The Artist

The Artist and his Luckless Wife
They lead a horrid haunted life,
Surrounded by the things he's made
That are not wanted by the trade.

The world is very fair to see;
The Artist will not let it be;
He fiddles with the works of God,
And makes them look uncommon odd.

The Artist is an awful man,
He does not do the things he can;
He does the things he cannot do,
And we attend the private view.

The Artist uses honest paint
To represent things as they ain't,
He then asks money for the time
It took to perpetrate the crime.

By Sir Walter Raleigh


An Informal Proof on Beauty

Beauty = Complexity
Complexity does not always equal beauty.

- What must be added to complexity to achieve beauty is a sensual order; the ordered complexity reaches the ear and the sounds alone must be pleasing.

Beauty does not equal Content.

-If beauty in art was the mere content we lose objectivity and adopt relativity unknowingly. In this scenario we must regard scribblings on paper interpreted as King David equal in beauty to that of the statue of David.

-The content of art is only what we attempt to communicate, and it is up to us as artisans to make it beautiful.

-As Demetrius says in his "On Style": It is possible to rob a subject of its dignity.

Beauty does not equal "evocation of emotion".

-We run into the same problem as we did with content, since emotion is brought on by the content. Emotion is a bye-product of the initial beauty; it is only a bonus.

-If a Christian listens to a theologian talk of God and his systematic he will not weep. But upon hearing a four part harmony choir sing "Eternal Father" they are much more susceptible to their emotions. Why is that? The composer of "Eternal Father" had the correct choice of poetry in the lyrics and the complexity of the music was a apparently beautiful in its own right. They made it devotional so they had something to communicate as a musician and so they may praise God as a Christian.


A Conversation Between God and the "Christian" Soul


Father, I pray that wisdom I may obtain,
To be of good thought, my mind be clear.
Let it be known this request I do not feign,
And so from my god, I hope to soon hear.

Father, I pray you will answer me now!
My faith is weakened to deny your love.
Tho', I'll wait once more to find; and how,
Shall thee prove to me, my thoughts to move.

Oh God! A fool I have blatantly been,
To believe in thy goodness, a folly.
I demand thee no more, singing no hymn,
I know there's no god that's holy.


You wicked soul, have you been so blind?
Why are you deserving my reply?
I see no faith, so leave you behind,
Your many words do not answers buy.

There was only faith to find in thy mind,
Any logician can make this claim.
But heart faith is the necessary kind,
You treated this as a mere game.

To you I say, and hope for answer,
That double mind may be single later.
And My grace to you that I will transfer,
By this you'll know, you're Judas, a traitor.

By Evan Gunn Wilson

The last Tobacco Poem

I wrote this last tobacco poem while drinking coffee. I apologize to anyone I offend.

I'll tug my hair and gnash my teeth, before I get this last poem out,
For lovely muse, you betrayeth me, so tobaccos lost its very shout.

My friends they wag their finger at me, a poem to demand another,
For this is the way of the normative creed, this how they treat a brother.

I do not complain, their request is just; but buckle down I must?
Though this is the only way I see, otherwise my writing would rust.

Get some ideas, have thought and connect tobacco to it all.
Politics, theology, ethics, astrology; speak proudly of Sir Walter Rawl.

Though now I have grown a custom to nothing, putting the practice aside,
How shall I remember to write of anything, as tobacco was the only guide.

So now I wake in the morning, seeing it is now no time for a pipe,
I ponder what shall I take, affecting my day to make the fruit ripe.

A cup of mud water! how could I forget to drink the a.m. strong,
For if it got me writing this poem, how could you consider it wrong?

But, Tobacco I do not speak you ill, and plan to have you replenishing my stock,
Though, finding there is others that stimulate my mind, should not come as a shock.

By Evan Gunn Wilson


Evan Gunn Wilson's Bottom Ten!

This list is dedicated to those inane things in life that I feel antagonist towards. It was made on the spot.

10. Getting the seat belt caught in the door.

9. The inattentiveness to the art of conversation and debate.

8. Corrective nerds; these people take away all the magic left in Star Wars, Lord of the Rings and Star Trek by reminding you of a misconception adopted by society.

7. When people pressure you to try a food and you are fairly certain you will dislike it. Yes, I know you just want to improve the quality of my life but if you could take my no as no that would also improve the quality of my life.

6. Watery ketchup.

5. Making fun of the easily made fun of. Shall we develop a higher brow of humor by skipping over the Justin Beibers of this world? Yes.

4. Assuming that since McDonalds and Taco Bell don't serve actual food, that it tastes bad as well. Get over yourselves.

3. Comments that go , "haha." How am I supposed to interpret that?

2. Pretending you are above arguing politics. You are actually just scared you are wrong.

1. Bulverisms.


He Runs Away . . .Or Does He?

Yes. Yes, he does.

I hereby declare my resignation from the Creed v. Gunn fantastic debate of brilliant poetry and ruthless slanders on the account of my so clearly having lost to a better satirical poet, at least.

