The Merit of Communist Poetry and of the Prophecy of The Republic Given to the Virginian General by the Virgin Mary

8/23/2024

What’s the use of knowing so many things

Knowing you can’t change anything?

Sometimes, I have to wonder why in heaven I decided to try my hand at poetry. I take one look at my bookshelf and—yes, there it is. Ninety-nine percent of the literature I own is prose while out of everything I ever bought the only poetry was just Poe and not because I particularly enjoyed his verses, no, but because him being a good poet was something I was told.

See, this past month I was trying my hand to get some of this work publish, these middling verses. I had it in my head that if artists like Kaur could get published, what with famous works like:

things i wish i could tell the younger me
masturbation
is meditation.

I couldn’t help but feel like throwing a few verses of my own art on the market. Nonetheless, though my spirit’s still in it, I will confess that whatever idealism I held about the art of poetry has fallen through to the pits of Hell, burnt gone and forever. What I saw on Harvard Review … though I’ve walked out of the movie as a kid, as an adult I live by that quote from Ratatouille, “The world’s worst piece of art will always be greater than the world’s best criticism,” and in regard to the poetry published by Harvard I appreciate it. It’s just that if my ever-losing party wanted to know when Communists infiltrated our institutions they should have taken a look at the poetry bloc. Yeah, Harvard poetry’s trash, but it’s created trash with purpose towards lifting what Communists define as disenfranchised folks. Therefore, as trash, I must commend the enemy for creating trash greater than the gigabytes of conservative criticism I’ve had the unfortunate experience of listening.

The thing about being an artist is, when you’re in the shoes of a creator you kind of get how tough it is to be the Creator. Respect for criticism from people who don’t create gets shuffled away insomuch as a man in the arena may respect the criticism of a man who never entered.

In light of this, I can’t say I’m exactly displeased to hear about Communists taking over. They’ve won, and they’ve won fairly. Did they have white-out back in the day? Whatever.

If there’s one thing I can say about poetry—it should be useful, and modern poetry, I will give to it that it’s useful because it exists. Furthermore, it’s futuristic.

Futurist, this is why conservatives always lose. To look forever into a past which no longer exists, creating nothing new. Who would want to vote for a party that was just yesterday’s Communist? Conservatives always want to conserve, but as a rule they don’t create. There’s no conservative Hollywood, or conservative Broadway, nothing. So I can say with full confidence the reason why old Trump won was because he was willing to create a wall.

Winners don’t conserve, they attack. Like God, the ultimate winner, they destroy and create over what they’ve destroyed. I’m no politician, nor do I ever plan to be, but out of my interest as a Christian I propose the term “conservative” to be abolished from the Christian dictionary because given the choice to conserve an evil people in their evils or absolutely destroy evil for good I would pray that those who call themselves for Christ would take the progressive route.

Even so, as I’ve said before, there’s no use in knowing stuff like this if you’ve no power to make change. People under Him, they aren’t usually asked to speak through violence unless real physical war is declared on them, and even then martyrdom’s the prescribed instruction. Nonetheless, man speaks through his actions more than he does his criticisms. For one, what his money is spent on speaks volumes to his character. Also, how he spends his time.

Take me now, little Dismas. I’m writing this to keep my sanity. When one’s without work, the routine keeps my sanity. My character … there are traitorous thoughts where I sometimes wonder how happy I’d be if my country collapsed around me, yet in spite of these imagined punishments deserved or undeserved I recall other memories too where the people who know nothing of all of evil and good have in a manner a kind of good that makes me realize how just it’d be if my own head were struck instead.

One who plays creator, writers of plays, writers of verses, they’ll claim to know how to separate fiction from reality, but the truth is that such people in their soul have a will to write—RIGHT the world around them. Growing up, when gifted kids programs were all the rage in President Obama’s administration, schools scouted children for intelligence by having them link analogies … whatever the term was called about finding links in one set of words to another:

Milk, Black, White, Pregnant à Cow – Pig – Man – Woman

Something like this, where you’d have to circle the correct association. In this case, it’d be cow, but I guess tests like this still worked as a filter because some kids would choose woman. In any case, it’s no coincidence that write has the same pronunciation as right.

