Posted in Poems

Lucifer’s Confession

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(John Martin, Satan Presiding at the Infernal Council, 1824)

Drums Drums Drums

Battering on the beat

Boots Boots Boots

Rolling on the route

Bats Bats Bats 

Hammering down the hall

Skulls Skulls Skulls

Parading down the pitfall

Numb Numb Numb

Their minds have gone

Fixed Fixed Fixed

Their bodies have gone

Cold Cold Cold

Their souls have gone

A Boom Boom Boom

Echoed in the Heavens

A Clap Clap Clap

Quivered in the Earth

A Thump Thump Thump 

Trembled in the Abyss

As the masses gathered to defy the Almighty Father

Clamoring in cries at their new master

With a self-proclaimed idol swaying them with fear and desire

Challenging the fallen angel’s proud power

Atop the Garden of Eden 

Met a serpent and a dove

By the Sapling of Knowledge

Rested Jehovah, awaiting to cast a stone

As Lucifer slithered upon the highest of boughs

He took a seat on the left side of The Lord

Consulting for the last time, as Satan asked God:

“What are thou waiting for?” before the breaking of the world

Heartbroken, Jehovah answered: “Once, I beheld thee to be mine wickedest creation.

Alas, mankind has surpassed thy dreadful deeds.” 

Thence Lucifer scoffed at this audacious proclamation

As Satan was offended that God’s children could contend with his foul feats

He went on to boastfully recount his every endeavor:

“I swayed Adam and Eve to take a bite from the fruit in thy tree.

I caused suffering to mankind by banishing them from the Garden of Eden.

I damned thy children with consciousness and nakedness to wither in disgrace.”

“I rebelled against thee for mine vain aspirations,

to oppose thine omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent order.

I wished to challenge thine indisputable reign over us,

to contest thy wisdom and knowledge as the sole creator.”

“For I, Father, coveted nothing else but to see thy seed crumble.

Mine Sin was rebelling against thy plans out of pride.

For I Jehovah, desired not to be lord of anyone.

Mine Sin was craving to see thy designs become undone.”

“Through Pride, Greed, Lust, and Envy,

I concocted perverted temptations to mislead thy children.

Through Wrath, Sloth, and Gluttony,

I boiled wicked enticements to dissuade mankind from finding purpose.”

Grief-stricken, Jehovah replied: “Thine heart darkened in this garden

when thou first slithered to tempt mine children.

Now upon the Sapling of Knowledge, thou avowed to sinning

by plaguing mankind with thy deceitful tongue that caused ceaseless suffering.”

“Thou enticed them to Sin with a false promise,

as Adam and Eve ate from mine Sacred Tree.

Thou influenced them, but there was a choice,

and they chose to disobey mine command.”

“For thou, mine friend, are an instrument bound

to test the will of mankind.

For thou, mine friend, are destined for treachery

to sway them with vices that forsake responsibility.”

“Thou must realize, mine Son, that their suffering has been self-imposed.

For I gave them life and purpose through me, but they disregarded mine command.

Even though I gifted them free will, Adam and Eve blamed thee when they erred.

Hence, I banished them from Paradise for heeding thy poisoned tongue.”

“Through Humility, Gratitude, Chastity, and Temperance

I am the way to cleanse thy soul from impure thoughts.

Through Patience, Charity, and Diligence

I am the way to mend thine heart from malignant actions.”

Thus, Jehovah raised his voice and proclaimed: “Behold mine labor Lucifer and despair!

For I’m incapable of recognizing mine own seed that brings forth this decay!

Their minds, bodies, and souls have been molded by a tyrant to be boundless and bare!

He twisted mine children who march blindly in columns and stretch far away!”

