Ah, one week to the election. How exciting!
I wrote this for the Virgin Mary yesterday-

Sonnet XVII

Mother, Jewel of the Prince's Crown, thou hold
The One Infant, pressed close into thy breast
Whose eyes I fear and love, be it confessed
In an empty breath made bold for all thy Fold
Thy Church, thy Son's beloved: Hers is the sword
I bear at noon; mine actions speak much less
I lend all love, thy Rosary caress
And fall in rout, forsake my sov'reign Lord.
And yet...I fall to thee! I hope in thee!
Humble Queen, perfect, say to Holy God:
Thy servant fails, he Thee assails, the rod
Spare him. Thou his All, ever with him be.
Know this, Mary, the light of porc'lain eyes
Set in this proxy here, thy soul's disguise.

To a friend who requested a sonnet (and then decided against getting one, but she gets one anyway)-

Sonnet XVI

Though angels there are, seraphs at their head
To incense the throne of God, I observe
In all this realm few damsels of reserve
So radiate as this Laura, lips red
And silent, eyes still, immersed in water
Of penance, modesty, and lucid love.
She lives within: The tribulations of
The world are hers- Yet she remains God's daughter.
To my witness, rarely has she sorrow
Always is she with her train of friends
Who by their thoughts and movements fall, which lends
Lustre to Miss Squire's blood each morrow
Whence, in A/V, her countenance I face
And therein see her transient, sweet grace.

It is not to be denied any longer: the G.O.P. will receive crippling losses in the '06 elections, but I have not lost hope. We may still have one good, honest new senator: Tom Kean Jr. (a moderate yes, but he DOES support a constitutional amendment to defend marriage, and would have voted for both Roberts and Alito). John McCain is also a solidly honest rising star, both anti-torture and socially conservative (despite his detractors, he votes pro-life consistently). We will lose Santorum, but the one senator even better than him, Sam Brownback of Kansas, remains. The Party of Lincoln, in retribution for its inquities, will lose Congress, but not permanently: this very closely resembles the Democrats' brief eclipse in the '46 elections- we will return to a G.O.P. majority speedily, and with good reason.
Some Traditionalists, such as the Remnant, believe this quixotic pundit is silly for his friendly partisanship; they note that many or most Republicans conform their views to those of their district for political gain. Let me remind them that such immortalized Catholic leaders, such as Emperor Charles V, Louis XVI, Bloody Mary, and even Queen Isabella have been accused of the same thing. Like their contemporaries, I tell you it would be moronic to begrudge these fine soldiers of Christ because, in their personal weakness (we all have them, especially when we have power) they have any motives besides faith behind their good works!
Next time, I'll post a new sonnet, for a more blissful tone.

Now, I will try and win my former lady back, as she enjoys my poetry so that I can continue to read her some. This piece I finished just yesterday after work (at Big Lots); it has already reveived a good review from my friends:

Once again for my sweet corn muffin,

Sonnet XIV

You rush upon me always, o' spectre
Of my heart. I flee, arms out, and find the
Warm, slim supple torso: ---------
My love. I hold her, like our church lector
Holds God at once. Entranced, he breathes slowly
As I do, caressing her fair, soft neck
Strong as a mere besought by battle's beck
And many tears. Guard her, God Most Holy.
The great lie deceives us ever. Yet love
You guard me in a cloak, held close, and drown
Me in unsought grace, that the happy crown
Bejeweled in berry blood (of frost above
Which fell and melted crimson, Heaven's gift)
Is often mine, for so your eyes uplift.

I request prayers on the behalf of my oh-so-former-love's mother, who will undergo surgery tomorrow: she will need them.
(Don't use this as an excuse to forget to pray for America's conversion, our brave troops in Iraq, Afghanistan, etc., and the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy in France!)

My blog will likely have more sporadic posting from now on, as my A/V teacher is cracking down on this fine vehicle of punditry's use. Sorry!

