Not one of my better missives or even near to good. But try to enjoy. All CONSTRUCTIVE criticism welcome.
August comes from the Latin word augustus, meaning “consecrated” or “venerable,” which in turn is related to the Latin augur, meaning “consecrated by augury” or “auspicious.” In 8 B.C. the Roman Senate honored Augustus Caesar, the first Roman emperor, by changing the name of their month Sextilis to Augustus
August by nature, he strode the palace floors.
Revered by all, feared by most, yet sad beyond his strength.
Ruler of the known world but not of his own.
Troubled and tormented by fear and guilt.
About which he knew not either why or how.
His problematic mind anathematic to his own.
In dreams he saw only what he dreaded.
The gods of Rome were powerless to abate.
What power can come from him who is not there.
Sacrifices to your empty deities bring no healing.
Waxing moons supposedly bring spiritual hope,
Waning again like unrequited love on a distant shore,
White sand running through your fingers like the days of life.
No hope was found, no pity lost on mortal man.
Jupiter, supreme ruler of the gods, Juno his queen,
“Surely I am a god, does not Rome worship me?”
“Woe to you Minerva and Neptune, fake deities of Rome”
“Venus and Mars, you are planets not gods like me.”
“Apollo, son of Jupiter, loose your arrow and slay your father,
Thought he does not exist, but then, nor you.”
And so he curses every useless god he knows in hope of finding peace.
But no, each non-existent deity curses him back in incredulity.
How dare he say we don’t endure, just because we ……………..
Picture is Connecticut 10th grader Sarah Harrison’s Doodle, “A Peaceful Future”
Who is my neighbour, do they live next door? What if they’re ugly, or drunk or a whore? What if they really are just not like us? Quiet, refined, not making a fuss.
Who is my neighbour? Not just in my street, Surely my neighbour is all whom I meet. They’re black, they are white, they are straight, they are gay They’re the every day folk, that I meet every day.
I shall not judge them and they’ll not judge me. They’re my brothers, my sisters, and all should be free. My neighbours, they cover the face of this earth, So I’ll love and respect them for all they are worth.
But one day there will be a reckoning for all, Black, white and ugly, the big and the small. On that day, a sorting, the wheat from the chaff, And then the down trodden will have the last laugh. The wheat go to heaven, the chaff down to hell, You’d best love your neighbour or you’ll go down as well.
Like a pebble dropped into a pond my thoughts go out to all around. My thoughts are quite, quite silent, dispersing ripples with no sound.
Two stones hit the water now. double circles undulating round. your thoughts mixed with mine but still they do not make a sound.
But then you speak. I hear your voice. My heart it fills with great rejoice. The circles rush, like waters falling, because I hear that you are calling.
And then you sing so sweet a melody And then I feel, like some epiphany. Your song of love that brings me to my knee And then I ask, if will you marry me?
You answer, yes. My joy complete. I stand again on unsure feet. But we both know, it cannot be. For I am four, and you are three.
I’ll ask again in twenty years For now, just wipe away our tears. And we just hope that it will be, That we may live in harmony.
Joseph R. Mason 
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