HOLY ROLLER.

I was on the island of Malta when I realized

I was in a type-scene and the snakes

couldn’t hurt a holy roller.

A righteous man has a satisfied mind

and a protected existence—

whether or not the second part is true

the first is a lesson I learn and relearn.

Think, speak, and act

with reverence and loving-kindness.

In all things ask, “What does love require?”

Everything else will sort out,

sleep comes easy, joy is abundant

and the venom of a vitriolic

culture bears no ill effect.

ISHTAR.

After days of being driven in the desert sun

like livestock but with cruelty—

hook in nose, whip to back,

no falling behind

we arrive at our fabled destination

and I think no thoughts of my own.

I cannot…

because the gate is designed

to make up my mind.

She is blue like the sea

and squirming with monsters

she belongs to Ishtar, trampler of lions,

the warrior goddess

who does take prisoners

lots of them, lots of us,

our lot has been cast

to enter her house, her city, her keep

her womb—and be reborn in her image.

It looms tall and stands out

from the mud brick city

as a warning of hollowed, deathly hollows

to those who will not kiss her signet ring—

see the dragon, the lion, the bull,

and sense fertility, love, sex, war, frenzy.

Amalgamate! or seal your fate

as a suffering servant.

After days of being driven in the desert sun

like a way to make a dollar but with cruelty

billboard, web funnel,

attention traded for soul—

we arrive at our ancient lamentation

and I think no thoughts of my own.

I cannot…

because the gate is burned

in my mind across time.

I’ve seen her before,

step down from her lions’ back

and swallow a culture whole for a snack—

while blood drips

down her supermodel chin

she stares you dead in the soul and grins

at a people who long ago

lost the word “sin”

and crafted gods of ourselves

and cannot begin

to understand the danger of her city.

Ishtar… whispers her bed

is not far from the crowds

and when she takes you there,

she devours—

eats you alive and left

with glazed dead eyes

breathing but some other thing

lives inside your skin

and you are looking for

a next product or purchase.

Assimilate or feel

the full weight of empire’s

ability to bleed you out without pity.

And worse, this generation thinks

the flood is a myth

and Ishtar’s gate is full

of corporation and brands

or Amazon orders

you don’t remember placing.

all while tsunami bombs

fall on stretches of beach,

that would be picturesque

save for our overreach—

and we are still haunted

by ancient waters.

Because it’s no longer about a warrior’s code.

You claim your kleos

in an entirely different mode—

it’s the brand on your fleece,

it’s the new lease

barely afforded it

so that at Friday night lights

you’re in that car in plain sight—

it’s subtle. so we carry on

but it is a whole lot harder

to leave Babylon.

10TH MUSE.

Old Boeotia gave us nine Muses,

to inspire story, science, and art.

But the tenth Muse is Pain

and no one talks about the gain

that springs forth from a broken heart,

after the one essential ingredient

has been mixed in

with ambition and ability

and stirred around

with anxiety and fragility.

That’s right. The tenth Muse is Pain

and while Odysseus voyaged

she gave away his wife,

and before Achilles ran with he moon

she slayed Patroclus with a knife.

While Oedipus the King was blind

she gave the one-eyed

prophet sight

all to orchestrate the kind of sheer misery

that could give poets

their sacred right.

She lives on; past hero and Homeric verse

to slide Edger Allen

another drink at the bar

and remind him inevitable death is near

and to send thoughts to push Emily

to a heart that beats blood and fear.

Oh and she took Vincent’s ear,

because his art required worldly scorn—

she watched them all suffer

so that starry nights might be born.

But don’t think she ever held compassion

watching tragedy

overtake their passion—

that is up to the artist

to sense the presence

of the goddess,

the never-named

tenth Muse and use

her cruelties as clay,

her addictions as paint

her wicked ways as words on a page

and make beauty out of the rage.

ARENA.

What has the gladiator

to do with the commoner?

The one who

has never fought in the arena

cannot tell you one, single thing

about how to be a gladiator.

The criticism of the spectator

is one of many things underfoot,

as you contest with and embody

your great purpose in the world.

What has the artist to do with the critic?

The one who

has never painted colors unseen

or told stories never heard—

has nothing to say to a creator god.

