louisev (louisev) wrote in zebratta_poems,

Romances for String - Second Romance Section 2

The Meaning of Altestier

Altester Tier = Altester

The oldest
And the Beast
Revealed in casualest byplay
In the oldest place
At last I understand
The altitude of Grace
It orders me
And sets a shriller Pace.

Domine in Pacem

Universitaet Trier

The Power in the Puns

I do not know
When darkness whispers words,
The meaning of this polyglottal game
Or what the fevered Morning brings

Now that Time and Tide
Are fast upend,
Another cycle past
And I know
The vicious cycle must be run
But as they do
They will be done
And as they judge
They will be judged
There is power in my Pun
Now watch the Rabbits
Rise, and run.


Changing of the Guard

Who will serve
The Sicher and the Sich
The Stecker and the Streck
Who will lead
When those of us,
Too delicate by birth
Have swallowed Greed?

I await the news
Carried on the wings of night
I await disaster
In the precincts of the Light
For everything will be undone
All my loves, restrained
I am far too late, employed.


Der Naechstes Mal In Baden Baden

Cold I came, and winded
To the alter I had lost
Befriended by the Allgemein
All too soon entrost

Reinstalled, by Altestier
I am not thrown back
Having faced my deepest fear
This freedom is the cost

I am engrossed
I cannot say what passes now
The storm is far and gone
To Baden
Where my soul is ever won.

Baden Baden

Mine is Not the Hand (II)

I should not be wroth
With those who starve
And seek my brief approving glance

Who am I
That they should hunger
For the banquet of my grace?

It is clear I do not see
The wake I leave behind me
The footprint of a Titan in the sand
Though I ceased to be that God
When I forsook that God
Humility rests ill with me

I wish one moment
I could see myself as they
For I am not the Christ that sends them forth
Mine is not the hand
That shows the Way.

8-Nov 05

The World Grows Dark

Even as my bliss is crowned with joy
My sons are mute and horrified
And I am brought to heel,
Stumbling, week
Uncertain, as the crowd of mumbling madmen
Halt my course
They are proud, undaunted,
And are wrong.

These flint-willed Ignorant
Are schooled by Wrong
And I cannot be strong to right them
In the dim, despairing emptiness and cold
I must be neutral and unwavering
But am weak
There is much too much of me
To bid me further speak.


The Lion, Unseen

And not unknown,
He is unknown to me,
But never better shown.
Today I feel too ill,
Wracked with indecision
My creative mind is stilled

I am chastened by uncertainty and doubt
I will not know the yet unseen and yet so near to me,
He holds himself apart
And while the world draws close to me
He will remain apart.

Those I hold in high regard
Have kept me far away,
Perhaps I will remain unknown
Until this round is done

I cannot know
It is Cassandra’s curse to see the world in shades,
The shadowplay of ignorance remains
And still holds sway,
I am alone,
This is my curse and benefit
And so remain,


The Dead, Being Raised

Are weeping not today,
If I but tried
This calumnz, this Want
To overcome
If I but cried
Upon my last protector’s shoulder,
Weeping child
The stronger to be preserved in future Glory.

If I but tried…
I would not greet the morning of this death by fear,
But strength
By music of my once-inspired Hand
Be raised…


Adoramus te Criste
Et benedictimus tui
Qui a per sanctam crucen tuam
Redemisti mundum
Qui passus est pro nobis
Domine, Domine
Miserere nobis.


Like the worst Romantic hero in a maudlin tale
My tears are false, and falsely wept
There is no innocence in these
Imaginary tristes
I had made my death of days,
If my begging for approval from a stranger is in vain
Then I am twice as vain
If her coyness and withdrawal pique my pain
This is not a grief I gladly bear,
But drama of a most ungainly kind
This triste, a falsity
A beggar’s banquet
In my mind.

For Jane, Trier

Forty-two Hours Later

Seven years
And twice times ten
Under His rule
I sit where once I died
I tell the Truth
Where once I lay, and lied.

I wonder now
Who will sing this Lied?
This, I cannot know
I remember when
The Storm began to Snow,
In 1998, in forever,
In Ohio
I remember Antioch
As late I write, and know.

