Joshua Roberts

Born to destroy the bablyon system
with our very hearts and minds
receptacles of timeless wisdom
coming in all sorts and kinds
children of a newborn god
clad in the vine and unshod
who, though seeming to us odd,
without looking, lost-ones Finds

forever and a day they sought
to live beyond the measured year
and every one with pain has bought
a sentence to their death in fear
children underneath their covers
cowards, anti-nature lovers:
like a loser who discovers
as hes dying what is dear.

Fourteen thousand and eleven
Years of monkeys dancing gaily,
Finally the bread we leaven
Turning on our masters daily:
Become a human calendar,
Real heroes Create festivals -
Don’t even think of calling her,
The complex actions that involves…
Into all futures without strain
Alike those remnants which remain
We march, to die and live again;
That very fate which time forestalls
That nameless voice forever calls.
Eternity, our one true love
The goddess that no one can prove,
Draws us ever thus above.

http://www.quantummechanist.com/JoshuaRoberts/2010/09/28/giving-thanks/

Just below threshold
Between the cracks
My army is sleeping
Upon broken backs
A tenuous dreaming
Built stories of old

All history is warfare
Or so I was told.

Inscribed to Bertrand Russell: We Will Bury You.

DISTRACT ME
with your flashing lights
your outdoor pavilions
and new apps for my iPhone

Rape my mind
with the myriad condolences
for my wasted life

“cold beer, warm pussy
and someplace to take a shit
with a roof over it”
Cheers.

I watched you throw it all away
I do not blame you
I understand how the universe actually works

But you let men like me be born
In this mess
The consequences were inevitable

Dance with the devil
and play his games
beat him at his own device

do not listen to the peasants revel
learn their names
and eat their lice

fear can never stop the brave
the soul which keeps on living
even all the damned you save
when first your heart is giving
let go, of all that repressed rage
redeem yourselves, and thus an age!

let all of the vampires in
with blood like ice, their measures thin
and teach lame vice again to sin,
if thats what it takes to win

so be it friend
the chasm mend
that stretches between man and beast

but faith, perpend,
you cannot spend
the price of entrance to this feast

value not that which you’ve heard
abandon all the lies interred
with the corpses of the word…

i think you’ll find the prize quite nice
a reward that no man can price
a level that’s engulfed in flames

Perhaps you take me for a fool
a master without sense for cruel
rules designed to make you drool -
some eugenics obsessed tool ?

a metaphysics-focused brain
a rambling dolt who’s gone insane
conspiring theories once again

you do not suffer from these lines
you do not see the dual designs

i am every stranger this world blames.

Savagery
inscribed to: swinburne

Who took away your will to fight,
To stand up for yourselves and win?
who wiped horizons from your mind
as if with a sponge at night,
the sky of promise thusly thinned?
who winnoed what was left of care
from out the eye of innocence?
who savaged youth which, unaware,
had spent the price of admittance.
into the bit(pit)* cast dying cents(sense) -
at last “the spirit” thus, relents:
a mistake with the Balls to dare…

Advent Pelops Libertine
clad in his mind
both grape and vine
without expecting road or sign
a river that doth seaward, wind.

Chuck, you magnificent bastard, i read your book!

*the smallest digital data unit or the pit (bothros) into which libations were thrown, it should be understood Both ways, as the poem hinges on this line and has two interpretations

commune with me
how i commune with Nature
and we shall share
a virtual Space
Program, running
unreal numbers
through a time which,
without place
is awakening
what slumbers
an infant tree
aware of its face
palming out into the future
a last ditch effort
to save this race

“i round the bases
make my shot
and win all races
you shall see
that i have got
a million faces
one for each
time i have died
while still alive
i cannot teach
you plebs the paces
you must reach
for them and strive
to pluck at the master’s wreath-”

i severed all the bonds of time
i snuck in while they all were sleeping
i stole their hearts just like a thief
and measured them in matchless rhyme
the lion’s share i am not keeping
but to the son of man bequeath

into the substance of all things
i have climbed and dug and tunneled
and to all heights on self-made wings
i soared,
a center to which all is funneled.
i laid my best upon the beaches
a merchant Giving pearls to swine.
cried out, the way a man beseeches
justice from absinthe or wine
i made my stand and proved that Nietzsche’s
noblest thoughts and secret musings
Swinburne’s rhyme of adept choosing
and everything else that’s worth losing
had nothing to do with these creatures
i let them run and fed them line
ignored

the hook set in time immemorial
when consciousness became arboreal
revenge of the plebs and the peons
the advent of hyperboreans -
and everything the elders promised,
our fathers did not die in vain
as nothing can be taken from this
Legion born to rise again