A New Project

“The children played along the banks of the river to wash off the heat of the midday sun while servants fetched water for cooking and washing. Among the children were Pyramus, the son of a wealthy merchant and Thisbe, the daughter of a household slave, though they were far too young to make that distinction. They had been raised under the same roof, albeit to a different degree of privilege, but were otherwise very much surrogate brother and sister, much to their parent’s dissatisfaction.”

(This is the first draft opening paragraph of my latest project. I will be taking on the classic tale of Pyramis and Thisbe, first attributed to Ovid and also tackled by the likes of Chaucer and Shakespeare, not that I am in their league, but because I think I have a fresh take on the story.)

 

T J Therien

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Who but a Slave?

 

 

 

Who but a slave would toil a lifetime in jobs they do not like? This idea of earning a living is one of forced servitude. Life is a right. It is not something to be earned. People have been indentured by Banks and Corporations. Poverty is an engineered condition. Land Ownership is still the sole determining factor that distinguishes freeman from slave. Money is a fictitious value assigned to a figment of the collective imagination and cannot determine a person’s worth. Money is the currency of compliance, the chains and shackles of economy limits potential and prevents people from following their dreams by forcing them to eke out a living. So tell me, who but a slave?

 

T J Therien

 

At the Sweet Apple’s Core

 

There is corruption at the sweet apple’s core
The elite argue over how to treat the poor
While the poor argue amongst themselves
Broken spines line dusty shelves
The story’s been written and forgotten
Something at the sweet apple’s core is rotten
Watch it slither, writhe and squirm
The rot begot the God Emperor Worm

 

 T J Therien

I’m Afraid

 

I’m afraid we would be remiss
If we were too quick to dismiss
If we overlook one precious fact
We will rue the knowledge that we lacked
In ignorance there is no bliss

The serpent’s tell, rattle and hiss
The succubus steals souls with a kiss
And even mighty Rome was sacked…
I’m afraid

There is something that is amiss
It’s not supposed to be like this
So if we are too quick to act
We may go too far to change tact
The World’s gone to shit and piss…
I’m afraid

 

T J Therien