III Propositum Vitae

(The Purpose of Life)
Afore the age of Reasoning began,
All life was lived for naught but life itself.
This simple goal was ever praised by Man,
But only if his life held all his wealth.
Yet some were not fulfilled in this conceit,
And held, “Alas, there must be something more-
A goal beyond the water and the meat-
A link to something deeper, spirit’s core.”
And so He sought for wealth beyond the eyes,
A treasure vast beneath what could be seen,
A purpose to fulfill, which never dies,
The Truth that underlies life’s prideful dream.
As men we take the pleasure and the pain,
And ever seek such otherworldly gain.
-Vir Cogitans Americanus
Scribit Dies VI Iunii, Anno Domini MMVII

II Scire Non Scire Cur Est

(To Know Is Not To Know Why)
While science is the cure for many ills,
It answers not the fundamental “why?”
That query set by Grand Eternal Quills
Is questioned now and will be by and by.
What purpose has a strand of DNA,
If not to be the building-block of life?
But why this is to be brings great dismay,
When such a goal is not applied to life.
The purposes which set our reaching goals
Are not derived from how the body works.
But rather they must land upon our souls,
Delivered by Philosophy through Works*.
No scientific thought can claim to say
Why Man must live his life from day to day.
- Vir Cogitans Americanus
Scribit Dies XXVII Maii, Anno Domini MMVII

* Grand works of great thinkers and Religious writers

I Cupiditas Idonea

(Fit passion)
Afore the age of thinking man began,
A sensual desire filled his soul,
Yet though to ev’ry woman, all men ran,
They found their rapture never to be whole!
Then Founders struck the seeds of newer age,
They found the way to make the boy a Man,
They molded noble men from age to age,
Their passion geared from petty to Divine!
Yet lately modern man unleashed the beast-
To find the glory and the vigor lost.
For passion caged becomes a noble beast,
And whim indulged becomes a passion lost!
If love is to be worthless, treat it such
To be divine, denial is a must.
- Vir Cogitans Americanus
Scribit Dies XXVI Maii, anno Domini MMVII

162 Pretium Omnibus Crescet Nihilo

(The worth of all things grows from nothing)
My skeptic friends do ask this query great:
“What God of love would bask in misery?
If God is good then why allow the hate?
Why ever should we see depravity?”
I pondered this, and thought of none and all-
I went to kiss the veil of nothingness,
I found importance in the lack of all-
I saw existence yield its only bliss!
For value does derive from antonyms-
When water is denied, it seems so nice-
The virtue’s gold, so sung in ancient hymns,
Is seen through cold depravities of vice!
Thus evil, once contrasted with the good,
Augments the virtue’s worth, it’s used for good!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written May 1, 2007

158 Sleep

Oh sleep, thou art a boon for weary souls!
Oh dreams, thou art repose for weary minds!
In slumber lies the healer of the holes,
In dreaming dies distress of many kinds!
The misery of life does grow with age,
The tapestry of wisdom, pain displays-
And yet in hallowed sleep is peace the sage,
Repose so greatly deep- it ne'er decays!
Yet life does hold a boon- sweet victory!
It leadeth to the tomb, but to a gold,
For aged life, with Wisdom's industry,
Holds naught of strife, but joyous songs of old!
So sleep in loss, in misery of pain-
But live to cross beyond this happy feign!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O'Neil)
Written March 27, 2007

157 The Partnership

Man longs to know the secrets of the world,
The hidden flow of breezes o’er the earth,
The mystery of death and netherworld,
The gold of living breath, all living’s worth.
To find the secret here, he turns to “laws,”
To thought’s ungainly sphere he does seclude,
He postulates, examines, finds his flaws,
His mind creates new laws, however crude.
Thus knowledge grows, and recreates itself,
Man ever knows much more than once he did,
And yet without a goal, this has no wealth,
As Man without a soul is just an id.
The knowledge by itself is not enough,
Bereft of Wisdom’s wealth it’s naught but fluff.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 26, 2007