I am stricken
By a newer, ancient fever now,
I am not so full of regret
As I was in Altestier,
My ignorance had weight
My failures were from fear

Today I have one fear
And that is in the Now
Prefigures death to come
For I am wont to pain
I look behind, ahead
To Houston in its feign,
I dread the years of Calumny ahead
I dread the nights of Rain(Reign.)


My Inspiration

Comes not from sunshine
Nor from rain
It is in the deeper discipline of Tone
From minds reorganized
And grounded in the Stone.

I am comforted by these
They are of a lighter class of Peas.


Leaving Altestier

The secret long-concealed
In one mundane translation
This work was done
I return, ungainly, and uncertain
From what was lost and won.

And so, return,
In days of slow uncertain Grief
That summer was a passing,
That Autumn, passing brief.

And so, I grieve
Misfortune takes the friend I made
And sends me home, to leave.

I am returned,
Harried, in a frenzy of the strife
It is a kinder form of stress
Than my older, faster life.
And so, I leave.


The Year
Of dreaded new beginning
Has been rung,
And my fear, the death of pain
The pain of death
Has unbegun.

I hardly dare to breathe
For forgetting of that fear
Of ending
Joy will take
A bit of practice
In unbending.

1.1.06 Darmstadt

The Sweetness of Autumn

Is unbending in my hands,
I lured her sweetness
With an honesty I did not before possess
And gathered me, the poorest of my wealth
To new Romance,
And ignore the passion
That is seen by me askance.

This is an unspoken calumny,
This moment’s glance.
The love I feel in Altestier
Is felt by all at once
It is all I am
To tender myself in music
As with coin,
And is not felt like passion
That lies buried in the loins.

I cannot express in these cold, black words
The sweetness that holds sway
It must remain in Notes
Until the Eloquence holds sway
The Word remains unspoken,
Until that day.

for Autumn

Will that day dawn

I quiver with unspokenness
That rises in my dream
Between the language of my lips
That hovers in my thoughts
Something of simplicity
Of Music
And of Spring
That will herald Wakening.



It isn’t a diary if I don’t write in it.


The Next Time In Baden Baden

I tried in heat, to run this course
The fuller to be found as fallen,
Trapped by summer and its
Blaze of beauty…
And I wrote
As though on pain of death, I wrote
And as on judgement of the High
Blistered by foot, halted by my Breath
The gauntlet, now, is run.

Baden Baden

Tagesbuch Nochmals

Ich weisse es nicht, was jetzt. Morgen ist ain andere Leben. Alles ist im Frage.

This wisdom is enough
To chase the fear of morning
Through the night.

I am in cloud and blind unknowing
And yet, the way is clear
If I am wiser now
Than when my passion stole me
Then I have learned from my Unknowing,
I am unknown,
And yet, am better, sooner
Sheltered by the Allgemein
There is wisdom in the ignorance I bind,
With darkness do I now approach the Light.

It is dawn. The better for my fortune
To be drawn.
I have been bereft while worldly rich,
And weeping with the promise of success.

This is my final poverty, my Requiem
The time has come
For all to make redress.


On Karnaval

Forced by circumstance
To silence
To my sleep
I grew as calm as death

Death is ever in my thoughts
As I behold the great and avid city on the Rhein,
The place of gross humiliation
Ere I tried
The resurrection of the Werk
My beloved minor D
Was not enough.

And so, I died.

Here in secret, were my Romances destroyed
Here, the height of triumph of my work
The ironies of Calumny
The torments of my Fame
Had crushed my soul to dust.

Oh irony,
That would see this place in sunlight,
From a life so far away.
Is this why I play a trade arcane today,
And do not sing upon a stage?
Yes, this must be so,
I was ill-prepared for Fame.
The smoke of charcoal, to this day, I cannot stand,
Even as the rehearsals are complete,
Even as I win the day,
Nervous but replete.

I shall not die this day,
Nor three years hence,
Despite the Calumny
Despite the wrongs endured
I will yet stay
My future lies before
And is not writ this day.
It is writ this way.



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