Then Ulysses tore off his rags, and sprang on to the broad
pavement with his bow and his quiver full of arrows. He shed the
arrows on to the ground at his feet and said, “The mighty contest is
at an end. I will now see whether Apollo will vouchsafe it to me to
hit another mark which no man has yet hit.”
  On this he aimed a deadly arrow at Antinous, who was about to take
up a two-handled gold cup to drink his wine and already had it in
his hands. He had no thought of death—who amongst all the revellers
would think that one man, however brave, would stand alone among so
many and **** him? The arrow struck Antinous in the throat, and the
point went clean through his neck, so that he fell over and the cup
dropped from his hand, while a thick stream of blood gushed from his
nostrils. He kicked the table from him and upset the things on it,
so that the bread and roasted meats were all soiled as they fell
over on to the ground. The suitors were in an uproar when they saw
that a man had been hit; they sprang in dismay one and all of them
from their seats and looked everywhere towards the walls, but there
was neither shield nor spear, and they rebuked Ulysses very angrily.
“Stranger,” said they, “you shall pay for shooting people in this way:
om yi you shall see no other contest; you are a doomed man; he whom
you have slain was the foremost youth in Ithaca, and the vultures
shall devour you for having killed him.”
  Thus they spoke, for they thought that he had killed Antinous by
mistake, and did not perceive that death was hanging over the head
of every one of them. But Ulysses glared at them and said:
  “Dogs, did you think that I should not come back from Troy? You have
wasted my substance, have forced my women servants to lie with you,
and have wooed my wife while I was still living. You have feared
neither Cod nor man, and now you shall die.”
  They turned pale with fear as he spoke, and every man looked round
about to see whither he might fly for safety, but Eurymachus alone
spoke.
  “If you are Ulysses,” said he, “then what you have said is just.
We have done much wrong on your lands and in your house. But
Antinous who was the head and front of the offending lies low already.
It was all his doing. It was not that he wanted to marry Penelope;
he did not so much care about that; what he wanted was something quite
different, and Jove has not vouchsafed it to him; he wanted to ****
your son and to be chief man in Ithaca. Now, therefore, that he has
met the death which was his due, spare the lives of your people. We
will make everything good among ourselves, and pay you in full for all
that we have eaten and drunk. Each one of us shall pay you a fine
worth twenty oxen, and we will keep on giving you gold and bronze till
your heart is softened. Until we have done this no one can complain of
your being enraged against us.”
  Ulysses again glared at him and said, “Though you should give me all
that you have in the world both now and all that you ever shall
have, I will not stay my hand till I have paid all of you in full. You
must fight, or fly for your lives; and fly, not a man of you shall.”
  Their hearts sank as they heard him, but Eurymachus again spoke
saying:
  “My friends, this man will give us no quarter. He will stand where
he is and shoot us down till he has killed every man among us. Let
us then show fight; draw your swords, and hold up the tables to shield
you from his arrows. Let us have at him with a rush, to drive him from
the pavement and doorway: we can then get through into the town, and
raise such an alarm as shall soon stay his shooting.”
  As he spoke he drew his keen blade of bronze, sharpened on both
sides, and with a loud cry sprang towards Ulysses, but Ulysses
instantly shot an arrow into his breast that caught him by the
****** and fixed itself in his liver. He dropped his sword and fell
doubled up over his table. The cup and all the meats went over on to
the ground as he smote the earth with his forehead in the agonies of
death, and he kicked the stool with his feet until his eyes were
closed in darkness.
  Then Amphinomus drew his sword and made straight at Ulysses to try
and get him away from the door; but Telemachus was too quick for
him, and struck him from behind; the spear caught him between the
shoulders and went right through his chest, so that he fell heavily to
the ground and struck the earth with his forehead. Then Telemachus
sprang away from him, leaving his spear still in the body, for he
feared that if he stayed to draw it out, some one of the Achaeans
might come up and hack at him with his sword, or knock him down, so he
set off at a run, and immediately was at his father’s side. Then he
said:
  “Father, let me bring you a shield, two spears, and a brass helmet
for your temples. I will arm myself as well, and will bring other
armour for the swineherd and the stockman, for we had better be
armed.”