156 The Self

What is the self, the essence of the soul?
Has it a wealth, a treasure-trove of gold?
Or is it worthless, stale, and never whole,
A longing pit so pale, and ever cold?
The impulse to beget is ne’er subdued,
The avarice is set to rule the world-
The will to live does other lives exclude,
It fails to give a purpose, to be ruled!
The will to aid comes not from distant self,
The just crusade is waged for higher cause,
True love, that beauty gold, looks not to wealth,
The wisdom of the old wants no applause.
In short all bleak design is of the self,
While golden beauty fine, of higher wealth.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 26, 2007

155 The Failure Of Science

Across the sea, and many desert sands-
The victory of Wisdom does reside,
The Truth, in glory decked, above all lands-
All falsehoods shall be wrecked, all farce denied!
Each People understands whate’er it will,
The shifting of the sands, the skies above,
Yet fullest Truth seems ever unfulfilled,
Man’s constant youth in thought shows lack thereof.
While all believe they know the deepest truth,
They do deceive themselves on that account,
Experience dictates their thought uncouth,
Their one acquaintance rates a slight amount!
Full Truth does lie beyond man’s present state,
His knowledge, like the maund,* does fluctuate.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 18, 2007

* unit of measure in Asia that has different values for different countries

154 The Bridge of Death

A restless soul cries ever for the light-
His constant goal is not to be appeased-
‘Tis those who do not see that will have sight-
But those who shall not be are now deceased!
As Socrates said well, before his death,
‘The life that has a knell, do not prolong,’
If not a bridge, death has no greater wealth-
If ‘tis a ridge to nothing, life’s foregone!
Do not accept the pessimistic view-
‘Tis not adept to changing circumstance!
Afore the reaper reaps, none ever knew-
So live when body sleeps- not die, but dance!
Live not for gleeful cheer that shall be gone-
But search beyond the sphere- what shall live on?
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 17, 2007

153 Man’s Dilemma

The beast and Gentleman ne’er end the strife,
The animal, again, does long for flesh,
Philosopher e’er pines for higher life,
It is not her, but Her, who is the best!
Mankind is close to choosing Perfect Will,
Her golden robes are ever just in sight,
And just as Wisdom’s Truth is closer still,
Mankind, in foolish youth, dismisses light!
To serve, our deepest fear and greatest goal,
Does draw so ever near, and we withdraw,
When Wisdom moves into our deepest soul,
We flee in droves, uncertain- what a flaw!
Full self-control is ever what we yearn,
Yet “freedom’s” goal is e’er to Wisdom spurn!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 13, 2007

152 The Task of Modern Man

A property unknown to many men,
Virility has all but disappeared-
Abandonment of sword and mighty pen-
Has bred the horrid horde the ancients feared.
As he who took the sea* once truly said,
The brutish force is not alone the flaw,
The “milk and water Righteousness” is dead,
And serves a brutish hit to Righteous law!
Alas, that Man does not defend the right!
Alas, he cares for nothing but himself!
He goes from mate to mate- all flesh in sight,
And yet has little time for things of wealth!
I ask the query, “whence have good men gone?”
For now we must return, with Virtue’s song!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 5, 2007

*Theodore Roosevelt

151 The Prayer

Oh Lord of Hosts- I ask too many things!
I wish for most of ev’ry great idea-
I ask for wisdom’s song, it ever sings!
I ask for death of wrong- for Glory dear!
Unveil the horrid mask- that thwarts my quest!
‘Tis this alone I ask- the greatest gold-
I wish to know what goal is ever best-
‘Tis wisdom, though- to know the highest gold!
I pine for her- the answerer sublime!
She is the cure of ignorance and fool-
She’ll tell me what to seek, beyond all time-
For her, I do beseech, the grandest tool!
Yet wisdom on her own is not fulfilled-
Give Righteous will its throne, and ill is killed!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 4, 2007

150 The Will To Live

The woman standing there intoxicates-
The beauty of her hair and features meld,
Her beauteous form, my blazing flame awaits,
My passion’s storm, her lovely body welds.
Yet now I ask- “Am I in love with her?”
My hardest task, to understand myself,
True love is Will for Good to come to her,
It is not understood, this highest wealth.
And yet when I conceive of what I would,
I know I would not grieve upon her death,
For if I lost her to another’s good,
The winter’s frost would make me loathe her breath.
This will to live- a wish to her possess,
No worth does give, save wisdom in its death.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 4, 2007

