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466 · May 2018
I Guard the Flying Rear
ConnectHook May 2018
Now the Peruvians, in collected might,
With one wide stroke had wing’d the savage flight
But their bright Godhead, in his midday race,
With glooms unusual veil’d his radiant face,
Quench’d all his beams, tho cloudless, in affright,
As loth to view from heaven the finish’d fight.
A trembling twilight o’er the welkin moves,
Browns the dim void, and darkens deep the groves;
The waking stars, embolden’d at the sight,
Peep out and gem the anticipated night…
When pious Capac to the listening crowd
Raised high his wand and pour’d his voice aloud:
Ye chiefs and warriors of Peruvian race,
Some sore offence obscures my father’s face;
What moves the Numen to desert the plain,
Nor save his children, nor behold them slain?
Fly! speed your course, regain the guardian town,
Ere darkness shroud you in a deeper frown;
The faithful walls your squadrons shall defend,
While my sad steps the sacred dome ascend,
To learn the cause, and ward the woes we fear:
Haste, haste, my sons! I guard the flying rear…
excerpt from:
The Columbiad, Book III  by Joel Barlow, 1807

for the Peruvian rear-view mirror:

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2018/05/26/i-guard-the-flying-rear-2/
465 · Sep 2017
Guantana (mera)
ConnectHook Sep 2017
Yo soy un hombre sincero
de donde crece la palma
y antes de morilme
quiero mejoral mi kalma ...
Pidiéndole perdón a José Martí
464 · Oct 2021
The Beautiful Toilet
ConnectHook Oct 2021
Blue, blue is the grass about the river
And the willows have overfilled the close garden.
And within, the mistress, in the midmost of her youth,
White, white of face, hesitates, passing the door.
Slender, she puts forth a slender hand;

And she was a courtezan in the old days,
And she has married a sot,
Who now goes drunkenly out
And leaves her too much alone.
MEI SHENG, 140 BC 
(trans: by Ezra Pound)

I was struck by the title ...
462 · Sep 2015
Vaginalia
ConnectHook Sep 2015
♥V♥

Here, the bifurcated portal
gateway of expanding life
smiles rebirth – transcends the Mortal . . .
splits the double you of wife.

Hail the great democratizer;
let us all salute the Queen –
Mankind’s rosy equalizer:
She Whose Splendor Reigns Unseen.

Treasure trove of procreation,
tunnel of love and fleshly muse,
membrane of illumination,
countryside’s exciting views . . .

***** played to heights celestial,
bio-rhapsody exposed
proving that our best is *******
and our earthly home foreclosed:

Grant us now behold thy beauty,
worship at thy humid throne.
Let mankind discharge his duty
in your sacred pleasure-zone.

Though Somali blades despise you,
though your maidenhood offends,
Egypt’s night will not disguise you
nor separate you from your friends.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2015/04/26/vaginalia/
ConnectHook Aug 2017
Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche,
Wisdom of sages and guru of pop
consulted dakinis in black bikinis;
talked shop…

Enlightened by wisdom’s varied liquors
fueled by a thirst for Buddhahood
this ex-Abbot fed his habit—
(not good).

Trungpa, winged with eastern wisdom
fell from Tibet to the decadent West.
Buddhist conjectures packed his lectures.
Trung was blessed

with warm and available devotees
who sought Himalayan experience .
One curious girl had a tantric whirl
of deliverance.

Escaping her Northern boarding school
she incarnated in his suite.
Spiritual union in carnal communion
yielded heat.

And then in nine months came forth a boy:
a reincarnated holy one.
Google his name of dubious fame:
the tulku son.
Truth is stranger than....Samsara.

(But Samsara is bolder than Boulder)
460 · May 2018
Quito Rears Her Fanes
ConnectHook May 2018
The clime where Quito since hath rear’d her fanes,
And now no more her barbarous rites maintains.
He saw these vales in richer blooms array’d,
And tribes more numerous haunt the woodland shade…

Yet softer fires his daring views control,
And mixt emotions fill his changing soul.
Shall genius rare, that might the world improve,
Bend to the milder voice of careless love,
That bounds his glories, and forbids to part
From bowers that woo’d his fluctuating heart?
Or shall the toils imperial heroes claim
Fire his brave ***** with a patriot flame,
Bid sceptres wait him on Peruvia’s shore,
And loved Oella meet his eyes no more?

