Nephele
Above us, many beings wheel and flow
Who we, the autochthonous, ellide
The sky’s an ocean in itself, you know;
The graying regions represent the tide.
Though people worship soulless azure face
Amalthea was never better nurse.
The Philistinic shame the nimbus-grace
Which they should make attempt to reimburse!
And yet protectrix never makes complaint
Her light scrubs all the shadow from the ground
It makes the darkness of the world grow faint
It sharpens all the details in its bound.
And though Apollo rages when she’s done,
My mistress’ eyes have never seen the Sun.
Nctosa
My mistress’ eyes have never seen the Sun.
My soul’s voivode wallfishes vortex-storm!
Her pneumic ichor wind invites to run
As wound-hectares it tears about her form.
My damsel screeches in that gaseous vein
I pray the Pleiades will ease her eye
My fealty I lend to ease her pain,
For pain is death to those who cannot die.
I strive each day to hasten her escape;
The fool king Zeus shall not retain her long.
I’d give the stars to gaze upon her shape,
To stand by soft-shelled hide and hear her song!
And feel her rightmost pincer trace my spine…
To know a godling loathe to most was mine.
Nagmalitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata
To know a godling loathe to most was mine
Is sweeter than a Muse’s tet-a-tet
If angelmakers call themselves divine
Then monster-mothers surely lounge the set
Our virtue tells us not to court the crass:
Malthus’ spirit stains the human soul
While contracieved potentials strew our past,
But kinder lapses make that darkened whole:
The melodies that play as cities fall,
The lustre in a luster’s knowing eye,
The comfort at rebellion in us all
And pleasure in a tricky-crafted lie.
We only think of evils close to home;
In all things is an art we have to roam.
Nehmetawy
In all things is an art we have to roam
Tetu’s Consort stands unifying, tall
She understands the ambages of foam
Within the flowing river’s gentle squall.
To Gogol doldrums, bring logology!
All truth’s ennestled in our wayward wake.
And she alone bears one chestomathy
From epiphanic insights we shall make.
All ignorance is Isfet, bind its jaws
And mind them as it starves and wastes away
A proper nourishment’s the only cause
Of mind’s recourse against that slow decay
Though unrighteous are borne to Ammit eat
The lucky ones find warm embrace to meet.
Nikkal-wa-Ib
The lucky ones find warm embrace to meet
When harvest-tide invites the orchard-dame
With pistil-stamen dance beneath her feet
And Ugaritic song to praise her name
Her trees and bushes line the elder groves
All in, as always, steady rank and file
Before the whimsy of the slithy toves
Her fruit was once what made the work worthwhile
Above all, sugar binds to human heart
For hedons linger such a fickle place
But there’s still pleasure at the hands that start
Celestial clockwork at a gentler pace.
The Manichaean cynic ought to know:
Above us many beings wheel and flow.