In Praise of Christ

Which man or hero does the goddess praise,
To whom, harsh Clio, do your trumpets rise?
No god, for empty soar the royal skies.
Upon whose mortal image shall we gaze?

Our poets clash each universe in words
A symphony of noise transports the heart.
Yet silent lies that harmonizing art,
Which animates the mountains and the birds.

The sun whose chariot anoints the sky,
The cloak of winter melting into spring,
The rosebuds and the roaring rivers sing,
The lyric Cosmos revels to reply.

Whom first to praise but Progress who appoints
The human will to govern all the earth,
Who, from the very moment of his birth,
Evolves to dignity his bones and joints.

Who grew from ash and dust a universe,
And stirred a soup, the birthing womb of life,
With Chance, his mistress, nay perhaps his wife,
He spins an epic poem, time the verse.

With them shall we sing Liberty and Love,
For any joy we know that it takes two,
The human will, unfettered, sets the true,
With rockets we have cowed the skies above.

I sing of Darwin and of Galilei,
Who loosed the bonds of magic on the mind,
And sought the laws of nature, it to bind.
The superstitious past has passed away.

Their minds released the prisoned will of man,
The flow of human greatness burst the dikes,
No flash of Jove the shrewd inventor strikes,
As ships ply oceans, wings the heavens span.

Now Washington and Jefferson I praise,
The Founder and the peaceful first reform,
Grand Lincoln and Frank Roosevelt adorn,
New Deals and unity from honest Abe.

And with Columbus shall I chant the deeds
Of Carnegie and Custer, brave in heart,
Rags rise to riches, valiant when the dart
Of natives scalped the passion that he bleeds.

We sing of Davy Crockett in the wood,
And Eisenhower, leader of the troops,
The unknown man whose wife’s head ever droops,
And William James, who preached pragmatic good.

Yet fame of pastors blossoms as a tree,
A star from Bethlehem proclaims good news,
A humble God, himself with man to fuse,
To loosen pride and evil’s tyranny.

Oh Son and Savior of all humankind,
Conceived of God, you shall receive the crown,
For on a cross you bled, without renown,
To heal the sick, give vision to the blind.

That man, when he will conquer all the earth
Which threatens Heaven, with a triumph just,
And batter down her hubris to the crust
With penitence and mercy, second birth,

The Cosmos with right order will he judge.
You shake its vast foundations to the core,
You banish those who challenge you in war,
Forgiving penitents, without a grudge.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-February 19, 2010

The Modern Exodus

The crack of whips, the mud and muck of shame,
The buffeting of hammers, stroke on stroke,
Fade out to see the whirling pillar-flame,
The blood of lambs as ransom from the yoke.
The galleys stink with famine, dirt and muck,
The negro bends with blisters on his back,
The shackles drop, he bleeds a stroke of luck,
As battle frees a nation from the rack.
Narcotics mute the screams of cheated whores,
As gunshots beat the children to despair,
Both Avarice and Lust have shut the doors,
Bold Justice shouts for blood and begs for prayer.
We sprinkle bloody lamb upon our door,
For Justice tarries now, but nevermore.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-November 21, 2009

The Middle Way

In modern flesh the ancient foe attacks,
Ensnaring all “minorities” in one,
Romanticism lurks behind our backs,
Dethroning Reason’s order and the Son.
Yet reason loves the world and not its Lord,
Adoring vicious passions with its heart,
Despising charity to make its hoard,
Surrendering the mind to money’s art.
As Aristotle, we must love the mean,
And mercy mixed with justice must prevail,
Awarding industry the golden green,
And giving the unfortunate their bail.
Thus shall we honor He who reigns above,
Establish Justice and forgive with Love.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-July 10, 2009

If men were angels…

Angelic humans love their fellow men,
And work to make them happy, safe and free,
They do not ask for money in return,
But for the joy and honor so to be.
The perfect magistrate is fully just,
And treats each citizen with love and care,
He requisitions merely what he must,
And serves the people for a tiny fare.
Yet men are not angelic so to love,
But target fame and fortune for the self,
And rulers lack the wisdom from above,
To value justice over pow’r and wealth.
While love may be more grand than liberty,
A power unrestrained is tyranny.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-July 9, 2009

XVI Prima Proposita Mea

(My First Purposes)
I wish to cure the ills that are our own,
The ever-hidden evils of our time,
They are injustice, which is never shown,
And emptiness, whose remedy is rhyme.
Leviathan, to seize through every means
The hard-earned funds which keep all men alive!
You do deserve some praise, or so it seems,
But not control to rule our very lives!
The void, our even more disastrous foe,
You steal from all the purpose of their lives!
If life is to be happy and gain dough,
Its nature is too shallow to survive!
Much poetry and law I wish to write
To call the sun, and end this evil night!
-Vir Cogitans Americanus
Scribit Dies XI Octobribus, Anno Domini MMVII

X Temperantia

(Temperance/ Moderation)
The world has never been a perfect place,
At least we can't remember if it was.
Yet listen, ye reformers, in your haste-
You err too much in fighting what it does.
No virtue on its own can be enought-
The courage without principle is dead;
A wisdom lost for action is but fluff,
And careless kindness ever weighs as lead.
Ye mustn't pick but one to be your guide-
To follow one is folly in the least,
It would be worse than if you hadn't tried,
Obsession makes a demon of the priest.
To right the wrongs that everyone can see,
The virtues must be mixed in harmony.
-Vir Cogitans Americanus
Scribit Dies XXVIII Iunii, Anno Domini MMVII