Manifesto of the Repressive Reductionists

That he would take some pre-existing work
And write it different as some poetry
And call that “art”, that notion, we oppose.
In bondage, we detest all those who’re free.

(The foregoing text was signed “Thierry Henriest Charpentier”, dated as of today’s date, hand-written in cursive in green ink on a single sheet of A4 paper, folded in half, and hand-delivered without an envelope by the Constable in the manner of a process server, with no request for verification of identity.)

Psalm 150

O praise the LORD, his sanctuary, there,
praise God, the mighty heavens, that is where.
Praise him for acts of power, how he’s great,
surpassing all, this manner, give him praise:
with trumpet’s sounding, with the harp and lyre,
with timbrel, dancing, also strings and pipes.
Praise him with clash of cymbals, that again,
if it has breath, now praise him, everything!

O praise the LORD, our praises without end!

Psalm 138

I’ll praise you, LORD, with all my heart; before
those other “gods” I’ll sing your praise. Toward
your holy temple, I’ll bow down and praise,
for both your faithfulness and love, your name,
for you have so exalted your decree,
that solemn one, surpasses all your fame.
When I called out, to my cries, answering,
your answer greatly has emboldened me.
May all the kings of earth give you their praise,
O LORD, when they hear those decrees you state.
May they sing of the LORD’s ways, for it’s great,
the glory of the LORD. Exalted, he,
the LORD, but ne’ertheless, he kindly sees,
looks on the lowly; though he lofty, sits,
he sees them from afar. Though in the midst
of trouble that is where I walk, my life,
what you preserve. Your outstretched hand will strive
against the anger of my foes; with your
right hand you save me. Vindicate for sure,
the LORD will, me; your love endures fore’er,
LORD, don’t abandon works your hands have paired.

Psalm 133

How good and pleasant when the people trod
in unity together, those of God!

Like precious oil poured out upon the head,
that’s running down the beard, down Aaron’s beard,
it’s running down the collar of his robe.
As if the dew of Hermon, hoary snow,
were falling on Mount Zion. There bestowed,
the LORD, his blessings, life forevermore.

Psalm 120

I call upon the LORD in my distress,
and always, in that place, he answers me.
From lying lips, LORD, save me, and their tongues
deceitful words, about me, what they speak.

What will he do to you, what more besides,
O you deceitful tongue, the consequence?
With arrows, sharp, the warrior’s, rain on you,
the broom bush, burning coals, as punishment.

I dwell in Meshek, now is woe to me,
that where I live, amongst their tents, Kedar’s!
Too long ‘mongst ones who’re hating peace, which I
am for, but when I speak, they are for war.

Psalm 117

O praise the LORD, you nations, all of you;
extolling him, you peoples, all, anew.
For great, his love, that he directs towards us,
the LORD’s endures fore’er, his faithfulness.
O praise the LORD, our “Hallelujahs” thus!

Barn Swallows

This evening, now, this scene I just observed.
At first, my tender nature was disturbed.
On my back porch two birds before I’d seen
were roosting where their nest, last year, had been.
I saw it that first summer I was here.
Their prior residence I long revered.
Was quarter-spherical and made of mud.
Their home, I know, with sweat and tears and blood.
But at the first when on the patio
some menacing displays that these birds showed.
They divebomb flying, close to me, so low.
My presence sensed, a threat, so they attack.
The only thing to do if I’d fight back.
Still strafing me, their menacing displays.
My presence they would never tolerate.
Not mere annoyance, I’d retaliate:
I want to help them better propagate.
Their paranoia I observed last year.
Like all birds, push their brood from out their lair.
Too early pushed their chicks who couldn’t fly.
Their broken bodies on my porch to die.
I hoped that if their nest I would destroy
their building efforts elsewhere could employ.
A changed location, safety paramount,
their full-developed chicks, the skies could mount!
But now these swallows only mourn their plight.
Refuse to light a candle, curse the night.
The facts remembered, all this narrative,
avoid misguided guilt, imperative.
Emotions processed through my poetry.
I bare my soul and all the world would see.
I read somewhere of migratory birds:
disturb their nests, a felony incurred!!

Psalm 139, An Expressive Transliteration

You’ve searched me, LORD, you know me most precise.
You know when I sit down and when I rise;
my thoughts, from far away, by you, observed.
My lying down and going out, discerned;
you are familiar with all my turns.
Before a word is on my tongue, you, LORD,
know it completely. Both behind, before,
you hem me in and lay your hand on me.
The wonder of such knowledge, me, exceeds,
too lofty for me to attain myself.