Write à Right

To write is to right. In the case of writers writing’s their method of righting the world. In part, this is why Communist art and literature is so powerful. When one with futurist thoughts decides to write his verse and prose he actually commits to an act of righting in the world for better or worse.

Spell à Spell

Another analogy. Dost the reader believe in magic? Dost the reader believe in spells? It doesn’t matter if you believe. To spell is to spell. Spelling spells, and that’s all writing is. It’s to write a spell, a spell which rights.

I may well right something right now. In the beginning we had a President worthy to be king. Never mind he could have no child, a cousin could follow, but we had a President of noble house elected by a committee of radicals who with popular support managed to overturn a tyrannical king whose worse crime really was heavy taxes and sending soldiers to arrest people who were starting to become openly rebellious. Even so, whether this man’s war was wanted or not, he did the best with the cards he got, and happened to create one of the greatest republics in recent memory, one which on all accounts was most reminiscent of Rome. Like the ancient empire, born was the Union from the rule of a king whose powers landed in the hands of a republic ruled by a senate of patricians. The question, perhaps, on a few radicals heads … Who will be Emperor at this republic’s end?

Now, this isn’t a vision recorded by the Catholic Church, but it is one recorded in the Libraries of Congress. The Virginian General, back when he and his men were camped starving and freezing at Valley Forge; it was said that the General in his despair took a walk off to the woods where he could speak, pray alone with God. But it was there between dead trees and darkened snow that the General whilst preparing a dispatch in his tent far from camp lifted his eyes to see the form of a beautiful woman. She was dressed in dazzling robes, a white garment which covered her from head to toe. It was the Mother of God, Maria the Virgin, who from Heaven she had come to reveal to the ailing General, no doubt purposeless and lost from the cost of war sapping out all revolutionary idealism, three visions of his people’s future. The first, the General saw the current conflict, most importantly its end where the Americans tore off the yoke of their kind. The second, the General saw a later war split between brothers, split between north and south, with its end resulting in the UNION inheriting all the land. The third vision, the General saw the whole world united in war against a country still yet to exist, his. This last vision showed him the UNION’s greatest calamity it would ever face. It showed him also the victory his people would have over all the world.

The General wasn’t Catholic. In fact, as part of that traitorous sect, the Anglicans, he was oathbound to detest Catholicism in all its forms, never to convert at best and at worst to be an active enemy to Catholics. Nonetheless, the Blessed Mother descended to the tent where he prayed to reignite his heart’s dying flame, to tell him that his cause was in fact just, that the blood spilt between cousins and brothers (for anyone at the time would know that the war for independence was civil) would not be in vain. God would make use of the republic born from broken oaths to a Christian king. What’s more, after these visions ceased, the Blessed Mother herself insisted thus:

“While the stars remain and the heavens send down dew upon the Earth, so long will the Republic last!”

This Republic which the Blessed Mother spoke of to the General is my home. Over one particular summer, this one, I entertained in my delirium the idea of praying for a king, an emperor, to usurp this Republic’s thrones. Yet, I’ve remembered this account, and for my sanity, I right to come back to myself as who I truly am. And I will confess the true reasons for why a Son of the Republic would think to betray the Republic for the imaginations of a king. He wanted to remove responsibility from himself and pin it on a king.

See, it’s difficult to blame—no, it’s easy to blame everything but one’s own self for the madness of one’s soul. Government, pretty cashiers, fretful parents—it just so happens that it’s easiest to blame a single person who by the will of God should have absolute control over the dominion he rules, the dominion you live in. Not paying your bills on time? Blame the king. High taxes? Blame the king. Rude waiting staff, date’s a no show, an ugly cut and car? It’s the king’s fault.

In the Republic, it’s much too difficult to blame the President who has no control over whatever the last or next President does compared to a king who should have all control in what happens in his realm from the richest man to the slimiest rat choking on a toothpick. The king’s blessed by God right, so he may be blamed as God. But in a Republic, where leaders are chosen based off the people’s whim, there’s no one I could reasonably blame.

