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 ……………..
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.
This is not one of my poems, I have reblogged this because it is so beautiful. Please read slowly and aloud listening to each phrase, it may move you to tears, or it may not. Look up the poet and follow her work. She’s has some really fantastic pieces.
Ever thought? How sin caused by pleasure, Can cause so much pain after. And that pain my mind could not contain And my heart bled with loss It’s because my king added to it Because he left me.. With no sun and without a son I had no love, no consolation
So I discovered another pen Bleeding with ink, not indelible one this time And a paper to bleed on I adopted poetry as my daughter She was free, yet came at a cost So cheap, yet carrying a value unmatched And here we are, talking to you, sharing us. We hope you hold on, as we sail with you On this journey that never ends