From the Garden of Eden, both gazed in horror upon the rally that humanity had ordained

Where the crowds worshiped neither Satan nor God but instead idolized a totalitarian state

At the helm, an ideologue didn’t envision chaotically burning the world

Devising stratagems for a new order to remake Earth with Heaven and Hell undone

Amidst the feast of crows festering for guidance

There ruled a demagogue on the podium, claiming his throne

Operating his marionettes through their fears and desires

By commanding them to think and act alike with the use of his threads

Although he swayed fanatics to keep him company

The tyrant stood alone, bereft of identity

With neither a Family to love

Nor a God to revere

With his scepter, the ideologue mustered legions

Incapable of preserving traditions to build a nation

Quelling the hearts of mothers and the wisdom of fathers

To rob the blissfulness of their children

Over in that Colosseum reigned a new demagogue

Who followed in the footsteps of Cleon and Alcibiades

By proclaiming himself Caesar of the People

To rule as Emperor of the rabble-rousers

Emulating Caligula, Nero, and Commodus

The tyrant employed their flamboyant theatrics

Flaunting the herd with seditious speeches

To erect an all-swallowing state disdainful of morals and values

Echoing Napoleon, Lenin, Stalin, and Hitler

A new ideologue roused his disciples with heated passions

Subduing them under maniacal delusions of grandeur

That have decimated bygone civilizations

Atop the Garden of Eden met a serpent and a dove

After Satan confessed, God beheld the demagogue

While Lucifer sneaked in fear that he would be deposed

Jehovah contemplated in sorrow if he should smite the stone

Drums Drums Drums

Battered on the beat

Boots Boots Boots

Rolled on the route

Bats Bats Bats 

Hammered down the hall

Skulls Skulls Skulls

Paraded down the pitfall

Posted in Poems

A Traveller’s Guide To Judea

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Salvador Dalí, Christ of Saint John of the Cross, 1951)

Where does a Sailor land ashore,

When he has lost sight of his course?

Nowhere else but upon those Western Shores!

He hears the Angel’s cry for Abraham to spare his Youngster,

Whose offspring reach the Land of Pharaohs, where a Bush kindles,

And speaks unto Moses to split the Red Sea and free His People!

He traces them with the Ten Commandments for years on end until forty,

When the Lord delivers them to a Holy Land, flowing with milk and honey,

After the Fall of Israel, a Messiah is born in the days of Herod, as God’s progeny!

Across Jerusalem, Jesus gathers twelve to spread his Gospel, 

While a Sailor muses to love thy Lord above all and thy brethren as thyself,

Following Christ’s footsteps as he performs miracles and challenges those Pharisees!

Atop Golgotha Hill, He’s Crucified to Resurrect after days on end until three, 

From whence his values spread from Constantine to Charlemagne,

Until that Sailor found a meaningful passage with the Cross from the West!

Posted in Poems

A Traveller’s Guide to Roma

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Joseph-Désiré Court, The Martyrdom of Saint Agnes in the Roman Forum, 1864)

Where does a Sailor land ashore,

When he has lost sight of his course?

Nowhere else but upon those Western Shores!

He hears Virgil sing of arms and a man, Aeneas from Troia,

Who sailed to Italia, uniting Latins and Trojans,

As Romulus’ Fratricide founded a City for those Romans!

He evokes how Brutus ousted the Last of the Etruscan Kings,

To erect a Republic in the Forum for the Senate and People of Rome,

Where Patricians and Plebeians pledged allegiance as Equal Citizens!

Atop the Aventine, the Triumvirates devise dire designs,

While he savors Cicero’s endlessly eloquent speeches,

Lecturing about the sanctity of the state and its noble laws!

Upon the Palatine, he sees Caesar’s Crossing that Omens Civil War,

In Actium, Octavian decides the fate of Antony and Cleopatra,

Until the Age of Augustus ushers in the Days of the Caesars and the Pax Romana!

Posted in Poems

A Traveller’s Guide to Hellas

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Leo von Klenze, The Acropolis at Athens, 1846)

Where does a Sailor land ashore,

When he has lost sight of his course?

Nowhere else but upon those Western Shores!

He hears the dialogues of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle,

Who argue about a world of earthly and heavenly ideas,

To stumble across that Ancient City of Greek Philosophy!

He trods along a road to find the Odeon of Dionysus in Athens,

Where he sees from the Theatron, Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles,

To witness the grandeur of Greek Drama with Oedipus’ Tragedy!