Can I blame the people? Maybe, if I were an idiot, which I am. Since God isn’t nearly as involved in the coronation of a President as He is with a king, there’s no way a reasonable person could ever blame a people with their multitude of wavering virtues and sins to pick a leader to lead them well. Whatever the new man promises, the weight can only be on his shoulders, not theirs, and though the Sons of the Republic may vote, they may always repent in how they’ve cast their vote which they often do.

Knowing now of the fortune I have to be born in the Republic which may possibly last till the end of the age, I say now with certitude that the greatest virtue of the Republic is in fact that the people can share in the responsibility, the burdens which a king may hold. If a king does right or wrong he gets all the credit, but when a President chosen by his people in the Republic do right or wrong, the people may have the credit for both the wrong and most importantly the right.

I like to believe that if the Virgin Mary really did appear to Washington that day in Valley Forge, the reason why this Republic, the United States of America, should last to the end of the age with a continued line of Presidents to right into the Apocalypse is that the Republic illustrates what it truly means to have a free will.

Under God, everyone has it, but systems like Monarchy obscure will the most. A soldier drafted to the front by a King may risk his soul by defaulting to the trope that he was simply “following orders.” Unfortunately, this won’t hold in heaven’s court—or maybe it will. I can’t be certain. It just happens that it’s this lack of certainty in Monarchy about the responsibility one’s soul towards its acts that makes Monarchy inferior to a Republic, if only in this aspect.

A Son of the Republic before God may honestly say, “Yes Lord, I voted for this war.” He may otherwise say without bearing false witness, “Yes Lord, I didn’t vote for this war but I still fought to my regret. May I still be forgiven.” Never mind the multitude of other sins a soul may be judged for outside of voting, a Son of the Monarchy can’t say that which a Son of the Republic may say with certainty—that with the inalienable rights given to all men at birth they chose to make an act for God or against. With a vote, a Son of the Republic may always cast his intentions before God. A Son of the Monarchy doesn’t have this same privilege. His conscience is irrelevant, and he will either be stuck with a righteous or unrighteous kind in his lifetime with only God to consider how his soul acted in conformity with what he could not change.

In light of this, as the Republic’s son, responsibility for my own actions is all I’ve ever known and will ever know apparently. I can’t blame a king, or a President who I didn’t vote for, or a President who didn’t get voted who I could’ve campaigned more for. God knows, us Republicans—and I don’t mean this in the party sense—only have ourselves to blame. In the end, that’s the right of it. Whether a soul chooses Heaven or Hell, whether a son of oligarchies, anarchies, or tyrannies, it will only have itself to blame for choosing what it chose. This truth to the joy or despair of souls living within it is most self-evident in republics, especially republics where man, between men and women or otherwise even to their children and babes, may cast a vote for their destiny outside of common sense.

To allow all people to vote on policy is not a good form of government by any sense, especially not heavens for whom the King’s will always happens for the good of all, but it is a perfect means of illustrating truth.

Every soul has a choice for which only they themselves can blame. Between Heaven or Hell, every day they have their say. Sometimes a majority of souls choose Heaven. It sometimes happens that a majority of souls choose Hell. But whatever other souls choose, there can be no greater care for a soul besides how it itself will choose.

The Republic, my home, only makes obvious what every soul should know. There could but people to blame, but for anything in life, especially heaven or hell, the greatest blame will forever lie on one’s own soul. You can’t say a king told me this or a president told me that. It’s about what how one’s soul responds to what God has given it, this being the ultimate choice between mercy or eternal damnation.

As for me, knowing the Republic’s meant to last till the end of the world takes a lot of weight off my mind. There won’t be any need for any great regime change. No, rather than a king, what I really pray for is a man worthy of being called king … who resigns because he doesn’t want to be a king but a President who sets precedents of Christian virtue. Who comes not to be served but to serve—to serve particularly God so the people may be served.

I mean, it’s a ridiculous thought that a people who are evil may be better served by inclining them towards more evil. That’s a topic for a different day though. Even so, I probably shouldn’t speak about what I’ve already said.