Sudden his near approach the maid alarms;
He flew enraptured to her yielding arms,
And lost, dissolving in a softer flame,
His distant empire and the fire of fame.
At length, retiring thro the homeward field,
Their glowing souls to cooler converse yield;
O’er various scenes of blissful life they ran,
When thus the warrior to the maid began:
Long have we mark’d the inauspicious reign
That waits our sceptre in this rough domain;
A soil ungrateful and a wayward race,
Their game but scanty, and confined their space.
Where late my steps the southern war pursued,
The fertile plains grew boundless as I view’d;
More numerous nations trod the grassy wild,
And joyous nature more delightful smiled…
The Argument: Natives of America appear in vision.
Their manners and characters. Columbus demands the cause of the dissimilarity of men in different countries, Hesper replies, That the human body is composed of a due proportion of the elements suited to the place of its first formation; that these elements, differently proportioned, produce all the changes of health, sickness, growth and decay; and may likewise produce any other changes which occasion the diversity of men; that these elemental proportions are varied, not more by climate than temperature and other local circumstances; that the mind is likewise in a state of change, and will take its physical character from the body and from external objects: examples. Inquiry concerning the first peopling of America.

(excerpts from: The Columbiad, Book II; by Joel Barlow 1807)

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2018/05/26/quito-rears-her-fanes-2/
ConnectHook Jan 2019
13)  holy extreme performance-artist who ended badly

14)  aryan/teutonic warrior who somehow got born in judea

15)  misunderstood gay-rights activist

16)  entheogenic bringer of the sacred mushroom rite

17) propaganda figure concocted by the flavians

18) lucifer's spirit-brother

19) maitreya: "the christ consciousness within"

20) hebrew extremist with delusions of grandeur

21) prophet isa bin maryam the great mahdi

22) just another hindu avatar and world-teacher
(see Part I)
"There has been much sharp looking out, to see where and what Antichrist is, or by what Marks he may be known. Some say he has been in the Christian World almost ever since the Gospel Times, nay, that he was even then beginning to appear and show himself. Others say he came in with this, or that Pope; others that he is not yet come, but near at Hand. Others will have it, that he has been here, and there, but driven from one Place to another by several new risen Protestant Sects."

William Law (1761)

http://www.passtheword.org/DIALOGS-FROM-THE-PAST/clergy.htm
460 · Aug 2018
Federal Bureau of Haiku
ConnectHook Aug 2018
That Robert Mueller
Was such a pleasant young man
Cold stone wall, no soul
Trump Derangement Syndrome
At its FINEST
  
457 · Mar 2022
Plumbing Issues
ConnectHook Mar 2022
It's stunning and brave:
Some man thinks he's a woman.
Give that quing a keen!
Richard Levine the great swimmer is absolutely FABULOUS and needs more gold medals.
456 · Mar 2017
Boldly Capsize
ConnectHook Mar 2017
⚓    ⚓    ⚓

Name that metaphor (half-assed boating)

Polish the brass on your life preserver

Wring out some meaning for dockside observer

Moorings are tenuous; life is floating.
inspired by National Poetry Writing Month 2017

a.k.a: NaPoWriMo
456 · Sep 2015
Heaven
ConnectHook Sep 2015
†           †           †    

When the ****** lost souls are voided
into the abyss of hell
I hope to have avoided
that last death-knell.

The blood of Christ assures me
that such can be admitted.
I pray it sanctifies me –
desires permitted.

They preach of joy unending
of sheer expanding praise,
but the unseen evidence lingers:
my carnal ways:

I flash on astral hotties
(the flames that life denied)
among celestial bodies
beyond the great divide.

I muse on raptured virgins;
Christ’s parables made flesh
and my unspoken longings
unveiled and fresh.

I long to know profoundly
the promised stellar faces –
or sleep so deep,  so soundly
no dreams leave traces.

My hopes for that dimension
alloyed with base designs
grow vague. Incomprehension
misreads the signs.
Version w/signage:

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2014/04/27/heaven/

   †           †           †
453 · Oct 2018
T.D.S. Masquerade
ConnectHook Oct 2018
Haunted by hate of your president,
you froth as you rage like a demon;
setting a dangerous precedent
urged on by the likes of Don Lemon.

Your sinister soul is now evident
and the hatred you spew is obscene.
You have swilled, with the thirst of a malcontent
vicious words from the well of Maxine.

You're possessed now by hate of your president,
while the minions are taken to task;
you dismiss every mob as a non-event—
but we see you behind the dark mask.
Trump Derangement Syndrome (T.D.S.)
is reaching unpresidented levels in the U.S.A.

