
And you leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away
From give and take and still somehow
It's love's illusions that I recall
I really don't know love
Really don't know love at all
To say, "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way
And they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed
Well something's lost, but something's gained
In living every day
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all
I really don't know life
I really don't know life at all
Monday, March 6, 2023
DREAMS
Martha
Cleaning House After the last child leftAnd blows the dust from the dreamShe grew up with.Is four-eight too oldTo enroll in veterinarian school?And Georgia
Down the streetHome from board meetingWith a pile of papers Wryly smilesAs she pulls from the closetThe oak cradleShe had intended for somethingOther than overflowFor her most important filesCarol Lynn Pearson(Woman I Have Know & Been (1992)
Martha
And Georgia
Sunday, February 5, 2023
on his sterility
Sunday, January 15, 2023
Tychbornes Elegie
Tychbornes Elegie, written with his owne hand in the Tower before his execution
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of paine,
My Crop of corne is but a field of tares,
And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine.
The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
My fruite is falne, & yet my leaves are greene:
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seene.
My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
I sought my death, and found it in my wombe,
I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade:
I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe,
And now I die, and now I was but made.
My glasse is full, and now my glasse is runne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
Thy prime of youth is frozen with thy faults,
Thy feast of joy is finisht with thy fall:
Thy crop of corne is tares availing naughts,
Thy good God knowes, thy hope, thy hap and all.
Short were thy daies, and shadowed was thy sun,
T'obscure thy light unluckelie begun.
Time trieth trueth, & trueth hath treason tript,
Thy faith bare fruit as thou hadst faithless beene:
Thy ill spent youth thine after yeares hath nipt,
And God that saw thee hath preserved our Queen,
Her thred still holds, thine perisht though unspun,
And she shall live when traitors lives are done.
Thou soughtest thy death, and found it in desert,
Thou look'dst for life, yet lewdlie forc'd it fade:
Thou trodst the earth, and now in earth thou art,
As men may wish thou never hadst beene made.
Thy glorie and thy glasse are timeles runne,
And this, O Tychborne, hath thy treason done.