And so here's to you Mr. Creed D. Thie,
You're poor benighted student,
But a first class writin' man.

"Gunn, you can't drop out now!", cried the women who have a thing for the bad boy. "Fear not", Gunn said, "For this will surly make Creed's head swell to the point of exploding. Which, of course, would make him dead and I would (lucky for the ladies) remain alive." "Gunn you are brilliant!" exclaimed Angelina Jolie.

Creed overheard this when he was spying on Gunn to obtain material. He shook his fist with his right hand and wrote with his left a haiku (for with his left hand a haiku was all he could manage).

This is a true account.

Anyway, some might say that either, I was holding my own well enough to stay and fight, or it was good fun to see us abuse each other. Though, I have already made a bad decision in starting the fight, for when a poet insults another that insult will end up history text books, and so I will be remembered as that guy from 2010 A.D. who is a rebel monarchist, no matter how incorrect Creed is in saying this. They are the lies of poets. But, regardless, I have had nightmares about this and now it is my reality.

All the while a reminder is needed. We know Creed is the better satirical poet and we have been successful it our encouragements to get Creed to write more often and post on his blog. You insult him, he'll insult you eloquently and painfully. The question is: what is our motive for writing literature and/or poetry? Is it to create beauty in complexity or to smite our opponent with big words and round about classical allusions. I had been desiring to smash Creed's belief's face in the wall and rub dirt in it. I wish I hadn't because I probably would have written better poetry. Shall we abide by the original intent to write? Yes.

And I quote Mr. John Bain: Remember, all smokers are equal whilst smoking.


A Poem for Creed

The Citizen Who Thought He Was King

You may shout of ideal rights,
With police enforcement here to grow.
But have you seen a riot call fights,
They all are heathens who are born so low.
You may say you have solemn thoughts,
Creating a witness thereto fore.
When all the others are casting lots,
Of who next in power you shall abhor.
You are rippin', rollin', rantin' now,
When the masters breached their vow.
By the time your rebellion affects the mind,
A wicked soul you'll regrettably find.

Larger governments will have their poor ways,
Thus ensuing a loss of wits
But is this reason enough to say,
Licensed tantrums and kicking fits.
"The vow! The vow!", you'll cry and moan,
"Their justice shall be served!"
Though justice applies to you alone,
Your sentence made unnerved.
You are cringing, crying, crowing now,
As the masters amended the vow.
While I lay low and enjoy the attack,
Content with the smarts my leaders do lack.

By Evan Gunn Wilson



To War -

Promotion of Futility, it reveals true,
Not for single agent but for empire's sake.
Peaceful unions, I could not eschew,
Acquiring such takes offensive wake.

To Chivalry -

Be your own code and nothing more,
Honor the weaker sex in benevolence.
Place not around the dial, therefore,
To evade losing a lady's good presence.


The Golden Sayings of Epictetus, XI and XII


The other day I had an iron lamp placed beside my household gods. I heard a noise at the door and on hastening down found my lamp carried off. I reflected that the culprit was in no very strange case. "Tomorrow, my friend," I said, "you will find an earthenware lamp; for a man can only lose what he has."


The reason why I lost my lamp was that the thief was superior to me in vigilance. He paid however this price for the lamp, that in exchange for it he consented to become a thief: in exchange for it, to become faithless.


19 They made a calf in Horeb and worshiped a molten image. 20 They exchanged the glory of God for the image of an ox that eats grass. Ps. 106

The two proverbs of Epictetus seem to be speaking of a kind of manifest punishment or a judgment. He knows that no evildoer will go unpunished in either two ways.

One: A worldly manifest punishment that gives him the title of faithless or thief. For this man he has no faith in anything but in himself which quite honestly is the last person you would want to put your faith in; for can we as mortals deliver ourselves from disaster one hundred percent of the time. No. But the thief regards his acquiring a lamp, through robbing, worth sacrificing his good repute.

Two: This is his judgment he receives from God. In the first proverb Epictetus uses the phrase household gods and how he had his lamp placed beside them as though it belonged there. This thief wanted this household god (lamp) and regarded it more valuable than the actual God. This directly relates to Psalm 106. The thief made and exchange that was clearly a bad decision. It would be like trading a billion dollars for an 1886 penny. But he was so consumed by his desires that to him it was worth the trade.

You have to ask yourself, "Is the sin worth it if I will falling from the grace of God?" But this statement has the most weight if you have a correct idea of the sublime vision of God. For he is a consuming fire.

Two Stanzas For Creed

The gentleman saith, "How can you speak thus?
We and our powers have a communal trust."
The powers that be will ignore this man,
And snuff him out, the best they can.

He pushes against the wind, soon forgetting the trust,
Obey the gentleman's system, the governors shall regard.
Abiding by this, the conspirator says we must,
For this is his law unchanged: Obey until life gets hard.

By gun