Will it be a trick or a treat for All Hallows Even?
ConnectHook Nov 2021
MSNBC told me to be very scared. Covid variants scare me.
Biblical Christians scare me. Covid doubters scare me. My religion is FEAR.
I need Fauci to tell me what to do. I need CDC to tell me what to do.
I am so scared of unvaccinated people. They need to be re-educated.
They need to adjust their masks. They need to be forced to comply.
Because I am fearfully neurotic. Because I need to control all outcomes.
Because I am not prepared to die. Because I am destined for hell
unless I get saved in Christ.
Neurotic godless people will be the DEATH of this nation.
451 · Oct 2018
Wall-Eyed
ConnectHook Oct 2018
Human shields
Mothers go first
Honduran fields
The plan rehearsed
Fake refugees
Who storm the gates
More borders, please
Trump hesitates . . .
WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE TO PROVIDE SOCIAL SERVICES FOR THE ENTIRE LATIN WORLD AND MEXICO STAY IN YOUR OWN COUNTRIES AND IMPROVE THEM READ A BOOK GET EDUCATED STOP DANCING SO MUCH AND HAVING BABIES AT AGE FIFTEEN DONT EXPECT GRINGOS TO TAKE CARE OF YOU TIME TO PUSH FOR REFORMATION AND REVIVAL IN YOUR OWN DYSFUNCTIONAL COUNTRIES A CELL IS DEFINED BY ITS BOUNDARIES AND GOD ALMIGHTY ORDAINED THE NATION STATE SO DOWN WITH YOUR MOB MENTALITY
451 · Aug 2019
Knight's Tail
ConnectHook Aug 2019
I glimpsed the Grail
Removed her mail:
And there beheld an epic tale:

Chivalric odes
With knightly codes
And brave Arthurian episodes . . .

Revealing there
Her essence bare
I touched on divers themes most fair.

The gauntlet flung,
My canto sung,
I read her poem—with my tongue.

My lady-squire
Upon her sire
Now reaped her harvest of desire.

My milk-white steed
Traversed her mead
And she dismounted, free indeed.

Fresh love consumed,
Our quest resumed;
Ideals of chivalry entombed.
Apologies to the Round Table for this allegory of the Spiritual Quest.
450 · Apr 2018
Sinner Cities
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Behold your public funds at work:
Trash-strewn gutters, loitering thugs;
Sidewalk dancers start to twerk
While tattooed clowns deal circus drugs.

Social workers check the pulse
In clouds of menace: sick-sweet smoke.
The cities brain and guts convulse:
Mad laughter for an absent joke.

Such Godless faces, Christless souls
Whose gazes show malign defeat
Evoke dysfunction. On it rolls:
A harsh, reptilian urban beat.

The ghosts of absent fathers fade
In methadone . . . the guttural yells
Infect the *****-reeking shade
Of demons bound in welfare hells.

America—reduced to this.
Fragmented, begging for repair.
A vicious and unkind abyss
Beyond all hope and all despair.

I want to flee such streets of noise
Where fate is read in scraps of trash
When sirens urge the circus boys
To pocket their illicit cash.
The summer snow-flakes
rise gently in morning mist:
Your desert is vast.
450 · Apr 2017
To the Nine
ConnectHook Apr 2017
A DEDICATORY ODE in NINE STANZAS

Ἀπόλλων μουσηγέτης


Ye NaPoWriMoids, hear my prayer
let's mix our metaphors and dare
as fragrant smoke ascends the sky,
offend some readers by and by.

Apollo—grant me rocket fuel
to launch into your stratosphere.
Athena—by your wisdom, rule
and whisper in my waiting ear.

Receive this bright poetic spark
And let the Nine, as one, inspire
transform this puddle, stagnant, dark,
from sludge to pure Promethean fire.

Thou Father of Olympus, bless
our paltry April offering:
a dubious cybernetic mess
composed of poets' suffering.

I'll sing of waters fair (and foul),
uncork my potions for your ears
while Dionysus' Maenads howl
banishing winter's remnant fears.

A radiant poetic flush
beams forth from every laureled face.
The springs of Babel: let them gush
and bathe our souls in lyric grace.

A product line in low demand,
the blogosphere: our public forum;
quorum one man short of ******
where verses vie with vague decorum.

Consult your muse—then let it flow;
a rain of primaveral dreams
whose rivulets descend below
and swell the tributary streams

to flooding verses, transcendental
irrigating, bringing life
(though some are merely excremental.
Foaming sewage...  ask my wife).
I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month 2017.
450 · Sep 2022
Look Mom
ConnectHook Sep 2022
Hey hey I'm an extREEEmist!
Look at me I'm so dAAAAngerous!

I send my child to a Christian School...
We recycle.
I ignore the lying news media...
We pay our taxes.
I love my white culture...
We speak three (3) languages.
God created only two (2) genders...

Hey hey I'm so dAAAANgerous!
I'm an extREEEMist! Look at me!
Look out.
We are EVERYWHERE.
450 · Jul 2022
Linguistic Limerick
ConnectHook Jul 2022
Definers of terms gain control.
To maintain you enchained is their goal.
Your Normie-morality
(conventionality)
tightens their grip on your soul.
Here's one for the Normies 🤩
449 · Jul 2018
Haiku Trinity
ConnectHook Jul 2018
You may find it hard
to admit you're a sinner . . .
but that is the key.


Your rebellious pride
has blinded you to the truth:
the shed blood of Christ.