  “Run and fetch them,” answered Ulysses, “while my arrows hold out,
or when I am alone they may get me away from the door.”
  Telemachus did as his father said, and went off to the store room
where the armour was kept. He chose four shields, eight spears, and
four brass helmets with horse-hair plumes. He brought them with all
speed to his father, and armed himself first, while the stockman and
the swineherd also put on their armour, and took their places near
Ulysses. Meanwhile Ulysses, as long as his arrows lasted, had been
shooting the suitors one by one, and they fell thick on one another:
when his arrows gave out, he set the bow to stand against the end wall
of the house by the door post, and hung a shield four hides thick
about his shoulders; on his comely head he set his helmet, well
wrought with a crest of horse-hair that nodded menacingly above it,
and he grasped two redoubtable bronze-shod spears.
  Now there was a trap door on the wall, while at one end of the
pavement there was an exit leading to a narrow passage, and this
exit was closed by a well-made door. Ulysses told Philoetius to
stand by this door and guard it, for only one person could attack it
at a time. But Agelaus shouted out, “Cannot some one go up to the trap
door and tell the people what is going on? Help would come at once,
and we should soon make an end of this man and his shooting.”
  “This may not be, Agelaus,” answered Melanthius, “the mouth of the
narrow passage is dangerously near the entrance to the outer court.
One brave man could prevent any number from getting in. But I know
what I will do, I will bring you arms from the store room, for I am
sure it is there that Ulysses and his son have put them.”
  On this the goatherd Melanthius went by back passages to the store
room of Ulysses, house. There he chose twelve shields, with as many
helmets and spears, and brought them back as fast as he could to
give them to the suitors. Ulysses’ heart began to fail him when he saw
the suitors putting on their armour and brandishing their spears. He
saw the greatness of the danger, and said to Telemachus, “Some one
of the women inside is helping the suitors against us, or it may be
Melanthius.”
  Telemachus answered, “The fault, father, is mine, and mine only; I
left the store room door open, and they have kept a sharper look out
than I have. Go, Eumaeus, put the door to, and see whether it is one
of the women who is doing this, or whether, as I suspect, it is
Melanthius the son of Dolius.”
  Thus did they converse. Meanwhile Melanthius was again going to
the store room to fetch more armour, but the swineherd saw him and
said to Ulysses who was beside him, “Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, it
is that scoundrel Melanthius, just as we suspected, who is going to
the store room. Say, shall I **** him, if I can get the better of him,
or shall I bring him here that you may take your own revenge for all
the many wrongs that he has done in your house?”
  Ulysses answered, “Telemachus and I will hold these suitors in
check, no matter what they do; go back both of you and bind
Melanthius’ hands and feet behind him. Throw him into the store room
and make the door fast behind you; then fasten a noose about his body,
and string him close up to the rafters from a high bearing-post,
that he may linger on in an agony.”
  Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said; they went to
the store room, which they entered before Melanthius saw them, for
he was busy searching for arms in the innermost part of the room, so
the two took their stand on either side of the door and waited. By and
by Melanthius came out with a helmet in one hand, and an old
dry-rotted shield in the other, which had been borne by Laertes when
he was young, but which had been long since thrown aside, and the
straps had become unsewn; on this the two seized him, dragged him back
by the hair, and threw him struggling to the ground. They bent his
hands and feet well behind his back, and bound them tight with a
painful bond as Ulysses had told them; then they fastened a noose
about his body and strung him up from a high pillar till he was
close up to the rafters, and over him did you then vaunt, O
swineherd Eumaeus, saying, “Melanthius, you will pass the night on a
soft bed as you deserve. You will know very well when morning comes
from the streams of Oceanus, and it is time for you to be driving in
your goats for the suitors to feast on.”
  There, then, they left him in very cruel *******, and having put
on their armour they closed the door behind them and went back to take
their places by the side of Ulysses; whereon the four men stood in the
cloister, fierce and full of fury; nevertheless, those who were in the
body of the court were still both brave and many. Then Jove’s daughter
Minerva came up to them, having assumed the voice and form of
Mentor. Ulysses was glad when he saw her and said, “Mentor, lend me
your help, and forget not your old comrade, nor the many good turns he
has done you. Besides, you are my age-mate.”