A bit belated, but on another Catholic monarchist blog, I realized that it was sixty years ago that the Spanish Civil War began. Ah, sin-filled and sanguine, but judging from the degeneration in Spain since then, it would have been worth over one million lives.
Speaking of war, our AP Senior English class just completed Remarque's All Quiet on the Western Front which, unlike a Le Monde endorsement on the back cover, should be burned by the millions- okay maybe not, I exaggerate, but it's harmful to read. I mean, Remarque seems to have forgotten the point of the Great War: to save the Austro-Hungarian Empire from Serbian terrorism! (and Serbia's allies, which unfortunatey came to include the United Kingdom, France, Portugal, Italy [note the Masonic, anti-Catholic states], Russia, Montenegro, and even these United States of America under Woody [possibly our worst president, besides maybe James Buchanon, Franklin Roosevelt, Andrew Jackson, or James Carter]). Now look: the only Catholic monarchy we have left is Spain and that is as nominal as they get.
If the Central Powers had won, WWI would have been worth the blood. I know, I know, war is a punishment from God for our sins (per Our Lady of Fatima). Therefore, the only way we will ever have peace would be to encelop the war in Catholic states that illegalize abortion, homosexual ACTS, contraception, spurs its people to eliminate poverty, et cetera. Thus, expect World War III to begin in our lifetimes, unless...

This poem will be in the NHS yearbook:

Sonnet XI: A Word to Sweet Jesus

Three rays of blood, they shine from Thy pierced heart
Like filigree, caressing, destroying
Entrenched, blind vagueries, sins employing
My cape, in revelries to rend my will apart
So will I die, to be reborn in Thee
O' God the Mighty and the Prince of Peace
Thou forgive me, mine inquities release
Cast them without; make my conscience thus free.
I cry: yet my tears hath lost their savor
For I love Thee, yet still feel cold within
And hath oft pride, that separating din
Which torments still Thy sad, cursed crusader
Yet this is nought to Thee, who canst all mend
My final love, and only constant friend.

It is excellent; my Prince will be pleased, I hope, eh?

Sancta Gianna Beretta Molla! The most pious teacher in our school is expecting a legitimate child as for February!
In the current fight to preserve our Christian culture, every child counts. I don't name names on my blog, but if anyone knows her (a French teacher), I request prayers on her unborn child's behalf. He/she will grow up in a most un-Catholic environment, and will need many prayers for a good future.
Meanwhile, prayers for the Duke of Anjou's wife, Maria Margarita Vargas y Santaella, who is expecting; if a boy, the child may one day be pretender to the French throne! That child needs very many prayers!

Things are looking up! The chief yearbook dame, for lack of a better term, has decided to place my Sonnet XI in the yearbook. This is odd, as it it not my normal style: it is entitled A Word to Sweet Jesus, and naturally mentions women not once. Additionally, our secular school is the model of anticlericalism (well, she is Catholic). My name will not appear on it, as I, often too proud, decided to follow the course of the great Medieval architects of cathedrals: all my talents came from God; He will be glorified, not me.
Better days will come; we just need to trust in God and keep our spirits up. One day, all of America WILL be under the One Fold of the Same One Shepherd.

This poem, I wrote for the purest dame since the Blessed Virgin; only she's Jewish. I know that if only she didn't have a boyfriend, we'd make a good couple: I'm Catholic, she's Jewish- we'd be whisky and rye. But back to the real world, I simply wrote her this because I made fun of her last Friday, and want her to feel better:

Sonnet XII

All adore that seraphic, Jewish dove
Who smiles always, and is ever kind
And sweareth not: she hath the purset mind
Of all her sex (save for Mary above).
Her dark, wisping hair, tis a sublime charm
It springs, is soft, these qualities and such
Which I, sadly, only in dream canst touch
Lest he who won her charm bringeth me harm!
When our day is near to done, she doth write
Lit'nies of factoids on the hist'ry board
In prose neat as notes of a harpsichord.
Yea, that maiden's step is strung with delight.
I confess, though her it doth not much please
Her sweet neatness makes her most fun to tease!


And yes, I did just give a full quatrain to her hair- it's like a mop crafted by Venus, and would put Mary Magdalen and Helen of Troy to shame. Sadly, she doesn't like it very much, and sometimes spends hours steamrolling its curls, causing me to be sad ///ohhhhh...if only I could touch her hair!!///- Yes, I am going crazy.