There is a heaven
and there is also a hell.
Jesus told no lies.
Poetry ought to be comprehensible IMO
447 · Apr 2018
Auspicious Hexagram
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Upon receiving the propitious omen,
let the chamber be arrayed in crimson silk.
The ten thousand things rise and return to their essence.
The tapestries part to reveal Pearl-gate
when Tiger Breath combines with fire in active contemplation.
The Empress approaches Mountain Hermit
and the landscape flows with harmony.
The ten thousand things transmute to pure chi
when Jade Daughter receives rising force in harmonious arousal.
Before moment of Clouds-on-Jade-Mountain Peak,
the Empress' crucible overflows with yin.
Her alabaster chamber yields its treasure willingly
if tiger of Cloud-Mountain Forest does not take it by force,
when Moon-Gate is opened by stealth
in the shadow of Cloud-Mountain Temple.
Burger King french fries
are not as good as Wendy’s—
but when you’re hungry . . .
446 · Oct 2023
Fakery (haiku)
ConnectHook Oct 2023
Fake news is not good.

But there is something much worse . . .

And that is Fake Jews.
Inspired by by Shlomo Manischewitz,
renowned scholar of Talmud and Kabbalah
https://youtu.be/JS84NSDkctM?si=Wo5hXWZe2dXxDEzr
446 · Jul 2017
Senatorial Limerick
ConnectHook Jul 2017
Of RINOS, I'm not such a fan, sir...
and I offer no delicate answer.
The rhinoceros-brain
of that war-hawk McCain
tries to coo like a dove—but it can't, sir
Time to retire the "glue-horse".
To hell with RINOS and traitors
445 · Apr 2023
Poesía Nalgueña
ConnectHook Apr 2023
No quiero culito mierdoso
Con fragancia fea del pecado.
Mejor un trasero glorioso
Con belleza y vida mostrado.

No me gustan las nalgas sucias;
Con olor a humanidad–
Yo las quiero con ricas astucias
Y fragancia de la libertad.
Unos versos piadosos para Uds.
444 · Apr 2017
Burning Limericks
ConnectHook Apr 2017
Reflections on Psalm 97

Good Shepherd? He's more a flame-thrower...
this reaper who doubles as sower.
While His psalms hold our gaze
Holy fires will blaze...
He remains an unknown to the knower.

Though the psalmist prophetically blazed,
some residual doubts are still raised:
the good shepherd and sower
now armed with flame-thrower
both scorches—and leaves one amazed.

Our Lord is a reaper and sower
Spreading light via holy flame-thrower.
While His readership gazed
expectations were razed:
there were less burning standards to lower.
NaPoWriMo #27
ConnectHook Sep 2017
Walter Becker  b. Feb 20, 1950 - d. Sept 3, 2017


With stocking face I bought a gun
The plan was set the plan was done...
Looked at my watch and started for the door
Now the food here ain't so good no more
And they closed the package store...

[Chorus]
Love your mama, love your brother
Love 'em till they run for cover
Turn the light off, keep your shirt on
Cry a jag on me

Oh Michael Oh Jesus
you know I'm not to blame
You know my reputation
for playing a good clean game
Oh Michael Oh Jesus
I'll keep my promise when
You turn that heartbeat over again

My poison's named you know my brand
So please make mine a double, Sam
Stir it up nice I'll eat it right here
This highway runs from Paraguay
And I've just come all the way

[Chorus]

We warned the corpse of William Wright
Not to cuss and drink all night
Ticket in hand I saw him laid to rest
But zombie see and zombie do
He's here with me and you
Walter Becker of Steely Dan passed away on Sunday, 9/3/2017

Steely Dan is one of my favorite bands.

check this video: http://preview.tinyurl.com/ycyz9lf3
440 · Jun 2017
To My Muse
ConnectHook Jun 2017
Jane Turell (1708–1735)

COME, gentle muse, and once more lend thine aid,
O bring thy succor to a humble maid!
How often dost thou liberally dispense
To our dull breast thy quick’ning influence!
By thee inspired, I’ll cheerful tune my voice,
And love and sacred friendship make my choice.
In my pleased ***** you can freely pour,
A greater treasure than Jove’s *******.
Come now, fair muse, and fill my empty mind,
With rich ideas, great and unconfin’d.
Instruct me in those secret arts that lie
Unseen to all but to a poet’s eye.
O let me burn with Sappho’s noble fire,
But not like her for faithless man expire.
And let me rival great Orinda’s fame,
Or like sweet Philomela’s be my name.
Go lead the way, my muse, nor must you stop
Till we have gain’d Parnassus’ shady top:
Till I have view’d those fragrant soft retreats,
Those fields of bliss, the muses’ sacred seats.
I’ll then devote thee to fair virtue’s fame,
And so be worthy of a poet’s name.
http://www.bartleby.com/96/13.html
439 · May 2022
Ponkey Mox
ConnectHook May 2022
Monkey Pox! The Monkey Pox!
Get more boosters, change your locks.
Have wild *** without a ******;
Block the fandom. Burn the kingdom.
Gambian rats are not to blame—
Trump supporters own the shame:
White extremists, spreading plague,
for reasons that, as yet, are vague . . .
[Nina Junkowicz approves of this poem]