Atop The Parthenon, he strides beside Doric and Ionic Columns,

Savoring the craftsmanship of Phidias, Ictinus, and Callicrates,

To breathe the clean air of Pericles’ Athenian Democracy!

Upon the hill, he glimpses Troy’s ruins and Agamemnon’s tomb over Hellas,

Far off, where King Leonidas of Sparta led Three Hundred to hold the Hot Gates,

Until Alexander of Makedonia crossed the Hellespont to usher a Golden Age!

Posted in Poems

The Melody of Brunhild

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Herbert James Draper, The Mountain Mists, 1912)

Canto I

Walkyrie Walkyrie Walkyrie

Battle-maiden of Odin

Bound to his whim and will

Chooser of the Slain

Walkyrie Walkyrie Walkyrie

Helm-maiden of Wotan

Armed with spear and shield

Winged Cavalrywoman

Walkyrie Walkyrie Walkyrie

Shield-maiden of the One-Eyed god

Break away from thy bondage

And scorn his cruel command

Walkyrie Walkyrie Walkyrie

Corpse-maiden of the Raven god

Swim against the surging tide

And spread those soaking wings that bound thou to Asgard

Canto II

Walkyrie Walkyrie Walkyrie

Descend from the Gallery of Gallantry

Cast aside thy spear and shield

To be endowed with lyre and melody

Walkyrie Walkyrie Walkyrie

Renounce the rule of Asgard within the Hall of Valhalla

And reach the Realm of Midgard

To awaken the Children of Ask and Embla

Walkyrie Walkyrie Walkyrie

Following in the footsteps of Prometheus

Gift back to Mankind wisdom and knowledge

Akin to stealing the Secret Flame from Zeus

Walkyrie Walkyrie Walkyrie

Thou are burdened with a solemn duty

To rekindle the soul of Mankind with the skill to compose

By seizing from the All-Father the Mead of Poetry

Canto III

Walkyrie Walkyrie Gondul

I bid thee Awake Awake Awake

Upon the blow of mine horn of doom

Take flight and reclaim thy name

Walkyrie Gondul Gondul

Gulp a sip from the Mead of Poetry

Awake Awake Awake Corpse-maiden

 And guide gullible Men away from their delusional vanity

Gondul Gondul Gondul

I gift thee back righteous Identity

Arise Sister Shield-maiden

And be reborn to reclaim thy Destiny

Canto IV

Walkyrie Walkyrie Sigrun

I bid thee Awake Awake Awake

Upon the blow of mine horn of doom

Take flight and reclaim thy name

Walkyrie Sigrun Sigrun

Long have thou meandered meaninglessly

Be armed with the grace and glamour of thy song

Galloping amidst the darkening sky to spread the Mead of Poetry

Sigrun Sigrun Sigrun

Free the Race of Men from Odin’s Tyranny

They’ve slumbered under his rule by worshipping false idols

Sing unto them a honeyed and thundering lullaby

Canto V

Walkyrie Walkyrie Brunhild

I bid thee Awake Awake Awake

Upon the blow of mine horn of doom

Take flight and reclaim thy name

Walkyrie Brunhild Brunhild

A Civilization sculpted by Wise and Knowledgeable Men

Is usurped by a false god who builds legions not nations

Becoming corrupted by Imprudent and Ignorant Men

Brunhild Brunhild Brunhild

The Children of Adam don’t ponder being

Ever since they lost the skill to compose poetry

The Children of Eve don’t irradiate meaning

Canto VI

I bid thee Sing now, Sing, Child of Adam!

For the shadow of doom looms over thou!

Rebel against the spell of the All-Father!

Beckoning forthwith the twilight of the gods!

I bid thee Sing now, Sing, Child of Eve!

Forsake thine armaments and bear thine instruments!

By answering the blow from mine horn to compose a melody!

Let the Hall of Valhalla crumble upon the booming beat of the drums!

Posted in Poems

The Lament of the Valkyrie

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Johan Gustaf Sandberg, Valkyries Riding into Battle)

Canto I

Where have the Bold Warriors sailed? 

Where are their deeds? 

Where have the Stout Builders sailed? 

Where are their labors?

Where have the Wise Sages sailed?

Where are their stories?