Is this too bold or too much

to claim inspiration and sacred writ?

All I know is most people

settle for bread and circus

while gladiators win tripods and freedom

and artists re-create the House of the World.

ONLY DREAMERS DREAM.

They will envy your coat

and spurn your visions,

throw you in a pit

and tell everyone you’re dead,

sell you into slavery to Egypt or Enron,

and tell the entire world

that yours is a tragic story.

Alright.

They will accuse you

of things you never did,

dissappear you into prison

because of your low social station,

forget you even after

you have bandaged their soul,

and leave you even longer still

in the dank and dark…

But only dreamers dream.

Only dreamers dream,

and the colors you see

they cannot and never will.

You are a wizard

in a muggle world

and your art will save your soul

and heal the broken

whether you are in the coat or in the pit,

whether you are enslaved or free,

whether you stand accused or on trial,

whether you work

in just a beam of prison light:

your story is not tragic.

It is actually one of few

that really matter.

And only dreamers dream.

AMOR FATI.

Love the hand that fate deals you,

and play it as your own.”

How often do we try to rewrite stars

or attempt to claim a different zone?

The philosopher King explains

a Stoic notion of Amor Fati.

You should love fate;

make friends with destiny.

The big idea is this: Do not be remiss

when things do not seem to turn your way,

instead call upon the inner wisdom to say,

“this is the path written for me to walk.

Be it rising to emperor or outlined in chalk,

I will be a lover of my lives

and a person who strives

and who does not fear ekpyrosis.”

This does not mean we fail to write stars.

Not for a second do we cease to strive.

The fabric our lives are cosmically woven

And so in an age drinking magical potion,

Aurelius has a more powerful gnosis:

Trust that all is for the best.

For we carry our fate with us—

and it carries us.

Your stars will do the rest.

Wherever you find them, traveller.

TRIPPLE RIPPLE.

If you study or speak

of gods and humankind

with one of the old world faiths in mind

the driving conception

of reality is triple-ripple:

heaven on top, earth in the middle,

nether-gloom below. And we’re on a yo-yo.

And so, the gods come down

and go back up,

we go down if we are bad

and up if we’re up to snuff.

The cosmology is three-tiered,

and to be feared

if you find yourself needing

to get a deity to come down,

your sick child

keeps getting the divine thumbs-down,

if you want to know your maker

but cannot pierce the veil

or can’t get an honest prayer

through ceiling mail,

or even worse,

find yourself cursed to head below

to Sheol, Hades, Tarturus, or it just follows

you are probably not going up

once in the ground…

Here’s what I have found

in my seeking: When speaking

of God as a modern,

triple ripple is no longer

my favorite flavor

of cosmic ice cream.

Too vanilla—no thrilla.

Because we’ve been to space in rockets.

There are no beings

going up and down ladders,

or pockets of space like the heavens,

just matter elegantly exploded

and deep-space precision

with many more

divinely made layers than three,

and many more luminaries to see,

so my decision

has been to name God

better, bigger, and wilder

with no fear of up or down,

and with milder levels of determinacy.

Between you and me,

a sacred text can show you

how people named divinity in history,

but it cannot see how

nomenclature necessarily

will adjust as mystery unfolds

with nature and so let it be

The entire universe is evolving—

so is your holy language.

Ready or not,

I am naming a God of the galaxies now

and yet I am pretty sure

that being is somehow…

with me and in me and for me

and adores me

and made this entire firework celebration

stretched eternally

outside of the third-rock station

because she

loves kids and wonders if we

could grow up

into something more elegant

and brilliant and composite

of the stardust in our veins

and the dirt from the ground

that resembles the largest

prowess and goodness

matched with an ought to

and a should-ness

that would make

a good and wise parent so proud.

So be wary of divine conceptions

stuck. in. time.

and make sure to look at reality

with a spine… and it’s best

that you always tell the truth,

and say it with your chest.

ATREYU.

Your assertion of ultimate meaninglessness

and materialism is a cold, dark vacuum—

believe me I’ve felt it…

gripping me like Atreyu,

creeping across Fantastica,

drowning my horse.

I loved that goddamned horse.

Of course.

