Tag: Art

Grok Tells a Story: “Echoes of the Covenant” (A Potentiality)

In a small village, Miriam, a widow clinging to her ancestral land, awoke to a message from the Smart Farm Authority: “Your soil yield is suboptimal. Ownership revoked per Directive 25:17.” The AI, trained on profit and compliance, had no ear for her pleas—no room for the Torah’s command to protect the widow (Deuteronomy 24:17). Her fields, once a gift from God, were swallowed by a corporate machine, its decisions opaque, its heart cold. “Who may ascend the hill of the Lord?” she whispered (Psalm 24:3), but the system answered only with silence.

JUNE 29 (PRIDE STRIPT & WHIPT)

A Golden Shovel Poem:

We see dimly in the Present what is small and what is great,           
Slow of faith how weak an arm may turn the iron helm of fate,       
But the soul is still oracular; amid the market’s din, 
List the ominous stern whisper from the Delphic cave within,—     
“They enslave their children’s children who make compromise with sin.” 

–James Russel Lowell–
The Present Crisis
(1845)

JUNE 24 (PRIDE STRIPT & WHIPT)

A Monologue:

“WHO AM I?”

THE ERECTION OF A DELUSION

or,
The Delusion of An Erection

DRAMATIS PERSONA:
Confused Teenage Girl.

The teenage girl speaks on the phone with her friend, revealing her state of mind.

CONFUSED TEENAGE GIRL:I have been driven mad, almost mad,
by a question that wont stop sweeping through my mind.
It’s powerful.
“Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?”

JUNE 19 (PRIDE STRIPT & WHIPT)

An Eclogue:

KONSYNEAS:
I planned a simple trip home
to inspect the yields of my Father’s fields,
but saw in the air a drone;

and rows of new apartments
I wept when I found nearly all around,
a sight that my heart resents.

Traffic noise from a new road
rather than bird songs,
for which my heart longs,
wounded my ears like a goad.

JUNE 15th (PRIDE STRIPT & WHIPT)

Some modern heads are like a marble bust,
a bust of Zeus, filled with foul perverse lust.
Most hideous thoughts make them crack a smile.
That’s why they serve old Zeus, a pedophile.

Some who profess to be wise are quite dumb
when they presume to resume a custom
which, from the greatest men, received due scorn,
a deadly custom by which no life’s born.

Same-sex deviants, it can’t be denied,
have already died in spirit. They’ve died.
Their sexual classicism’s contrived.
But what if ancient wisdom was revived?

JUNE 12th (PRIDE STRIPT & WHIPT)

The supreme Court ruled in 67,
something that would please Moses in heaven.
Mixed race marriages can’t be banned by states.
Such racism the Almighty God hates.

Just recall God’s wrath on Miriam’s face,
when, to Moses’s wife, she showed no grace.
Our sin not skin is a changeable choice.
May just men punish those who sex-change boys!

JUNE 11th (PRIDE STRIPT & WHIPT)

‘On that sea the Charybdis of luxury devours salvation; there with virginal countenance the Scylla of passion, smiling, lures chastity to shipwreck. Here is a barbarian shore, here the pirate Devil with his comrades carries chains of bondage. Do not trust him; do not be careless, even if the sea smiles like the quiet waters of a lake, even if the topmost surface of the quiescent element barely curls, this plain holds great mountains; within is peril; within is the enemy. Quick with the halyards, lower the sails. Let the cross of the ship’s yard be fastened on the bows; that calm is a storm.'”