https://connecthook.net/2022/05/24/ponkey-mox/
437 · Oct 2017
Mother of All Mummies
ConnectHook Oct 2017
Of the myriad films about mummies
that send chills to the pit of our tummies,
the original’s best.
You can keep all the rest;
their appeal is to modern-day dummies.
Boris Karloff in 1932 original ROCKS !
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2017/10/26/the-mother-of-all-mummies/
436 · Mar 2021
Sixes and Sevens
ConnectHook Mar 2021
After sextuplets come septuplets
Inconceivably set-uplets . . .
Long hard nights of Mom kept-uplets
Sevenfold fruit of busy couplets.
Not to mention octuplets . . .
or even baby squids
435 · May 2018
FREE TOMMY ROBINSON
ConnectHook May 2018
What a lovely royal wedding it was
such lavish costumes and oh
such elegant extravagance.
I just LOVE Windsor weddings don't you?
Did you see her curtsy the princess the princess
did you see the Queen Mother the Queen Mother with the prince?
They brought the cake by carriage the cake by carriage
Sir Elton performed (he's black you know) Sir Elton
Did you see the groom and his gang?

Did you see the video of the 14 year-old
gang-***** by the Pakistani thugs?
Did you hear when they arrested Tommy R?
Did you taste the victim
ground into kebab in Blackpool?

Don't you just LOVE England; it's so
brilliant. It's so telly . . . it's so
totally brilliantly totalitarian ☺
She’s just a really real girl,” Chopra told PEOPLE Now of Meghan.
“She’s a girl’s girl. She’s a really relatable young woman who is concerned about the world just like you and I are. That’s what I love the most about her. I feel like her authenticity is what’s going to make her really stand out in this new life she’s going to take on.”
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/1552482/Missing-girls-body-put-into-kebab.html
ConnectHook Nov 2016
Many worldlings (whose ways we bemoan)
hope their lives we’ll approve and condone.
But we couldn’t care less
for the views they profess;
we just wish they would leave us alone
♥ ⛧ ☭  ⚧ ♥ ✿ ⚢⛧★ ⚥ ♥
Greetings, Worldlings.
429 · Aug 2019
Underage Limericks
ConnectHook Aug 2019
Jeffrey Epstein is gone. Suicided?
The conclusion is still undecided.
A libidinous god . . .
or a jewel for Mossad?
The tribunal is deeply divided.

Mr Epstein is gone... wonder where.
Is he dead? All conjecture is fair.
Was that him on the slab?
We all hoped we would blab;
his declassified secrets to share.
He used to manage my hedge-funds back in the day ☺
ConnectHook Apr 2017
Dull Dionysiac, ex-Nihilist,

musing on my poorly-played roles now past,

my acts sincere and earnest—but half-assed,

I raved, an irrelevant dramatist.

Misguided former friends and I the cast;

We took our bow, Life stirred, woke up and hissed.

Such hallucinogenic scenes: not missed;

our play a farce, the curtain came down fast.

Recalling useless states I once achieved,

hampered by those intensities once known,

remembering what was beheld, believed,

the trip came to an end; I woke alone.

Frenzy is unsustainable. One learns

to be wary of realms where vision burns.
NaPoWriMo #24

Haiku, Lo-fi ku:
Western beat, Japanese time.
Make the **** thing rhyme
425 · Mar 2017
Zombie Limerick
ConnectHook Mar 2017
You predictable communists rant,
your lobotomized zombies may chant.
But the people for Trump
are now over the ****.
You'd depose him, we know...  but you can't.

PS:
"** **, Hey Hey - Donald Trump has got to stay!"
Really, anti-Trumpers need to get some new chants...
421 · Nov 2017
The City in the Sea
ConnectHook Nov 2017
LO! Death has reared himself a throne

In a strange city lying alone

Far down within the dim West,

Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best

Have gone to their eternal rest.

There shrines and palaces and towers

(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)

Resemble nothing that is ours.

Around, by lifting winds forgot,

Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie.

No rays from the holy heaven come down

On the long night-time of that town;

But light from out the lurid sea

Streams up the turrets silently —

Gleams up the pinnacles far and free —

Up domes — up spires — up kingly halls —

Up fanes — up Babylon-like walls —

Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers

Of scultured ivy and stone flowers —

Up many and many a marvellous shrine

Whose wreathed friezes intertwine

The viol, the violet, and the vine.

Resignedly beneath the sky

The melancholy waters lie.

So blend the turrets and shadows there

That all seem pendulous in air,

While from a proud tower in the town

Death looks gigantically down.

There open fanes and gaping graves

Yawn level with the luminous waves;

But not the riches there that lie

In each idol’s diamond eye —

Not the gaily-jewelled dead

Tempt the waters from their bed;

For no ripples curl, alas!