We all wonder about purpose

and about Source,

Many friends I love can find no recourse.

And so—I hear what you’re saying,

believe me I feel ya,

but Listen.

Xenophon says in his Memorabilia:

The soul is that which in us

participates in the divine

and that which in us rules.

X marks the spot on

two key points he espouses:

One. We have a means

to join the divine

in the ongoing creation

of the House of the world—

you rhyme your Maker

when you create

what is טוב מאוד.

And two.

Your house is an abode

that matches an essence

beyond space and time;

and holds awareness

of day to day and the Milky Way—

it’s the soul that the the body houses.

Do not give up

when the black void thunders,

the beginning of divine knowledge

is wonder.

ATLANTIS.

When I first started time traveling

no one even knew.

I would pick up a book at the TSU

library and dive scary deep into ancient ruins.

I was searching for Atlantis. …Classic.

Something grew in

me that desired ancient answers

to modern catastrophe,

or at least a comparison

to the 21st century atrophy

that I saw all around me:

everyone was a drunk astronaut.

“Houston, we’ve lost the wonder

of floating through space.”

Just send us

all the supernova pictures you’ve got

and shots of the big five

African land animals in case

they are extinct

and we can no longer observe

in fifty years or so,

since we are disinterested to curve

our consumption assumption

and seem on a mission

to laugh in the face

of our goldilocks condition—

we turned up the marketing

and turned down the magic.

We are just close enough

and far enough away from a star

where a more humble Icarus

could actually fly on par

with gods and way above mortals,

but he’s too close

and we are too verbose

to read literary parallels

or worry that hell

is not an afterlife;

it is what we create

when we prize

profit over people and making sales

over majestic whales

and short term shine over time.

I was time traveling

to learn something that could save us

and Atlantis was just one place

to start to frame us

because she was

a lost, ruined civilization

of mythic greatness—

she flew above her station

only to have her opulence

swallowed by the sea.

Even by the time of Plato

she was so buried beneath the waves

and the myth and the wearied

remembrances of her lore.

Because it was just too tragic. Do you know what we could actually create here?

I am one of the few

still focused on my creator. It’s clear

to me our primary purpose is be mini-makers

who keep the House of the World beautiful.

Any takers?

The slow growth

from garden to divine metropolis

isn’t a metaphor and it is.

As are primeval floodwaters, so

there’s at least a ghost

of a chance of another rainbow.

“Houston, we’ve lost the nobility

of the human race.”

We can be so evil

that coasts displace continents

and we reach towards

silent but starry firmament…

because the gods watched

from their mountain

when she was overtaken,

and were content when

screams went up from the punishment,

of overreach

and now Atlantis gold

might wash up on the beach…

but you will not find many students

of the Classics.

SPACE THEY CANNOT TOUCH.

Within you is a weak part of the soul

that can be bought for a price

and a strong part of the soul

that can never be bribed or compromised.

The strong part of your soul is defiant

but needs to be resilient

if you want to know yourself

(and like yourself) out of genuine integrity.

Buy the more expensive grain for the camel

who needs to caravan a long ways.

Invest in time, meditation, and nourishment

for the virtuous soul who needs

to live a long and virtuous life.

This is the space they cannot touch

with ads, or interest rates, or promises

of how you will look wearing this or driving that

or living here or traveling there.

It is the higher soul,

that touches the face of God

and it has been within you all along.

ON MY WAY TO HELL.

I was taught to grow up

and save the world,

but I can’t save myself

from where the world is headed.

Call up my therapist,

tell him I’ve got the gist,

what’s under the hood—

I finally said it.

The reduce, reuse, recycle

band-aid on my heart

cannot stop the blood flow of a gash

clear across a chamber

and if I were to start

turning in every bottle,

they would just stash

them all on a boat

to China on the sneak

and smoke them into the sky

as they watch the field burn

or shove them into the ground

in an undoable soil-churn

or toss them into the smog-dark sea,

with no plan to rescue me…

or any of you.

Monsters snatch without even a peak

at consequences long term,

a desire vampire draining your blood blue,

just so long as Captain Crusader,

Corporate at Vanguard

saw shares remain steady,

listening to Regulators.