Well, even if what I hoped for in my last post came true, it still wouldn't solve all our problems. But it would help. As I once wrote (much to the ire of my sophomore English teacher, a former '60s radical) America is the world's political saviour. Only we are still pious enough for the hope of a true Catholic government to be established. Abortion will be illegalized, homosexual marriage will be constitutionally banned, and we will one day have Catholicism as the state religion- these will probrably happen in that order once people realize how ridiculous evolution is ("science" is the friend of atheists, but the science of probability is OUR ally). Then, and only then, can we take the place of Spain in the 16th Century: the great engine of missionarying and the great warrior against heresy. where once the Society of Jesus struck terror into the hearts of heretics with words, the Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary (M.I.C.M., www.catholicism.org) will do the same to heathens. And although I think war will not solve our problems, America is not afraid to stand up to the Islamists and communists with sword in hand and Rosary in pocket: and, I mean, who would mind conquering the Netherlands? And with ardor, this can all be done before I die (I'm 17): the Bourbons will rule in France, the Habsburgs in Austria, and the Braganzas in Portugal (among others). You've been forewarned, secularists!

All right: I'm doin' better now.
I guess I'll revert to my optomistic November prediction; according to C-Span, we will at least keep majorities in both houses of Congress. I mean, it couldn't possibly get any worse after mark Foley (it will be painfully nice to purge Hastert from the house!).
Wow. Wouldn't it be swell if Ted Kennedy was caught with many pages at once, right as he chuckled and said to them, "Oh yeah, come to papa!"- Wouldn't surprise me. Despite his faith, he already condones the murder of one million children a year, so I can see him molesting them oughly sixteen years removed from their mother's womb...

How could things get any worse?
I. The Mark Foley scandal will sink the G.O.P. in November; it has even wavered my faith in its leadership.
II. My de facto girlfriend just crushed my heart. I wrote her three sonnets, gave her flowers, and brought her out once, completely footing the bill (like a real gentleman). And this is what I get?!
III. I hate most of my classes; I don't care about my future, either.
Now I am living only for God and His Mother, the only ones who deeply care about me. All these facades, stock caracters, self-centered, privelidged, carefree heartbreaking women, they tire me. Death seems sweet, but I must not embrace it. Virtue's dark cloak has caught me in a way i could not have contemplated. I feel like Job, suffering for a reason only the Lord does, or can understand. All the consolers, KGBs out there, they help no one. I never expected my love to feel emotional love for me, as I feel for her; no one can ask that in right. All I wished was an intellectual acknowledgment that she wished to be by my side, to hold my hand, and appreciated the kindness I had shown her, that we might be like the couple on the Anis de Flavigny Rose Pastilles tin. Of course, no one will ever read this, because all the people who've given lip service to their compassion for me were liars; I've asked so many to merely view my blog and post on it, but could not give even that wisp of courtesy. No, this isn't an online suicide note (although that sin would be sweet; as all who commit it do, I want attention: I want people to feel guilt); I would never do that because a. I love God b. I fear Hell c. I'm a coward. Oh well: I will post my Sonnet X soon enough. I will give a bit of time for this post to resonate in God's mind and my own, since no one will care enough to post on my blog...God bless you, and may He continue to bless America.

Last Tuesday, my Acting & Directing class went on a field trip to see Anne Bogart's take on Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Last period, I found the class exalting her for having the fairies act like satyrs (too sensual, etc.) and naturally there was Catholic bashing. I can understand this. Our culture is, like many before it, drowning in sexuality. Doesn't anyone besides me want a break from this, to have their heart reside in pure affection rather than lust? really, I'm getting a headache from all this! Oh well, I guess that the Church's recognition of diabolic influence in allegorical satyrs and such will coninue to be attacked because we Westerners are so immursed in paganism and lies. I despair of this at times.

I've gotta get about changing my profile- I finally have a [atheistic] girlfriend, but aspire to become a monk. Go figure.
This is a piece I wrote for her:

Sonnet VIII

Below the dome, its gaze of newborn blue
Rests now the sweetest dame which God could name
In all His lands, though faith is not her fame-
Yea, her eyes are bright, her skin the fairest hue
Perhaps Botticelli spun her from his lips
For hers look lovely, espec'ly with that ring
(It jostles as that pretty voice doth sing)
And very most, I love herv sombre quips.
Her conscience is a keep in which I rest
When solitude, that vice, befalleth me.
And whilst her thought can hush a bitter sea
Between her constant arms, will one be blest!
Oh what a heart indeed, a china charm
I shalt defend, lest it may come to harm.

Pretty nice, isn't it? I welcome and appreciate all appropriate feedback.