149 The Gift of Poetry

The writing I perfect is not my own,
A gift, it was, from Heaven’s Holy gate,
A geist of Holiness in it is shown,
As is a gem, for which I cannot wait!
For poetry, a vision quite sublime,
Is nothing when compared with what’s to come,
When silent bell doth ring at end of time,
A glory, all shall see, excels the sun!
And thus the greatest gift is given me-
I am a chosen prophet of the light,
I am the herald of the majesty-
Through all the beauty which I have to write!
Although the words I speak are not my own,
My spirits medium yields joy unknown!
© Jerusalemrising
Written February 27, 2007

148 The Nature of Man

Oh mind, thou art a bastion for the truth,
O soul, thou art the metaphysic geist-
The corpse, not perfect, even in the youth,
Does ever wish, of virtue such, the heist!
The body knows it holdeth little gold,
A beauty, yes, but only to the eye,
And time destroys the beauty of the old,
The curse of man is ever that we die.
The mind and soul may yet be quite pristine-
And yet, when unfulfilled they are a void,
Their beauty lies in golden wisdom’s gleam,
On Earth their treasure cannot be destroyed!
And thus is man, he is of parts composed-
Philosopher and beast, in him exposed.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 27, 2007

147 The Lost Love

The deepest love in me is that of land,
All other joys indeed, are second best,
The world of Old is where I wish to stand,
Historic gold and iron as my guests.
My ancestry did live on British shores
Across the sea, the balance they maintained-
The peace they did receive through gloried wars
Gave time for one to see that Earth is stained.
To walk through ancient walls, and ponder deep!
True beauty ever calls where kings have strode-
Though beauty fades, the memories ne’er sleep,
The ended age is music to the soul.
Europa sweet, now naught but memory-
I ask to greet me in eternity!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 20, 2007

146 Joy

Some say to eat and drink, and to be gay-
And yet I ever think of the divine,
That truth which passes, in a mocking way,
The “happy” masses in their mocking shrine!
The gaiety that comes in mocking form
Is misery when pondered deeply, lo-
If to their “happiness” one does conform,
He finds an emptiness bereft of soul!
Yet if he does diverge to seek the truth,
His spirit will emerge to self-destroy-
This gaiety is known to ag’d as “youth”-
Sobriety fulfilled is drunken joy.
And so I say to ponder deep, enjoy-
The disarray of sloth’s deceitful ploy!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 19, 2007

145 The Childish Wisdom

The simple beauty flies across the breeze-
The yearning child tries to understand,
His searching soul is ever unappeased-
For insight whole comes not upon demand.
The child asks the questions without end,
The greatest task is his to undertake-
He longs, the universe to comprehend,
And knows what is a curse, mind unawake.
The modern man awaits his learning whole-
He banks upon the fates to understand,
“Experience,” not wisdom, is his goal-
To dance the dance, and not find greater land.
Thus children know to seek the greater goal,
While elder souls have lost the seeking soul.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 18, 2007

144 The Scourge of Time

A silent night digresses into dark,
The evening light portrays a shallow mist,
My ever-searching soul does now depart,
My longing to be whole is now dismissed.
I hear in darkened wood a quiet sound-
The ancient voices good entrance the soul,
They tell a tale of ancient time renowned,
And free a wail for desp’rate worldly woe!
The majesty of ancient songs agone,
The tapestry of man is incomplete.
Not only have we lost the early dawn,
But dusk of man, his last, we’ll never meet.
Alas the scourge of time attacks the soul-
A wish for deeper rhyme to yield the whole!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 12, 2007

143 The Golden Death

Men cannot see the worth of many things,
Through misery he learns his discipline,
Injustice brings his will to conquer kings,
The Golden Death does kill to make divine!
For ever-lasting life on Earth is dull,
The ever-present strife sets each apart,
For no two men do share a life in full,
The time you spend is your eternal art.
What death imparts is human social worth,
When each departs, a part of Man is lost,
Thus Man must spread himself upon the Earth,
To share his single wealth a’fore ‘tis lost.
The individual is only great,
If death is in its full his sure escape.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 12, 2007