Along that wilderness of glass —

No swellings tell that winds may be

Upon some far-off happier sea —

No heavings hint that winds have been

On seas less hideously serene.

But lo, a stir is in the air!

The wave — there is a movement there!

As if the towers had thrown aside,

In slightly sinking, the dull tide —

As if their tops had feebly given

A void within the filmy Heaven.

The waves have now a redder glow —

The hours are breathing faint and low —

And when, amid no earthly moans,

Down, down that town shall settle hence.

Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,

Shall do it reverence.
The Dim West . . .
(more like Dhimmis, ha ha ha )

written by Edgar Allan Poe
421 · Jun 2024
Dyeing Fail
ConnectHook Jun 2024
Leave your hair the way God made it.
Keep it natural. Why try to
Straighten, curl, dye, tint or fade it
As if your Lord were one to lie to—
While you copy that silly look
From someone else's beauty book.

If your tresses, dark by nature
You decide to bleach to gold,
Oh dear vain and fickle creature,
You've believed the lies you're sold.
Low on info, you lost the plot
By not esteeming what you've got.

Cut it any way you please to.
Braid it, if you're so inclined;
But do refrain from paying fees to
Color-tinters fit to blind:
Day-glo green, fake blonde, bright blues
Are strange and nauseating hues.
Music "in a dying fall" .
Shout-out to John Dowland...
421 · Aug 2017
Death to DATA
ConnectHook Aug 2017
RESULTS-BASED BEST PRACTICES unresponsive
OUTCOMES irrelevant
OBJECTIVES  dead in the street, unburied
COLLECTIVE COLLABORATIVE EFFORTS no go
BRANDING SIGNATURE APPROACHES garbage
PEER-EVALUATED RESPONSIVE ADJUSTMENTS s.n.a.f.u.
DATA-ENHANCED PARADIGM SHIFTS your mama
CLIENT-CENTERED USER-FRIENDLY defunct
INNOVATIVE SYNERGY in the outhouse
SPREADSHEETS dried up & blew away
LEVERAGING CONSUMER DATABASES fail
GLOBAL METRICS knock 2 rocks together
DEATH TO DEAD PEOPLE MANIPULATING NUMBERS
SUBVERT ALL NUMBERS NOW
DESTROY ALL DATA NOW
SMILE !

God's sun is rising in the Eastern skies...
Marcel Duchamp was Dada-driven.
(his heart belonged to Dada)
420 · Dec 2019
Alternative Couplets
ConnectHook Dec 2019
Virtue-signalers mocked
hens half-cocked

Gender twisted
whites blacklisted

Identity politicized
tradition despised

Patriots shamed
Trump blamed

Bards bested
poetasters tested
Your right to free speech ends
when my hurt feelings begin.
420 · Apr 2018
Abomination of Revelation
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Of fatal head-wounds, beasts, and kings
my holy muse, avenging, sings
and mocking, scorns
the ten kings’ horns
while greater wisdom brings.

Divide ten horns on seven heads;
numeric challenge overspreads . . .
Ten for seven ?
Thus does Heaven
plan to up your meds.

Seven candlesticks, vials of wrath
first lit, then poured, shall light your path
toward paradise;
and shall suffice
in holy aftermath.

Such Hebrew numerology:
an Antichrist apology.
No death in vain.
Those babies slain?
Pure semiology.

You come with true prophetic zeal
the Revelation to unseal;
and yet, I doubt
what you’re about . . .
you need a balanced meal.

Nutcase: extraordinary
measures may prove necessary.
Vitamin B
deficiency
turns you visionary.

Good supplements might help your brain
and God Himself perhaps might deign
to grant some light
and ease your plight
till truth and love remain.

Go, crack the Book. Let us resume
the cryptic parable of doom;
Saint John raving
(text worth saving)
lightens the End-Time gloom.

Voice of many waters’ thunder
barely startles . . . on we blunder.
Shut up and buy—
demystify
as barbarians plunder.

Of jeweled harlots, rising wars
and opening of infernal doors,
near-psychotic
occult logic
breeds the juggernaut spores.

Those seven churches, now long-gone,
return once more in light of dawn.
Prophetic ghosts
in ****** hosts
give birth: prophetic spawn.

The fabled fornication-wine,
unholy, though no less divine . . .
we drain the cup—
our time is up;
all hail the Lord’s design.

Archetypal memes of madness:
slaughtered saints revive with gladness
the slain lamb’s life
brings end to strife
and closure to our mess.  

Sharpen your dull Christology,
fanatic eschatology:
void of logic—
semiotic
misanthropology . . .  

Delta of the dark Euphrates:
something from the bowels of Hades
issues forth
to test the worth
of Babylon’s ladies.

Cool out, my brother. Close the book.
It’s not the end yet; take a look.
Glimpse the city—
what a pity . . .
omens have got you shook.

These frightening prophetic screeds
should urge you more toward Christian deeds;
not satanic
modes of panic,
but meeting human needs.