  But all the time he felt sure it was Minerva, and the suitors from
the other side raised an uproar when they saw her. Agelaus was the
first to reproach her. “Mentor,” he cried, “do not let Ulysses beguile
you into siding with him and fighting the suitors. This is what we
will do: when we have killed these people, father and son, we will
**** you too. You shall pay for it with your head, and when we have
killed you, we will take all you have, in doors or out, and bring it
into hotch-*** with Ulysses’ property; we will not let your sons
live in your house, nor your daughters, nor shall your widow
continue to live in the city of Ithaca.”
  This made Minerva still more furious, so she scolded Ulysses very
angrily. “Ulysses,” said she, “your strength and prowess are no longer
what they were when you fought for nine long years among the Trojans
about the noble lady Helen. You killed many a man in those days, and
it was through your stratagem that Priam’s city was taken. How comes
it that you are so lamentably less valiant now that you are on your
own ground, face to face with the suitors in your own house? Come
on, my good fellow, stand by my side and see how Mentor, son of
Alcinous shall fight your foes and requite your kindnesses conferred
upon him.”
  But she would not give him full victory as yet, for she wished still
further to prove his own prowess and that of his brave son, so she
flew up to one of the rafters in the roof of the cloister and sat upon
it in the form of a swallow.
  Meanwhile Agelaus son of Damastor, Eurynomus, Amphimedon,
Demoptolemus, Pisander, and Polybus son of Polyctor bore the brunt
of the fight upon the suitors’ side; of all those who were still
fighting for their lives they were by far the most valiant, for the
others had already fallen under the arrows of Ulysses. Agelaus shouted
to them and said, “My friends, he will soon have to leave off, for
Mentor has gone away after having done nothing for him but brag.
They are standing at the doors unsupported. Do not aim at him all at
once, but six of you throw your spears first, and see if you cannot
cover yourselves with glory by killing him. When he has fallen we need
not be uneasy about the others.”
  They threw their spears as he bade them, but Minerva made them all
of no effect. One hit the door post; another went against the door;
the pointed shaft of another struck the wall; and as soon as they
had avoided all the spears of the suitors Ulysses said to his own men,
“My friends, I should say we too had better let drive into the
middle of them, or they will crown all the harm they have done us by
us outright.”
  They therefore aimed straight in front of them and threw their
spears. Ulysses killed Demoptolemus, Telemachus Euryades, Eumaeus
Elatus, while the stockman killed Pisander. These all bit the dust,
and as the others drew back into a corner Ulysses and his men rushed
forward and regained their spears by drawing them from the bodies of
the dead.
  The suitors now aimed a second time, but again Minerva made their
weapons for the most part without effect. One hit a bearing-post of
the cloister; another went against the door; while the pointed shaft
of another struck the wall. Still, Amphimedon just took a piece of the
top skin from off Telemachus’s wrist, and Ctesippus managed to graze
Eumaeus’s shoulder above his shield; but the spear went on and fell to
the ground. Then Ulysses and his men let drive into the crowd of
suitors. Ulysses hit Eurydamas, Telemachus Amphimedon, and Eumaeus
Polybus. After this the stockman hit Ctesippus in the breast, and
taunted him saying, “Foul-mouthed son of Polytherses, do not be so
foolish as to talk wickedly another time, but let heaven direct your
speech, for the gods are far stronger than men. I make you a present
of this advice to repay you for the foot which you gave Ulysses when
he was begging about in his own house.”
  Thus spoke the stockman, and Ulysses struck the son of Damastor with
a spear in close fight, while Telemachus hit Leocritus son of Evenor
in the belly, and the dart went clean through him, so that he fell
forward full on his face upon the ground. Then Minerva from her seat
on the rafter held up her deadly aegis, and the hearts of the
suitors quailed. They fled to the other end of the court like a herd
of cattle maddened by the gadfly in early summer when the days are
at their longest. As eagle-beaked, crook-taloned vultures from the
mountains swoop down on the smaller birds that cower in flocks upon
the ground, and **** them, for they cannot either fight or fly, and
lookers on enjoy the sport—even so did Ulysses and his men fall
upon the suitors and smite them on every side. They made a horrible
groaning as their brains were being battered in, and the ground
seethed with their blood.
