Sonnet 112

All that man is or is yet meant to be,
All history past or that yet still to come,
Is but a second of eternity
When measured from sweet birth unto dread doom.
From murky past he crawled into the light
And from all fours he gradually stood on two;
Subdued a savage world through will and might,
And with freed hands, gods in his image, hew.
Unto these fashioned gods he then gave thanks;
To wood and stone he then did bow and pray,
And bade his brethren join him in high trance;
Sheer supplication vowed a better way.
Some carved their gods of wood and some of stone;
Born of one pith, yet each believed his own.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 111

No man is free if he believes the chains
That hold him now still bind him when they’re gone,
For freedom lives more as a thought that frames
Our future course within our earthly bonds.
True freedom lives in souls that ever dream,
And thrives in thoughts that cannot be confined;
It is a pride that hate cannot demean;
It is a truth that triumphs over lies.
A man, crippled by gods, can yet live free
Though to some mortals, may seem prison bound,
Yet through his window on the world may see
A life of purpose here, and yet beyond.
True liberty leaves victimhood behind;
The greatest chains reside within our minds.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 110

You mighty meddling morons let me be
Alone within pure thoughts that are my own,
Content to live within reality
Not some conniving vision from a throne.
You cannot will a falsity to truth,
Nor can you paint all blackness into white;
Purport all earth’s misgivings to subdue
And turn all mortal darkness into light.
What God decreed you know what’s best for man,
That you dictate the freedoms of the soul,
That you best know how one should think and when;
Each dictum but subversive overthrow.
The witless weak your evil lies enchain
But men of humble truth shall rise again.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 109

Like an iced vodka with a twist of lime,
Your beauty did assuage my love torn soul;
I drank you in as if to sooth my mind,
Though arm in arm, each new the other’s goal.
I pulled you close and took another sip,
Then pushed you back and stirred you with my eyes,
As though to see clear through was not enough
That ‘neath the surface sure was some disguise.
That moment you stood true, my dearest friend,
Sent but to sooth my bitter heart felt pain;
I felt your favor thus would never end,
And I would ever flourish in your reign.
Still, drinks are drinks, so measured, you were nice;
When full consumed, ’twas not much left but ice.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Love’s Minions

The heart still beats in the breast;
The sun still sets in the west;
Warm tears still fall from the eye;
What happened to you and I?

Sweet birds still sing in the trees;
Butterflies float on the breeze;
The eagle still soars on high;
What happened to you and I?

Fair children still laugh and play;
Dawning yet brings a new day;
What reason is there to cry;
What happened to you and I?

We started as you and me,
But that was not meant to be;
No need to criticize why;
That’s how we became you and I.

What will our future now bring;
To me love meant everything;
Beautiful flowers still die;
Sad songs still sung with a sigh.

Lovers are blinded by lust;
Futures are given to trust;
Fate intervenes by and by;
Minions may never know why.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 108

There is no greater scourge than apathy
For it destroys the passion of the soul;
‘tis better we embrace antipathy
For there, at least, black passion is the goal.
The heart that beats and bleeds is yet alive,
And though numb hearts may never feel foul pain;
Without bleak woe, to what does joy subscribe;
What loathsome tenets do pure souls disdain?
What good exists without the bad to chide;
How sweet is love without the taste of hate;
How grand be peace if never war betide;
How great is providence without cruel fate?
Apathy unbound, leads to irrelevance;
The sweetest life is joy and sadness spent.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

La Femme Terrible

Effete the lovely found a horse,
There saddled up and armor donned;
Brave Trinity had headed north,
And so the south was free to roam.

She grabbed a lance and new broad sword,
And tied a mace unto her side,
Then headed out without a word,
And rode until the eventide.

The sallow moon had fairly risen;
In yawning dark the village gleamed;
Chivalry had long been stricken,
So what defenses could there be?

Her spurs dug deep into the flesh;
The gelded horse neighed out in pain;
The moonlight showed her faint moustache;
These heathens now would know her reign.

Now like a banshee she did wail
And hell on hooves descended down,
The church was torched, each house assailed,
Until she razed them to the ground.

The fathers first did feel the lance,
And mothers held their children near,
But love and prayers stood not a chance;
Her wickedness spread everywhere.

The children were wrenched from their arms;
The sword did flash and blood did flow;
Convert or die! These are my terms!
Convert to what? They did not know.

Their tiny skulls did feel the mace,
And mothers breasts from ribs were cleaved
True motherhood was fair disgraced;
The eunuch fathers prayed and grieved.

The children screamed and stood wide eyed
To see their breastless mothers weep;
To witness loss of blood and pride
And see their fathers on their knees.

Sweet innocence fell on the blade,
Forever changing history;
Effete the maiden, now the knave;
Beelzebub did dance with glee.

The town did smolder through the night.
And greasy smoke did cloak the day;
The ones that stayed were blinded quite
By the cinders that remained.

If only Eve had bitten twice
And choked on fruit or spittle green,
Sweet animals would sure suffice
And would not love or life demean.

 

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

A Word or Two

If pens are mightier than swords
Why aren’t battles fought with words?

If words can hurt and cause great pain
Why aren’t gentler words the main?

If gentler words can hereby sooth
To these kinder words let’s move.

If words can all our problems solve
Let us pray and be absolved.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Just a Boy

When I was just a boy,
The world was but a toy,
And I rejoiced in glee,
Pure joy and majesty.

Then as a man still young,
I waggled every tongue,
And basked in magic bowers,
With maidens of the hour.

Soon then a man full grown,
I savaged on my own,
Success was but assured;
My life in work immured.

But now that green is gold;
The future seems less bold;
I sit here with my wife
And marvel at my life.

Though magic may move on,
The world still sings sweet songs;
I treasure every year
And all that I hold dear.

But someday I may say,
I gave the time away;
Yet number here my sum –
I’ve done my distance run.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

The Mountain and the Flower

Raw heart now salted gingerly with pain,
And of this dying love what shall remain,
With hope strained tears my passion I did stain,
For love of you; no greater prize to gain.

The strongest love may unrequited be,
And greater hearts have sold their dignity
In sad belief the other might yet see,
That only love can bridge eternity.

Still, love is both a mountain and a flower,
Immovable, but with a gentle power;
A monument to love and to love’s vowers;
A beauty that is right for every hour.

Yes, it is clear you will not take my hand,
And in this humble solitude I stand;
Love is a flower and yet a mountain grand;
Your heart’s desire is ever my command.

Will you remember, sometimes, when I’m gone,
That once a man did offer here his bond,
That he would fight and die if you were wronged;
And you would never listen to his song?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.