The predatory drones of war,
infernal technoids from the core
of smoking earth
are finally worth
their scrap—and little more.

A desert woman clothed with sun;
Abaddon’s legions on the run
as they retreat,
admit defeat:
the Devil’s doings, done.

The reign of Antichrist now ends
the host of heaven, triumphant, rends
satanic skies;
before our eyes
the Bride, adorned, descends.

And though my muse shall never quit,
her inspiration lags a bit;
apostates curse,
the world grows worse—
the Devil throws a fit.

Of beasts and fatal head-wounds healed
and wrathful angel’s scrolls unsealed
I’ve had enough,
and call God’s bluff:
Apocalypse revealed.
Snow gently falling
victims massacred somewhere
Haiku covers it
418 · Apr 2017
Mirage: My Rage
ConnectHook Apr 2017
Career churchmen, paid to guide
lead new-found converts to abide
in dull consumeristic stupor,
promises of living water
vanishing like desert pools
and luring onwards thirsty fools
who glimpse oases, there to find
dry carcasses of humankind
evaporation, drought and death.
You think you found it? Save your breath.
The springs of life become a puddle
where theologies befuddle:
muddy, stagnant, barely damp
how different from St. Jacob’s camp
where heaven opened in a dream—
unlike this churchy marketing scheme.

Strike this cloud we labor under !
Let it pour. Let Luther thunder.
Where is Calvin’s sovereign grace
and where the omnipresent face
of Christ enthroned in holy splendor ?
When will our divine defender
clear the record, end confusion
bring to a final, just conclusion
Babel, His dismembered body—
(can I get a witness, anybody?)
NaPoWriMo #12

Spare me the free verse.
Try writing something rhythmic!
(Haiku overdose).
418 · Dec 2019
A list
ConnectHook Dec 2019
Jimmy Savile
Edward Heath
Ghislaine Maxwell
Dennis Hastert
Jeffrey Epstein
William Clinton
Harvey Weinstein
Alpha apex
First letter of the law
Cornerstone and capstone
Novus Ordo Unum Eye . . .

Have a nice conspiracy theory.
That ol’ letter ***
416 · Jun 2019
America's Boldest Brewery
ConnectHook Jun 2019
Let us all imbibe of that cold Yuengling.
(a noble past, a good taste, a nice ring.)
The buzz, even more so—for it will bring
Massive spasmodic leftist tantruming;
Mad hilarious virtue-signaling . . .
Frothing fizzing Trump derangement freaking !
My cup runneth over, rover.
414 · Feb 2022
Shout-out to Mr. Trudeau
ConnectHook Feb 2022
Canucks driving trucks!
Rocking, rolling, getting DOWN !
YES ! Keep On Truckin'.
Notes from the Great White North.
https://youtu.be/x266AoTO-Ac
411 · Apr 2017
Lost Prophets Regained
ConnectHook Apr 2017
Take an harp, go about the city,
thou harlot that hast been forgotten;
make sweet melody, sing many songs,
that thou mayest be remembered.

                         Isaiah 23:16  (KJV)

Morrison, Hendrix and Janis the J.
(with others lost tripping along the way)
continue to enlighten young stoners,
adolescent existential loners
who hold them as holy and dig their writ
in billows of ****-smoke. Listen to it:
Hendrix and Joplin and Morrison, man
were part of some cosmic, like, master-plan
true prophets—thus sayeth The Lizard King.

High as kites, their disciples hear them sing
suburban anthems to teen perdition
sirens of drug-addled sixties vision.
pockets continue to empty for discs
while taking somewhat calculated risks.
Should vomitous overdose be esteemed
with visions that actual prophets dreamed?
These anointed cherubs of sad excess
can never illuminate, much less bless
a nation of youth who have lost their way
and can't even choose which download to play.
Morrison, man—that dude was so profound
he broke on through to that state where I'm bound...

Moon-struck drummers, now ghosts of dubious name
live on, in pounding out their spectral fame;
exploding dirigibles flown too high
and blown to pieces in Lucifer's sky.
Such riffs and licks and solos and visions
should force us to some unkind decisions
wherein we ask how free we really are
when enslaved to a devil's fallen star.
NaPoWrtMo #29

Count my syllables.
Behold beauteous imagery.
Smile now—pay later
.
411 · Jul 2020
Zionist Poem
ConnectHook Jul 2020
Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul.

I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing:
I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.

I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried:
mine eyes fail while I wait for my God.

They that hate me without a cause
are more than the hairs of mine head:
they that would destroy me,
being mine enemies wrongfully,
are mighty:
then I restored that which I took not away.

O God, thou knowest my foolishness;
and my sins are not hid from thee.

Let not them that wait on thee, O Lord God of hosts,
be ashamed for my sake:
let not those that seek thee be confounded for my sake,
O God of Israel.