Where can I go from where your Spirit dwells?
Where can I flee from where your presence is?
If I to heaven, there, you still exist;
I make my bed, the depths, you too are there.
Upon its wings, the dawn’s, and fly through air,
if settled on the far side of the sea,
e’en there your hand, my path, guides certainly,
your right hand will for certain hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely darkness ‘round me wraps,
and light is like the night all ‘round my place,”
e’en darkness not as dark before your face;
like day, night shines, for darkness, light to you.

For you created me, with life imbued;
together knit me in my mother’s womb.
I praise you for ‘twas fearful, wonderful,
the way you made my life; I know that well,
they’re wonderful, your works. Was not concealed
from you, my frame, when in that secret place,
down in the earth, its depths, when I was made,
was wove together; what your eyes there saw:
my unformed body; in your book as law,
the days ordained for me before they came.
Your thoughts, O God, each day leave me amazed!
How vast the sum of them, were I to count!
Outnumber grains of sand on seashore’s ground—
when I awake, I still, with you, remain.

If only you, O God, the wicked slay!
All you bloodthirsty ones, from me, away!
They speak of you with evil, their intent;
your adversaries do it violence,
your name. Don’t I hate those who’re hating you,
O LORD, abhor those whom your rule eschew,
rebel against you? For them, what I feel
is hatred, counting them my enemies.
Search me, O God, and know my heart that beats;
test me and know my thoughts made anxiously.
See if offensive ways I have in me,
and in the everlasting way, me, lead.

Psalm 121, An Expressive Transliteration

Up to the mountain top, I lift my eyes.
The place from which my help would emanate?
My help comes from the LORD, who made the skies.
Both earth and heaven, they are what he made.

Your foot allow to slip? He never will.
He watches over you and never sleeps.
The same who watches over Israel.
No slumb’ring, sleeping, watches that he keeps.

The LORD keeps safe from harm, your life preserve.
Your life is what he constant watches o’er.
Your coming, going, what the LORD observes
both at the present and forevermore.

Psalm 55, An Expressive Transliteration

For the director, musical; with strings.
A maskil wrote by David that he brings.

Please listen to my prayer, O God, do not
ignore my plea; please hear and answer me.
My thoughts, great trouble to me, I’m distraught
because of what he says, my enemy,
because of all the wicked and their threats;
for they bring down great suffering on me,
their anger, their assailings, they beget.

My heart within is anguish unto me;
fell on me, terrors, death’s, most weightily.
Fear, trembling, both of them, have me, beset;
o’erwhelmed me, horror. Said, “if I could get
wings of a dove, I’d fly away and rest.
I’d flee and in the desert I would stay;
I’d hurry to my solace, shelt’ring place,
far from the tempest and the stormy wastes.”

The wicked, LORD, confuse, confound their words,
for I see violence, and strife ‘gainst men
within the city. Daily, prowling herds,
about its walls; there’s malice, harm within.
Destructive forces, in the city, work;
both lies and threats, the streets, they don’t dessert.

If ‘twere an enemy insulting me
I could endure; a foe against, I’d flee.
I’d hide, but it is you, just like myself,
a man and my companion, friend, known, well-.
with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship —
at God’s house, where we walked ‘mongst worshipers.

May death be something of a dark surprise
to all my enemies; go down alive
into death’s realm, for, with them, evil lives.

For me, I call to God; the LORD saves me.
I cry out in distress, morn, noon, and eve,
he hears my voice and rescues me unharmed
from battles waged ‘gainst me, though not alarmed;
they may oppose me, many. God, enthroned,
he’ll hear them, he’s not changing from of old,
he’ll humble them; they have no fear of God.

Companion, mine, attacking all his friends;
he violates his sacred covenant.
His talk is smooth as butter but within
his heart, there’s war; his words more soothing than
sweet oil, yet razors, swords are all of them.

Your cares upon the LORD where you should cast
and he’ll sustain you; never in the past,
the righteous, shaken, God, he won’t allow.
The wicked to the pit, you will bring down.
Bloodthirsty ones, deceit in all their ways
will never live out half their normal days.

But as for me, I trust you LORD, always.