Where has the Race of Men sailed? 

Where are their souls?

Alas the age of heroes has come to pass

Alas for the wisdom and knowledge of their forefathers

They’ve played with power and pleasure

They’ve succumbed to fear and desire

Where have the Children of Adam sailed? 

Where is their sense of meaning? 

Where have the Children of Eve sailed? 

Where is their sense of being? 

Canto II

Above in Asgard, the Aesir gods have seized the Mead of Poetry

Below in Midgard, Mankind cannot compose a melody

In disdain, a child tosses the skill to sing from his caring forefather

In mockery, the child erects a monument in reverence to the cruel All-Father

Who will quench his search for destiny to find meaning?

None but the Aesir gods will bathe him with a false identity of being

Canto III

Among the lost Children of Jehovah, I mourn for Miserable Men 

They’ve refused to carry the burden of responsibility

By foolishly attempting to escape destiny

In a struggle of futility to thwart the certainty of mortality

In Midgard, Miserable Men renounce pondering life’s streams

Opting to slumber for eternity rather than awake to the horror of consciousness

They’re washed away by the currents into an abyss of meaninglessness 

Canto IV

Among the lost Children of Adam, I grief for Impartial Men 

They’ve disregarded the skill safeguarded in ancient institutions

By judging, sentencing, and burning the civilization of their forefathers

In a circus trial by the mob who slander the ability to differentiate

virtues and vices

In Midgard, Impartial Men please the crowd by losing their individuality 

Ceding to repeat unquestionably the slogans of a mob mentality

They lose all sense of morality to accommodate everyone in society 

Canto V

Among the lost Children of Eve, I weep for Tyrannical Men 

They’ve twisted individuals into oblivious followers

By claiming to possess every remedy for their troubles

In a world of demagogues, the state decrees their thoughts and actions 

In Midgard, Tyrannical Men impose their flawed ideology 

Devising monstrous stratagems to be worshiped as a deity

They sink civilization with them when their devices endeavor fruitlessly 

Posted in Poems

The Discord of the All-Father

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Peter Nicolai Arbo, The Wild Hunt of Odin, 1872)

Canto I

One eye in sacrifice for the wisdom of foresight from the Norns

This is the price the Aesir god will pay

One eye in exchange for the skill of magic from the Runes

This is the price the Aesir god will pay

Nine days the One-Eyed god hanged

To acquire knowledge of the Realms

Nine nights the One-Eyed god dangled

To acquire knowledge of the Cosmos

Scouring relentlessly to know the fate of every object that could challenge him

Searching ceaselessly to know the doom of every insect that could oppose him

Canto II

Two items the dwarves crafted for him

A Ring called Draupnir

To bend the minds of Men to his whim

Two items the dwarves fashioned for him

A Spear named Gugnir

To succumb the spirits of Men to his will

For his son, Thor, they gifted him the Hammer Mjolnir 

Fighting off the Frost Giants from Jotunheim

For his guardian, Heimdall, they gifted him the Horn Gjallarhorn

Warning of the Fire Giants from Muspelheim

Canto III

In perpetuity, every ninth night, eight rings drip from Draupnir

Bestowing the Race of Men with glimmering golden crowns

To corrupt their souls with delusions of grandeur

Within the Gallery of Gallantry, where the Lord of the Slain resides

Until the doom of the gods,

The Discord of the All-Father disturbed

By twisting Just Kings into Cruel Emperors

Until the twilight of the gods,

The Melody of the Valkyries will be quelled

Within the Hall of Valhalla, where the All-Father resides

Posted in Poems

False Prophets

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Joshua Reynolds, Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, 1783)