  Leiodes then caught the knees of Ulysses and said, “Ulysses I
beseech you have mercy upon me and spare me. I never wronged any of
the women in your house either in word or deed, and I tried to stop
the others. I saw them, but they would not listen, and now they are
paying for their folly. I was their sacrificing priest; if you ****
me, I shall die without having done anything to deserve it, and
shall have got no thanks for all the good that I did.”
  Ulysses looked sternly at him and answered, “If you were their
sacrificing priest, you must have prayed many a time that it might
be long before I got home again, and that you might marry my wife
and have children by her. Therefore you shall die.”
  With these words he picked up the sword that Agelaus had dropped
when he was being killed, and which was lying upon the ground. Then he
struck Leiodes on the back of his neck, so that his head fell
rolling in the dust while he was yet speaking.
  The minstrel Phemius son of Terpes—he who had been forced by the
suitors to sing to them—now tried to save his life. He was standing
near towards the trap door, and held his lyre in his hand. He did
not know whether to fly out of the cloister and sit down by the
altar of Jove that was in the outer court, and on which both Laertes

Thus did he speak, and they all held their peace throughout the
covered cloister, enthralled by the charm of his story, till presently
Alcinous began to speak.
  “Ulysses,” said he, “now that you have reached my house I doubt
not you will get home without further misadventure no matter how
much you have suffered in the past. To you others, however, who come
here night after night to drink my choicest wine and listen to my
bard, I would insist as follows. Our guest has already packed up the
clothes, wrought gold, and other valuables which you have brought
for his acceptance; let us now, therefore, present him further, each
one of us, with a large tripod and a cauldron. We will recoup
ourselves by the levy of a general rate; for private individuals
cannot be expected to bear the burden of such a handsome present.”
  Every one approved of this, and then they went home to bed each in
his own abode. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn,
appeared, they hurried down to the ship and brought their cauldrons
with them. Alcinous went on board and saw everything so securely
stowed under the ship’s benches that nothing could break adrift and
injure the rowers. Then they went to the house of Alcinous to get
dinner, and he sacrificed a bull for them in honour of Jove who is the
lord of all. They set the steaks to grill and made an excellent
dinner, after which the inspired bard, Demodocus, who was a
favourite with every one, sang to them; but Ulysses kept on turning
his eyes towards the sun, as though to hasten his setting, for he
was longing to be on his way. As one who has been all day ploughing
a fallow field with a couple of oxen keeps thinking about his supper
and is glad when night comes that he may go and get it, for it is
all his legs can do to carry him, even so did Ulysses rejoice when the
sun went down, and he at once said to the Phaecians, addressing
himself more particularly to King Alcinous:
  “Sir, and all of you, farewell. Make your drink-offerings and send
me on my way rejoicing, for you have fulfilled my heart’s desire by
giving me an escort, and making me presents, which heaven grant that I
may turn to good account; may I find my admirable wife living in peace
among friends, and may you whom I leave behind me give satisfaction to
your wives and children; may heaven vouchsafe you every good grace,
and may no evil thing come among your people.”
  Thus did he speak. His hearers all of them approved his saying and
agreed that he should have his escort inasmuch as he had spoken
reasonably. Alcinous therefore said to his servant, “Pontonous, mix
some wine and hand it round to everybody, that we may offer a prayer
to father Jove, and speed our guest upon his way.”
  Pontonous mixed the wine and handed it to every one in turn; the
others each from his own seat made a drink-offering to the blessed
gods that live in heaven, but Ulysses rose and placed the double cup
in the hands of queen Arete.
  “Farewell, queen,” said he, “henceforward and for ever, till age and
death, the common lot of mankind, lay their hands upon you. I now take
my leave; be happy in this house with your children, your people,
and with king Alcinous.”
  As he spoke he crossed the threshold, and Alcinous sent a man to
conduct him to his ship and to the sea shore. Arete also sent some
maid servants with him—one with a clean shirt and cloak, another to
carry his strong-box, and a third with corn and wine. When they got to
the water side the crew took these things and put them on board,
with all the meat and drink; but for Ulysses they spread a rug and a
linen sheet on deck that he might sleep soundly in the stern of the
ship. Then he too went on board and lay down without a word, but the
crew took every man his place and loosed the hawser from the pierced
stone to which it had been bound. Thereon, when they began rowing
out to sea, Ulysses fell into a deep, sweet, and almost deathlike
slumber.