142 The Timely Death

Old Nietzche wrote upon the timely death,
His prophet spoke of those who die too young-
Yet some so very late, draw final breath,
Their souls too long did wait to sing the song!
The young do focus deep upon the Earth,
They haven’t time to weep their broken song-
Yet soon they know full well the depth of worth,
Yet never show, for they are “far too young.”
In hand and hand the virtue comes with vice-
True knowledge grand does walk with love of Earth,
For just as one may learn the best advice,
His soul begins to yearn to flee from worth.
The link with Earth grows hard and taut with age-
Comes fear with final card, not wisest sage.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 7, 2007

141 Power

The king who reigns atop his golden throne
The sun that wanes is not beneath his hand
Though people may obey his ev’ry tone,
His orders go astray lorn* self command.
What task may be performed, without control?
A grand Construction’s formed from single mind-
True righteousness is gained from focus whole,
And true success is earned through will refined.
The human soul is made of dual song
Flawed instinct’s goal is ever unappeased,
No man has any might, save will is strong,
He must the instinct smite to gain his peace.
And thus the only Man to reign complete
Is he who once began to self defeat.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 5, 2007

*without

140 The Pain of Life

Old Nietzsche wrote of those who preach the death-
He ever spoke to show their foolishness,
Yet also did he speak of higher breath,
And greater life first seeks a death of less.
The preachers well convey the pain of life,
For each and ev’ry day the battles wage,
‘Tis in a man, or out that reigns the strife,
He cannot stand for loss or creeping age.
But Nietzsche spoke of newer men to come-
A life unbroke by strife and painful hue.
And yet we must transcend our present home
Our horrid lives must end, to live anew.
The soul can be reborn to newer life,
Yet first it must be torn to rip the strife.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 31, 2007

139 Solitude

Emotion thwarts the student in his work,
Distraction steals away his ev’ry thought,
He gains in wretched sloth, to duty shirk,
And knows but never does the thing he ought.
No peace is found in such a mindless state,
And thus the student must devote his mind,
Yet ev’ry weak attempt does seem a waste,
When ev’ry focus fails, his will maligned.
And thus he seeks to truly be alone,
Where no distraction may corrupt his read,
Yet solitude on Earth cannot be known,
No man from sly distraction can be freed.
The man who tires of this great disease,
Will give his cares to God upon his knees.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 29, 2007

138 Upon the Nature of Good and Evil

The skeptics say there is no good and bad,
Their broken way has taught them not to think,
For ev’ry action’s right or wrong, my lad,
These things your very might can never sink.
‘Tis very hard to tell of right and wrong-
Yet spirit knows full well the very things,
It says you ought to sing a certain song-
And is distraught when wrongful spirit sings.
If seen aright, perversion is the wrong-
The evil blight still seeks for something good-
The murderer may kill for justice’ song,
The theif’s down-battered will just longs for food.
The Evil search for good in wrongful ways,
So act the way you should, for virtue’s praise.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 28, 2007

137 The Lovers of Nature

The lovers of the Earth are seen as wise.
Their reputations fly on winged birds.
The common-folk do see from crooked eyes
The vision that these prophets spoke in words.
The common man sees them as full complete,
He reads of them, and speaks of “wiser” ways,
He never questions elevated seat,
Imagination easily betrays.
For ev’ry poet longs for something more-
He never finds the answer which he seeks,
The nature lovers did not find the core,
They see the other man upon the peaks.
The fullest wisdom lies behind the Earth-
Look there, not here, to find the fullest worth.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 28, 2007

136 The Peace of Earth

The peace of Earth is not a peace at all,
No thing of worth will lead to direst shame,
Yet unrestricted love will take its fall,
And selfish careless shove will lose its aim.
The method of the Earth is to defeat,
To hoard all things of worth unto yourself,
Such selfish greed, at souls does ever eat,
The horrid seed of all perverted wealth.
The body’s love is not a full design,
For selfless love is such a thing’s intent.
Ambition for the self will self malign,
No greatest living wealth on self is bent.
To find a peace divine, look not to here,
The heart-desires shine beyond the sphere.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 24, 2007