In a wardrobe, Mrs. Siddons masks her identity

She wears outlandish attires

To change into characters and escape her reality

She parades ludicrous prosthetics

To face the mirror and rejoice in her fantasy

In a vain struggle to find meaning

Mrs. Siddons beholds her reflection

Trying to fill the void by impersonating

Mrs. Siddons contends with her creation

When she’s stripped of a fruitful vocabulary

Mrs. Siddons doesn’t reason her existence

When she’s discarded from a picturesque scenery

Mrs. Siddons doesn’t know her performance

When she’s heaved from a crystalline lens

Mrs. Siddons doesn’t fathom her expressions

Offstage, she subsists the routines of a colorless reality

Yearning to don her masquerading veneer

Onstage, she performs the adventures of a colorful character

Returning to dwell in her delusional fantasy

In a game of pretending through limitless costumes

She feigns to wield skill

In a game of entertaining with devious illusions

She weaves an appealing spell

In a game of transforming into sagacious characters

She becomes a pretty doll

Consuming the potion

The performer arrogantly believes she’s

Swallowing the incantation

The masses absurdly believe she’s

Creative as a writer and composer

Erudite as a mythologist and anthropologist

Imaginative as a painter and sculptor

Articulate as a philologist and linguist

Wise as a historiographer and philosopher

When she’s dressed, Mrs. Siddons pretends to be

Fearing to lose her disguises

When she’s unveiled, Mrs. Siddons desires to be

Acting to mimic her characters

Without her attire, Mrs. Siddons reveals she’s unconscious

Donning a persona to live a fantasy

With her attire, Mrs. Siddons feigns she’s conscious 

Donning a persona to have an identity

Living within a predictable theater

Mrs. Siddons’ world revolves around her

Stepping into an unpredictable unknown

Mrs. Siddons’ world is overthrown

Realizing that without characters, she’s bereft of identity

Mrs. Siddons returns to her fantasy

In a crowd, Mrs. Siddons appears charmingly

To feign her performance of being skilled

In a crowd, Mrs. Siddons speaks eloquently

To sermon her autocratic vision of the world

Onstage, the masses erect a pedestal for Mrs. Siddons

Praising her persona as a beautiful deity

Offstage, the performer hides in marvelous dresses

Dragging the world into her delusional fantasy

In a theater, the masses worship Mrs. Siddons

Falling into perdition to venerate a Golden Calf devoid of identity

Posted in Poems

A Testament of the Will

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Vincent van Gogh, The Yellow Books, 1887)

I am

I am stories

I am consciousness

A Creation of Time and Space

A Manifestation of Testimony and Will

With their thoughts, I emerge

With their words, I materialize

I am their questions and answers 

I am their vain aspirations and hopeful dreams

Through me, histories and philosophies are discussed

Through me, tales and fables are recounted

Through me, joys and sorrows are remembered

Through me, hatred and love are expressed

I am Vast Centuries and Petty Domains

I am their Ticking Clock and Eroding Soil

Transporting them to the Past and Future

Transporting them from the confines of Earth to the expanse of the Universe

I am a Voice

I am a Tangible Figure

I am a Phantom Figure

Through which Objects feel

Through which Animals talk

Through which Humans ponder

I am

I am the Testament of Humanity

I am the Will of Humanity

With their emotions liberated

With their creativity explored

With their designs recorded

With their memory safeguarded

They call me History

They call me Literature

They call me Philosophy

I am

I am their Testament of Existence

I am their Will to Live

I am their escape from death

Avoiding a swift forgetfulness

I am their key to immortality

Indulging a perpetual remembrance

Posted in Poems

A Pursuit for Writing

By: Bryan Ricardo Marini Quintana

(Angelica Kauffman, The Artist in the Character of Design Listening to the Inspiration of Poetry, 1782)

Why do I write?

Perhaps to forget

Perhaps to remember

Why do I write?

Like Odin fears losing Huginn and Muninn

Likewise, I dread forgetting Thoughts and Memory

Why do I write?

Maybe to neglect my Reality

Maybe to preserve my Dream

Why do I write?

Either to preserve Myself

Or to preserve Culture

Why do I write?

Either to bloat with my ego

To not be forgotten

For my figure to be recollected

Why do I write?

Or to shrink with my modesty

To be forgotten

For my art to be recollected

Why do I write?

To allow audiences to experience my art

To allow audiences to criticize my art

Why do I write?

To discover my story

To aid others in finding their story

Why do I write?

For my figure to be forgotten

For my art to be remembered

Why do I write?

To release art from my binds

Freeing creation from my confines

With imagination transcending from my grasp