  The ship bounded forward on her way as a four in hand chariot
flies over the course when the horses feel the whip. Her prow curveted
as it were the neck of a stallion, and a great wave of dark blue water
seethed in her wake. She held steadily on her course, and even a
falcon, swiftest of all birds, could not have kept pace with her.
Thus, then, she cut her way through the water. carrying one who was as
cunning as the gods, but who was now sleeping peacefully, forgetful of
all that he had suffered both on the field of battle and by the
waves of the weary sea.
  When the bright star that heralds the approach of dawn began to
show. the ship drew near to land. Now there is in Ithaca a haven of
the old merman Phorcys, which lies between two points that break the
line of the sea and shut the harbour in. These shelter it from the
storms of wind and sea that rage outside, so that, when once within
it, a ship may lie without being even moored. At the head of this
harbour there is a large olive tree, and at no distance a fine
overarching cavern sacred to the nymphs who are called Naiads. There
are mixing-bowls within it and wine-jars of stone, and the bees hive
there. Moreover, there are great looms of stone on which the nymphs
weave their robes of sea purple—very curious to see—and at all times
there is water within it. It has two entrances, one facing North by
which mortals can go down into the cave, while the other comes from
the South and is more mysterious; mortals cannot possibly get in by
it, it is the way taken by the gods.
  Into this harbour, then, they took their ship, for they knew the
place, She had so much way upon her that she ran half her own length
on to the shore; when, however, they had landed, the first thing
they did was to lift Ulysses with his rug and linen sheet out of the
ship, and lay him down upon the sand still fast asleep. Then they took
out the presents which Minerva had persuaded the Phaeacians to give
him when he was setting out on his voyage homewards. They put these
all together by the root of the olive tree, away from the road, for
fear some passer by might come and steal them before Ulysses awoke;
and then they made the best of their way home again.
  But Neptune did not forget the threats with which he had already
threatened Ulysses, so he took counsel with Jove. “Father Jove,”
said he, “I shall no longer be held in any sort of respect among you
gods, if mortals like the Phaeacians, who are my own flesh and
blood, show such small regard for me. I said I would Ulysses get
home when he had suffered sufficiently. I did not say that he should
never get home at all, for I knew you had already nodded your head
about it, and promised that he should do so; but now they have brought
him in a ship fast asleep and have landed him in Ithaca after
loading him with more magnificent presents of bronze, gold, and
raiment than he would ever have brought back from Troy, if he had
had his share of the spoil and got home without misadventure.”
  And Jove answered, “What, O Lord of the Earthquake, are you
talking about? The gods are by no means wanting in respect for you. It
would be monstrous were they to insult one so old and honoured as
you are. As regards mortals, however, if any of them is indulging in
insolence and treating you disrespectfully, it will always rest with
yourself to deal with him as you may think proper, so do just as you
please.”
  “I should have done so at once,” replied Neptune, “if I were not
anxious to avoid anything that might displease you; now, therefore,
I should like to wreck the Phaecian ship as it is returning from its
escort. This will stop them from escorting people in future; and I
should also like to bury their city under a huge mountain.”
  “My good friend,” answered Jove, “I should recommend you at the very
moment when the people from the city are watching the ship on her way,
to turn it into a rock near the land and looking like a ship. This
will astonish everybody, and you can then bury their city under the
mountain.”
  When earth-encircling Neptune heard this he went to Scheria where
the Phaecians live, and stayed there till the ship, which was making
rapid way, had got close-in. Then he went up to it, turned it into
stone, and drove it down with the flat of his hand so as to root it in
the ground. After this he went away.
  The Phaeacians then began talking among themselves, and one would
turn towards his neighbour, saying, “Bless my heart, who is it that
can have rooted the ship in the sea just as she was getting into port?
We could see the whole of her only moment ago.”
  This was how they talked, but they knew nothing about it; and
Alcinous said, “I remember now the old prophecy of my father. He
said that Neptune would be angry with us for taking every one so
safely over the sea, and would one day wreck a Phaeacian ship as it
was returning from an escort, and bury our city under a high mountain.
