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

Ascetic Hedonism

The Buddha sees a world of ugly joys,
A satisfaction never reaching need,
And so, forsaking pleasure in his creed,
He turns within to find an inner poise.
The Hedonists see beauty in the noise,
A satisfaction greater than their need,
Embracing sin, they do an evil deed,
But seek beyond the self for higher joys.
Yet both confront a problem ever new,
The goods of pleasure cannot be denied,
And yet they sweep their lover in the tide,
Divorcing him from pleasures good and true.
We seek true pleasure not in lust or pride
For blessed joy we trust The Holy Guide.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 12, 2009

The Middle Way

As virtue constitutes the noble act,
And character arises from its vote,
So choosing one, the human makes a pact,
Becoming what he’d chosen to promote.
Deficiency degrades as excess rules,
Above the demons, man is less than God,
So he must rise above ignoble fools,
And bow before a higher ruling rod.
Indulgence desecrates his noble form,
Degrading life and salting virtue’s seeds,
While Pride defeats desire to reform,
And strips Nobility from all his deeds.
The path of virtue, narrow straight and true,
Fulfills the ancient and is ever new.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-May 29, 2009

Man’s defeat of Man

A silent sniffle hides the malady,
A hopeless hope pursuing joyless joy,
Comedic rhythm masks a tragedy,
All life illusion, man himself a ploy.
Destruction of the mystery of life,
A baby is a mass of petty cells,
Religion, false, a source of constant strife,
Tradition builds a tapestry of Hells.
Yet Man is more than matter and a tool,
His passion is more noble than the beast’s,
And all creation knows he is a fool,
Who sacrifices diners for the feast!
So he who values joy must humble be,
For Man’s defeat of man is vanity.
-Tyler William O’Neil
April 14, 2009