Poem 7

By:  Mr. Y / Dr. Squirrel


The pounding heart it beats alone,

Inside the prison of thick white stone,

Outside the walls it’s barely heard,

Caged inside like a king’s song bird.


Can you hear it, one and two?

Can you hear it pounding through?

Rain and shine and night and day,

No rest for you, just pound away.


One cross word would make it weep,

Like a dagger plunged in deep,

Blood pours down like tears are wept,

Out of this safe were life is kept.


Can you hear it, three and four?

The blood it crashes like the ocean’s roar,

In vain it bears the taunts and blows,

Always it seems in death’s last throes.


One sin seen would make it scream,

From the pain and hurt of this hellish dream,

Gasping out with every beat,

It begs for safety, oh so sweet!


Can you hear it, five and six?

Like a fetus so softly kicks,

What happened to its bold bold beats?

Why is it drifting off to sleep?


One day you wake and inside you’re dead,

The heart it beats but it feels like lead,

You call it’s name, you say ‘It’s me,’

But noone’s home, its spirit’s gone free.


Can you hear it, seven and eight?

Nothing but its shell remains,


Can you hear it, nine and ten?

Rest in peace. Amen, amen.

Poem 6

By: Mr. Y


It’s like the willow’s arching shade,
Against the gaze of a furious sun
It’s like the fort that opens its gates,
And makes your enemies turn and run

It’s like the hand that asks for yours,
To save you from a raging sea
It’s like the voice that calms your soul,
That rocks you gently off to sleep

It’s like the breeze that returns the rain,
To a forsaken land that pines with thirst
It’s like the angel’s upraised sword,
Standing with you against every curse

It’s where every man will find relief,
From the trials that cause his troubled cries
It’s the sanctuary that he seeks,
That’s built into his daughter’s eyes.

Poem 5

Once upon a time ago when men would sail the seas on boats,
Far beyond the sparkling coasts,
Beyond the safety of peaceful homes,
Beyond the sanctity of green mosque domes,
Beyond the reach of lighthouse lights,
Beyond the kings’ divine given rights,
Where nothing is seen but the dark blue deep,
Where men have drowned into eternal sleep,
A group of men had gathered round,
Aboard a ship both sturdy and sound,

Their ears were strained to catch every note,
Every word, every sound that the air could bear to float,
The captain had stood amongst his tired men,
His voice streamed from his heart like a wail from a lion’s den,
“My brothers!” he wailed, he yelled, and he cried,
His voice shook so they could hear the tears in his eyes,
“Ten years ago we left our mothers’ land,
Ten years ago we left a merry band,
Of young men and old assigned a noble task,
To seek a sacred treasure and to bring it straight back,
What was this coveted prize which our people so desired?
Was it gold, was it silver, was it the sacred Greek fire?
My brothers, you all know, it was none of these foolish things,
That is not from where their desires truly spring

No, my dear friends, what they desire is the truth,
Of what is right and what is wrong, what is the proper route,
To live a noble life that’s purged of wicked and evil ways,
To live a life that’s free of everything that brings us shame,
‘Don’t come back until it’s found,’ Our wives did command,
We’ve kept our oath for ten long years but now here I stand,

There comes a time in every quest when one must surely ask,
Are we chasing something real or dancing ghosts in masks?
Is the sacred treasure truly out there to be found?
Perhaps our noble mission has finally run aground,

I tell you In these travels of ours, I have seen several signs,
With my own two eyes, and from these I do opine,
I tell you my friends that our journey is surely over,
I know it is a shock to hear this news so very sober,
But I ask you to consider what I am about to say,
The signs we have witnessed from these many past days,

I say my dear friends:
When not a child can be found, the light of our souls,
Whose innocence and purity has not been duly sold,
Where once there lay a precious heart, guarded, free from sin,
Their guardians have sold their swords and turned their back on them,
Where once there lay a child’s soul, free from vulgar wants,
Their guardians look away while vulgar men do taunt

When the value of a woman is through if her legs are shaved,
Not through how many forgotten souls she sacrificed to save,
From evils and wicked deeds which surely are depraved,
When shame has fled the hearts of men who seek to defile,
The soul of a noble woman who is another man’s child
Do you not see comrades, how men look at their wives?
Nary a glint of respect is found, only lust in their eyes,

When the women of the world decide the value of a man,
Not on if his soul is sparkling clean, but on what is in his pants,
When a husband or a wife decide to sever their joining thread,
Judging not on nobleness, but how they perform in bed,
When happiness replaces morality as the end of human life,
When anxiety over sex and fame replace moral strife,

When men can commit the most heinous deeds, then stand before the world,
Demanding recognition in front of cameras and flags unfurled,

There comes a time in every quest when one must surely ask,
Are we chasing something real or dancing ghosts in masks?
The signs I’ve seen leave us no choice, the answer is quite clear,
This sacred treasure of the legends never was, I fear,
Dancing rabbits, psychic abbots, and dragons made of gold,
Surely are more real than these ancient tales of old,

It’s time for us to burn our ships, our flags and parchment maps,
These valiant sails which fought the winds can finally rest at last,
Our dear friends, our dear wives, our dear little daughters,
You sent us out to fight the fight, but it ended up in slaughter,
Please forgive our failure, our hope is nearly gone,
The sun has finally set in heaven, now it’s hell’s dawn.

Working on Novel

By: Mr. Y

Greetings everyone:

To anyone reading this post, there haven’t been many updates in a while now. I’m actually working on a novel, and the first draft won’t be done for several months probably, so I haven’t been writing many poems lately. But I still plan on writing some poems, and I’ll post them as I finish them.

158. Islamocapitalism.

Poem 4

By: Mr. Y


I wrote a new poem. It’s kind of short, but here it is. I’ll have another poem maybe this week sometime if I get done with it.

A baby boy was born in the middle of June,
A call went out to bring forth a silver spoon,
A lump of sugar was placed in its head,
And put in his mouth til time would end

The baby grew and soon he was a boy,
The sugar was gone but life was to enjoy,
That silver glint was still stuck in his mouth,
Wherever he went, to the north, to the south

A few more years and soon he was a man,
Everything he would do to make his desires fan,
Into a raging fire that would make him thirst after,
Every pleasure and delight that the world could ever offer

Then one day he awoke and he felt a bitter taste,
A feeling he’d never felt of disgust and of shame,
Out he went again to shed this inner call,
But he did not succeed, he could only cry and fall

The bitter taste was still there, so for the very first time,
He took his hand and gripped that silver shine,
Wrenching it out from his very mouth’s bed,
To find no more silver left, just a core of lead

By: Mr. Y


I wrote a short essay at one of my friend’s blog. I copied part of it here. Follow the link to read the whole thing.


In his book Anarchy, State, and Utopia, Robert Nozick lists two types of moral rules: utilitarian rules and side constraints. Utilitarian rules are basically end goals that a person or society must reach. For example, there may be a moral rule which says that society must achieve the greatest amount of good possible. In this system, rules and institutions are implemented which lead to this end, which is seen as the moral goal to aim for. The other type of moral rules are side constraints, which are not concerned with the end goal of their implementation, but rather those actions themselves. For example, a side constraint may be ‘do not murder’. This would be a side constraint moral rule if you implement that not looking at what would be the consequences of not murdering people. Murder would be considered bad, whatever the consequences may follow, even if murder increased the happiness and prosperity of a nation or group of people.

My question is, which of these two types of moral rules are correct. As in, are there intrinsic flaws or inconsistencies in one of these lines of thinking? I would contend that the utilitarian line of thinking does.
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