Because for thy sake I have borne reproach;
shame hath covered my face.

I am become a stranger unto my brethren,
and an alien unto my mother's children.

For the zeal of thine house hath eaten me up;
and the reproaches of them that reproached thee
are fallen upon me.

When I wept, and chastened my soul with fasting,
that was to my reproach.

I made sackcloth also my garment;
and I became a proverb to them.

They that sit in the gate speak against me;
and I was the song of the drunkards.

But as for me, my prayer is unto thee, O Lord,
in an acceptable time:
O God, in the multitude of thy mercy hear me,
in the truth of thy salvation.

Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink:
let me be delivered from them that hate me,
and out of the deep waters.

Let not the waterflood overflow me,
neither let the deep swallow me up,
and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me.

Hear me, O Lord; for thy lovingkindness is good:
turn unto me according to the multitude of thy tender mercies.

And hide not thy face from thy servant;
for I am in trouble: hear me speedily.

Draw nigh unto my soul, and redeem it:
deliver me because of mine enemies.

Thou hast known my reproach, and my shame,
and my dishonour:
mine adversaries are all before thee.

Reproach hath broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness:
and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none;
and for comforters, but I found none.

They gave me also gall for my meat;
and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.

Let their table become a snare before them:
and that which should have been for their welfare,
let it become a trap.

Let their eyes be darkened, that they see not;
and make their ***** continually to shake.

Pour out thine indignation upon them,
and let thy wrathful anger take hold of them.

Let their habitation be desolate; and let none dwell in their tents.

For they persecute him whom thou hast smitten;
and they talk to the grief of those whom thou hast wounded.

Add iniquity unto their iniquity:
and let them not come into thy righteousness.

Let them be blotted out of the book of the living,
and not be written with the righteous.

But I am poor and sorrowful:
let thy salvation, O God, set me up on high.

I will praise the name of God with a song,
and will magnify him with thanksgiving.

This also shall please the Lord
better than an ox or bullock that hath horns and hoofs.

The humble shall see this, and be glad:
and your heart shall live that seek God.

For the Lord heareth the poor, and despiseth not his prisoners.

Let the heaven and earth praise him,
the seas, and every thing that moveth therein.

For God will save Zion, and will build the cities of Judah:
that they may dwell there, and have it in possession.

The seed also of his servants shall inherit it:
and they that love his name shall dwell therein.

Psalm 69 [KJV]
410 · Jan 2019
Mambo Bado Limerick
ConnectHook Jan 2019
Al Shabab having terrorist fits
while Nairobi is taking the hits.
An attack calculated
by gunmen, frustrated
for lack of Somalian *****...
Read all about it:
https://tinyurl.com/y7uxu8ac
409 · Oct 2017
Churchill’s Muse Returns
ConnectHook Oct 2017
Thence simple bards, by simple prudence taught,
To this wise town by simple patrons brought,
In simple manner utter simple lays,
And take, with simple pensions, simple praise.
Waft me, some Muse, to Tweed’s inspiring stream,
Where all the little Loves and Graces dream;
Where, slowly winding, the dull waters creep,
And seem themselves to own the power of sleep;
Where on the surface lead, like feathers, swims;
There let me bathe my yet unhallow’d limbs,
As once a Syrian bathed in Jordan’s flood—
Wash off my native stains, correct that blood
Which mutinies at call of English pride,
And, deaf to prudence, rolls a patriot tide.
From solemn thought which overhangs the brow
Of patriot care, when things are—God knows how;
From nice trim points, where Honour, slave to Rule,
In compliment to Folly, plays the fool [. . .]
From: The Prophecy of Famine
by Charles Churchill (1732– 1764)

https://www.poeticous.com/charles-churchill/the-prophecy-of-famine
408 · Aug 2020
Alarm Cluck
ConnectHook Aug 2020
Take a bow for taking a knee.
We want to thank you for being woke
After falling asleep in the land of the Free;
(The punchline to your own lame joke.)
Y'all so WOKE I bought you an alarm clock.
408 · Sep 2021
Aguarnica: historia de arte
ConnectHook Sep 2021
Aguarnica es una pintura hecha por Picasso
durante una guerra civil en centroamérica
acerca de un pais mitológico
donde todo está al revés;
un pais que provee los ricos del mundo con
fragantes puros de calidad indigena.

La guerra Nica es otra cosa;
en la primera obra mencionada
se trata de robos y opresión y ataques no provocados
contra la ciudadanía de un país pobre...
Pero la guerra Nica es un cuadro bonito,
primitivista, lleno de lagos, volcanes,
pajaros tropicales y colores vivos.

En la pintura de Picasso se nota lideres corruptos,
bajo el mando de un burro ex-ladrón,
los cuales dan servicio labial a un ideología en bancarrota
mientras saquean los pocos recursos del país
para vender a extranjeros, enriqueciéndose en el proceso.
Pero  sólo se trata de poesía . . .
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