135 The Greatest Force

It lies ahead- there is the greatest force,
The soul is dead, corrupted at its core,
Our fullest selves emerge through self-divorce,
From Nature we diverge to something more.
Through centuries of change, grand Nature’s grown,
Yet changes of the age are greater still,
The mother’s work is man, by him she’s known,
Her greatest perk exhausted, man’s her fill.
Yet still the cry of “instinct” can be heard,
The foulest lie is that our lust is right.
From gluttons fattened bone, control is learned,
Perfection though, alone- will end the blight!
As man o’er Nature rules, he shall transcend
Yet God does hold the tools, our selves to end.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 18, 2007

134 Upon the Subject

The man who looks upon the world he sees,
The rotting books, the sun and leaves and grass,
The man whose soul is one with balmy breeze,
Will love the yellow sun, and will not last.
It is by all agreed this world will fall,
The atheists concede the sun’s collapse,
The end of time is told by one and all,
To every rhyme there comes a final lapse.
The question lies, why write of dying Earth?
Romantic eyes see not what lies above.
Must not the seeker see a thing of worth,
To tell its majesty, and light thereof?
The short, temporal life will soon depart,
Its song, upon the fife will leave the heart.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 16, 2007

133 The Second Temporal Enigma

The flaws of man are numerous indeed,
Since time began, he does lament his wrong,
And yet he looses more in such a deed,
His short temporal store will soon be gone.
The self is not the same from time to time
Now lion strong, now lame, time takes its toll,
Each moment lost does hold a part of him,
'Tis living's cost, a limit on the soul.
Yet man's a fool, he cannot know the whole,
So time's a tool, to teach his empty mind,
The past illuminates his seeking soul,
As nearing death degrades his growing find.
Is time an evil curse, a theif of wealth,
Is ignorance not worse than death itself?
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written on January 14, 2007

132 Morality

The skepticists hold “right” to be a taste,
The “moralists” are far too strict indeed,
And yet when they are wronged, this view they waste,
No matter how prolonged, it must recede.
For theft and murder’s blight, are not a taste,
No man would call them right in his right mind,
“Morality” must not then be a waste,
Reality declares the skeptic blind.
All times diverge to some quite vast extent,
New tastes emerge, and change affects the faith,
Yet all, in truth, converge to one consent,
And all religions merge, this truth portray.
In Egypt, Greece, or Rome, or even here,
The Right and Wrong are home to men sincere.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 4, 2007

131 Corruption

The wise of time agone did well devise,
Their method, greatly strong, was well conceived,
Yet as the rest, which ever slowly dies,
It failed the test, and men no more believed.
An order new is now the question heard,
The thinkers brew another system strong,
To think that it will stand is yet absurd,
The one afore was grand, and it went wrong.
Mankind asserts the flaw to their design,
The breaking of the jaw, to bone itself,
They never ask what agent did malign,
But simply cast a stronger living wealth.
Corruption deals its mighty blow severe,
For order’s steel, mankind must be austere.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 2, 2007

130 The Source

A man cannot describe the right and wrong.
The method he contrives is full amiss,
To show the form through what in it belongs
Cannot inform, and leads to great distress.
Alas a gift does then present itself-
None is adrift from what these forms contain,
Thus man is not compelled to share the wealth,
As it’s through all dispelled, none need attain.
Yet if mankind’s aware of good and bad,
The virtues he does share must not be his,
But those of one beyond his knowing clan,
They are the son of what mankind consists.
A puzzle then, the link of all mankind,
Excels the ken, its finder shall be wise.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 2, 2007

129 Progress

The ages pass, and men grow slowly old,
Time moving fast, a merciless command,
And now the people ask if time is gold,
If it performs a task so truly grand.
The man who knows disdain does answer no,
In time before the pain he once was glad,
Now sadness reigns, his heart is ever cold,
He knows the pains he once had never had.
The happy man does answer loudly yes,
He now does stand atop the golden stair,
He does remember well his old distress,
And will quite gladly tell of dead despair.
Yet neither speaker knows full well the truth,
For as emotion grows, it blinds the sleuth.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written January 1, 2007