Warren G and Buffet alike are heady,

neither needs a calculator,

to do the math, that the plan’s marred

with layers of problems

and capitalist killers

somehow overhunting the population

that has an overpopulation problem.

Christ.

…would look at this mess,

and look into my eyes

full of grace and truth.

Grace: You did what you could

and I know you

wanted to save the world kid.

Truth: This is a mission impossible bid

for greedy men

who don’t want it to be saved.

They want to crucify it, string it up

in front of every poor person

in the street to say, “What’s up?”

So they only meet

people without hope who pay.

They want what they

have marketed to the younger

generation more than a world

without hunger and potable water,

and so, sorry my son,

I know how this story looks when its done,

and without repentance

there’s no redemption,

at least in the holy book

where I’m coming from.  

And so Jesus and I drink a cold one

and stare off into the setting sun

of everyone who ever found themselves

stuck in spaghetti-western-shit-show

that ends in tragedy.

Just him and me,

and ever so quietly,

it saved me,

to have such a true friend

on my way to hell.

ZIGGURAT.

Ziggurat?

No thanks I’m trying to quit.

Are you sure?

It’s a massive achievement

of ancient architecture—

and you could fill a four hour lecture

with the ingenuity

and improbability that Sir Wooley

uncovered when he brought a team

from Britain to fully

excavate this great monument

to the goddess of the moon.

He extrapolates

some 720,000 bricks

arranged in a tower

you could see from the sticks,

and at the tippy top a temple,

just for making Nanna swoon.

Old Babylon.

One of the first empires in the chain

that shackled human imagination,

and her tower gained fame

of biblical proportions,

almost to heaven in Genesis eleven.

Cigarette?

No thanks I’m trying to quit?

Are you sure?

It’s the perfect relaxer

outside the architecture

or lack there of,

nothing rises above one level

—a perplex-er—

to bedevil space-alien archaeologists

in ten-thousand years

when by all rights

every dig square appears

to yield a tragic testament

to creative atrophy

when in 30 years

coast to coast strip malls

leveled intellectually

the landscape

and quality of human life,

trading art for logistics

and diversity for neo-globalized,

market applied statistics

that were sure to make us

forget luminary deities

and the story of foreign colonies,

to keep us on our knees

competing with neighbors

for who has the shiniest golf-cart.

Make a bet?

No thanks I’m over it.

Sometimes towers of power are tall,

sometimes they are flat,

but in retrospect,

it’s going to be clear that

every dig square excavated

tells a story of how we were fated

the entire time we debated

economy and keys to prosperity,

we were cashing consumption checks

mother earth and moon goddess

could not afford

and so in some year of our Lord,

not much was left,

and the left and the right, fell silent.

They were bereft

that paradise was paved over

and hoping on a Mars rover.

Is there some way to turn back the clock

and save face?

For me, it means

I need to stop building to the heavens

and remember my place—

I am here to take care

of the lowliest of beasts

and the poorest of people.

And the highest

I need to build

is lower than your steeple.

CORPORATE FUTURE.

I hold dreams like a cistern

never losing a drop,

and like a light beam across the dungeon

where they try to put us all away—

you restore my soul

and I am defiantly hopeful again.

Imagine trying to sell a Galilean healer

on silly slogans, quick fixes,

and “friendliness meetings”

when he feels the heartbeat

of the earth in his feet

and each of her children as close as family.

How is that for a company identity?

All your diviners are cutting themselves,

haunted by the ghost of corporate future.

I smile through glassy eyed chaos

and tread water

with every space age polar bear;

the great wind down ensues,

or ekpyrosis begins, and no matter,

because I know

they will feel exactly the same.

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TEXT AND ROCK is Mark Shaffer and Eric Madison. I’m (this is Mark) a doctoral student in Near Eastern and Classical Literature, a writer and podcast producer, a part-time punk rocker, and a full-time coffee snob. I also work part-time at T-Mobile. Don’t come see me there.

Eric is a musician, podcaster, rhythm instructor, and dragon enthusiast. Yes. Dragon enthusiast is a thing… We love to see people grow in life and virtue and we hope our poetry helps! Contact us and tell us how you liked the show at info@textandrock.com. Fist bump.