To Cure the Soul…

The blazing flame of passion burns the heart,
The cold despair of mourning chills the soul,
The icy pang of guilt burns like a coal,
And none escapes the blaze of Cupid’s dart.
Yet brilliant color soothes the spirit’s art,
And music is a refuge for the soul,
It seems the senses dull and yet console,
To soothe the pain, force memories apart.
Yet soon the senses too begin to smart,
As cooling water chills you to the bone,
And warming fire burns the icy stone,
All suffering refuses to depart.
This circle’s very climax is a groan,
The answer is a cross before a throne.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 19, 2009

The Fire Pyramid

As flames ignite the driest wood and grass,
Enchanting it with nature’s passioned blaze,
So man must dry himself, throughout his days,
Preparing for a love that none surpass.
As heat may kindle embers in the grass,
Awakening the strength of passion’s rays,
So she must touch his eyes, a foreign gaze,
He burns not for himself, but for the lass.
As oxygen feeds fire, as a gas,
Providing an environment ablaze,
So fate or providence must weave its maze,
To fuse the souls like powder into glass.
As firestorms fail never to amaze,
The three combine, and triumph in the blaze!
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 13, 2009

The Deeper Symphony

Without restraint all passion waxes cold,
For he must lay the wood before the flame;
If sparks ignite a twig, ‘tis not the same,
As pyramids of arbors burning bold!
Disorder is a terror to behold,
The mark eludes the man with broken aim,
For vision’s bind when focused on a dame,
And Truth obscure to spirits uncontrolled.
Adventure calls the master of the soul,
For he designs an epic from the flame,
Constructing for his tapestry a frame,
Investing romance for a tale of gold.
So wax your ears from hot cacophony,
Surrender to the deeper symphony.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 7, 2009

The People’s Self-Restraint

As Draco, Solon, Jefferson perceived,
Society will thrive beneath the law,
If just and wise provisions, undeceived,
Will regulate the passions of the mob.
As Tocqueville stated well, the age arrives:
Aristocrats adopt Democracy,
As throne and altar fall, the people thrives,
Yet now we fight a different tyranny.
This age holds promise and debauchery,
And law must now restrain the latter half,
For men with reason gain nobility,
As long as Justice rules on their behalf.
The people’s rule holds no inherent wrong,
But temperance must direct their passion’s song.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-July 3, 2009

The Passion of Abstinence

The beauty here before my eyes deceives,
She cannot in all likelihood be mine,
For while her presence be a fragrant breeze,
Her soul must complement my soul’s design.
The maiden yet still hidden tells the truth,
For God has destined for us n’ere to part,
So struggling against the rage of youth,
I must prepare myself for Cupid’s dart.
Which love is truly passionate by far,
The one that loves the present girl alone,
Or he that perseveres the longest yard,
To find the star, his destiny to know?
So abstinence cannot be truly bleak,
It fuels the love that all immortals seek.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 2, 2009

Professional Humility

With clumsy feet I stand upon the brink,
Where certainty collapses into mist,
I fear that I shall soon begin to sink,
And taste regret for all that I have missed.
This fallen world says follow passion’s call,
Fulfill desire and give spirit rest,
Yet passion is a mystery to all,
And of its fickleness they all attest.
Utility seems more reliable,
Yet if it lacks desire’s ceaseless flame,
It follows man’s opinion- fallible,
And makes success itself a very shame.
I venture on the calling of my heart,
May faith and love perfect the Master’s art.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 2, 2009

The Perils of Selfish Love

Libidinous is he who seeks his gain,
Embracing beauty for desire’s sake,
Bequeathing misery in his own wake,
Disgrace shall etch the meaning of his name.
Poor duty claims the spirit of the same,
In fear all expectation soon shall break,
For he again is seeking his own sake,
And short of glory, virtue fills with pain.
Superfluous appears the lover’s game,
For it excels all reason and debate,
No fear can rule him, neither any fate,
He loves her for herself, and not her name.
A mystery that baffles every greed,
Love self and fail, love others and succeed.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-July 25, 2009

In Praise of Eros

The tyrant Youth destroys the human heart-
Awaking errant passions yet unjust,
Distracting students with the lover’s dart,
Insatiable, miraculous, and just.
For rising to his place, the human stands,
While being, he majestically becomes,
Desire marks his glory, and his chance-
He lacks divinity, to it succumbs.
The pinnacle of life is not despair,
But reaching ever higher, does it bow,
For Man to live, he must receive a share
Of future, past and ever-present now.
Oh Eros, you who ever vex our hearts,
Continue to unleash your holy darts!
-Tyler William O’Neil
-July 3, 2009

I Cupiditas Idonea

(Fit passion)
Afore the age of thinking man began,
A sensual desire filled his soul,
Yet though to ev’ry woman, all men ran,
They found their rapture never to be whole!
Then Founders struck the seeds of newer age,
They found the way to make the boy a Man,
They molded noble men from age to age,
Their passion geared from petty to Divine!
Yet lately modern man unleashed the beast-
To find the glory and the vigor lost.
For passion caged becomes a noble beast,
And whim indulged becomes a passion lost!
If love is to be worthless, treat it such
To be divine, denial is a must.
- Vir Cogitans Americanus
Scribit Dies XXVI Maii, anno Domini MMVII

150 The Will To Live

The woman standing there intoxicates-
The beauty of her hair and features meld,
Her beauteous form, my blazing flame awaits,
My passion’s storm, her lovely body welds.
Yet now I ask- “Am I in love with her?”
My hardest task, to understand myself,
True love is Will for Good to come to her,
It is not understood, this highest wealth.
And yet when I conceive of what I would,
I know I would not grieve upon her death,
For if I lost her to another’s good,
The winter’s frost would make me loathe her breath.
This will to live- a wish to her possess,
No worth does give, save wisdom in its death.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 4, 2007

117 The Ancient Wisdom

Why question ye, the path assigned to man?
The majesty, both simple and benign.
The ancient pattern set was not began,
To kill the love, beget a darker time.
So many years ago, the wise decreed,
The system dead and cold in modern time,
Yet now is clear, ‘twas not done out of greed,
And neither beer, as it did speak a rhyme.
The modesty enflamed forbidden love,
The majesty arose the passion true,
The family was pure, as is a dove,
And man and wife, unbroken, could renew.
The system now decayed was not a curse,
With love and glory flayed, ‘tis now much worse.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written December 18, 2006

114 The Mockery

Awake, ye slumb’ring spirits of the night!
Awake, ye little dove, your lord returns!
Awake, and see the beauty in the light,
Ignite the soul, until your passion burns!
By never-ending slumber were you caught,
The wicked silence of the modern soul,
With foolish merriment you once were bought,
Your spirit, to be lively, was made cold.
May vivid light of beauty shine again!
May bliss of heart and soul be shown in flesh,
Contrast the horrid mockery of sin,
And shine the light of love as from the creche!
Oh truer love, true sensuality,
True beauty shine, and mock the mockery!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written December 10, 2006