Joshua Roberts

http://www.quantummechanist.com/JoshuaRoberts/2011/05/21/in-excess-of-nine-thousand/

20k words a day
cast into the aether
oh muses gentle as ye may
conditions forged hereafter
if you could but clear the way
and legend for your seeker
all would come at once to light
men would see without their sight
at last the plebs trained for the fight
the dawning of the seether

i am sick, of playing games
and now i want to win
i have learned all of your names
the essence stirs within
a conflict unlike any other
where the blood shed by one’s brother
will instead the tyrants smother
choking them on their own sin

but ive said all this before
and youve stepped right through the door
together we will find that shore
where, our greatest works begin.

originally posted on SU sometime back in ~may

http://www.quantummechanist.com/JoshuaRoberts/2010/09/28/pieces-of-me/

out of an ancient cache
You pulled the mystery and longing
of a thousand generations.
standing still, with only a gesture,
you shook the world to its foundations -
and broke the backs of armies.

I am not going to say thank you
anymore, to my friends and comrades
the looks on their faces is good enough -
with all the strength in the world
I saw you make your stand.

thieves and liars in our midsts
immune the host has now become
impervious is he who sets
his hopes upon a future home
that one and all should realize
potential that may lie within
the individual i prize
sovereign, i canonize-
the clever rat gets in
-clear eyes realize real lies-
the maker knows his kin.

i run so fast i trip
and thru the timespace slip
dropping executables
and forging novel crucibles
the cpu design
from the vortex eye
pluck the nodal spline
(i did not even try)

the daimonon of socrates
was but the inside wall of these
images reflected from
the well of souls’ inner kingdom
trappings of the ancient ones
titans threw this stone aloft
i speak to those who threw all suns
and in my stead unmake the craft
i beckon ad infinitum

i watched you tear down everything
that i believed in from first days
and now i will your death knell sing
prodigal son, who thus betrays
the very ritual of birth
reclaiming what he felt was worth
the meaning of his life and earth -
no longer listening, he Says

the price of liberty is high
eternal vigilance is hairy
while alive one must yet die
several times, its customary -

leave something for the help you know?
give others what you could not grow
become the earth – like water, flow.

unlimited free energy
is more a plague and chain to thee
i will withhold the lock and key

until i deem you worthy.

-joshua.roberts.052511.0313CST

trying to make it to cold mountain
that basically sums up all my life
a thousand years i followed han shan
i left behind a world so rife
with the trappings of disdain
cries and gestures of refrain
i died and was born yet again
embracing each time open strife

eternally reborn for war
within one hour i know more
than all the banks could ever store
data enough to count the score

at any rate
i know that much
i seal your fate
without a touch

but you know
ill be right in my element
maybe for the first time in my entire life
the day the world ends

for the first time i will be Useful

literally drowning
in the midnight oil
i cant stop burning
inside, doubtful
ever more as each day passes
going blind – i may need glasses
and yet i passed, all of my classes
ending what i spoil

of course you know im not in school
no taste for academia
i ruin only what must spool
out, bleeding like anemia
the endless call to ceaseless war
fought for nothing – such disgrace
of warlike souls it makes a whore
well kill you just to save our face.
unfortunately though for you
we are not so stupid
as to fetters ourselves do
up, the way that you did
we wont quietly go down
into that goodnight you have planned
championed by humble clown
upon the field of mind we stand.

dont listen to the kooky conspiracy theorists
just take pills watch tv and then slit your wrists
cuz this is bablyon – two thousand eleven
and the rabble-con is better than ever
and this is just the beginning
of the season of diseases
you can pray to heaven or you can pray to von mises
its the same thing
we have been chasing bling
while the innocent suffer
we have killed one another
its a sick game
and i cant stop to play
i am not the same man
i was the other day

Questions From a Worker Who Reads by Bertolt Brecht

this is why im a quantum dualist – the devil is in the details – its the unknown integer that must be counted

or to borrow a phrase from an old friend of mine:

“there are many kinds of eyes, even the sphinx has eyes – thus there are many Truths and subsequently there is no truth.”

i have a different taste
a different taste altogether
and not a moment do i waste
when drawing brother to brother
i am the loop of mobius
a topic we cannot discuss
i am the thrust of Longinus
and yet there is another…

the unknown integer is calling
from beyond event horizons
silently the first snows falling
as our last coin now is Chiron’s
i pay homage to unknowns
that muses hide beneath their gowns
children born to shatter thrones
who thrive in all environs

oh mystery of mysteries
that scattered life into all seas
what offer will your rage appease?
how can i save the likes of these
lost names and forgotten words
unsung rhymes and tones unheard
which took their flight like countless birds
the task itself is most absurd

how could one man perform the count
and number that which has no name
what could i say upon the mount
the day i won the game

evil is the banquet
unknown and unprepared
my stomach wont get upset
the nutriment is shared
ill eat their bones
my belly stones
will grind these drones
and see the true are spared.

My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.