This was what my old father used to say, and now it is all coming
true. Now therefore let us all do as I say; in the first place we must
leave off giving people escorts when they come here, and in the next
let us sacrifice twelve picked bulls to Neptune that he may have mercy
upon us, and not bury our city under the high mountain.” When the
people heard this they were afraid and got ready the bulls.
  Thus did the chiefs and rulers of the Phaecians to king Neptune,
standing round his altar; and at the same time Ulysses woke up once
more upon his own soil. He had been so long away that he did not
know it again; moreover, Jove’s daughter Minerva had made it a foggy
day, so that people might not know of his having come, and that she
might tell him everything without either his wife or his fellow
citizens and friends recognizing him until he had taken his revenge
upon the wicked suitors. Everything, therefore, seemed quite different
to him—the long straight tracks, the harbours, the precipices, and
the goodly trees, appeared all changed as he started up and looked
upon his native land. So he smote his thighs with the flat of his
hands and cried aloud despairingly.
  “Alas,” he exclaimed, “among what manner of people am I fallen?
Are they savage and uncivilized or hospitable and humane? Where
shall I put all this treasure, and which way shall I go? I wish I
had stayed over there with the Phaeacians; or I could have gone to
some other great chief who would have been good to me and given me
an escort. As it is I do not know where to put my treasure, and I
cannot leave it here for fear somebody else should get hold of it.
In good truth the chiefs and rulers of the Phaeacians have not been
dealing fairly by me, and have left me in the wrong country; they said
they would take me back to Ithaca and they have not done so: may
Jove the protector of suppliants chastise them, for he watches over
everybody and punishes those who do wrong. Still, I suppose I must
count my goods and see if the crew have gone off with any of them.”
  He counted his goodly coppers and cauldrons, his gold and all his
clothes, but there was nothing missing; still he kept grieving about
not being in his own country, and wandered up and down by the shore of
the sounding sea bewailing his hard fate. Then Minerva came up to
him disguised as a young shepherd of delicate and princely mien,
with a good cloak folded double about her shoulders; she had sandals
on her comely feet and held a javelin in her hand. Ulysses was glad
when he saw her, and went straight up to her.
  “My friend,” said he, “you are the first person whom I have met with
in this country; I salute you, therefore, and beg you to be will
disposed towards me. Protect these my goods, and myself too, for I
embrace your knees and pray to you as though you were a god. Tell
me, then, and tell me truly, what land and country is this? Who are
its inhabitants? Am I on an island, or is this the sea board of some
continent?”
  Minerva answered, “Stranger, you must be very simple, or must have
come from somewhere a long way off, not to know what country this
is. It is a very celebrated place, and everybody knows it East and
West. It is rugged and not a good driving country, but it is by no
means a bid island for what there is of it. It grows any quantity of
corn and also wine, for it is watered both by rain and dew; it
breeds cattle also and goats; all kinds of timber grow here, and there
are watering places where the water never runs dry; so, sir, the
name of Ithaca is known even as far as Troy, which I understand to
be a long way off from this Achaean country.”
  Ulysses was glad at finding himself, as Minerva told him, in his own
country, and he began to answer, but he did not speak the truth, and
made up a lying story in the instinctive wiliness of his heart.
  “I heard of Ithaca,” said he, “when I was in Crete beyond the
seas, and now it seems I have reached it with all these treasures. I
have left as much more behind me for my children, but am flying
because I killed Orsilochus son of Idomeneus, the fleetest runner in
Crete. I killed him because he wanted to rob me of the spoils I had
got from Troy with so much trouble and danger both on the field of
battle and by the waves of the weary sea; he said I had not served his
father loyally at Troy as vassal, but had set myself up as an
independent ruler, so I lay in wait for him and with one of my
followers by the road side, and speared him as he was coming into town
from the country. my It was a very dark night and nobody saw us; it
was not known, therefore, that I had killed him, but as soon as I
had done so I went to a ship and besought the owners, who were
Phoenicians, to take me on board and set me in Pylos or in Elis
where the Epeans rule, giving them as much spoil as satisfied them.
They meant no guile, but the wind drove them off their course, and
we sailed on till we came hither by night. It was all we could do to
get inside the harbour, and none of us said a word about supper though
we wanted it badly, but we all went on shore and lay down just as we
were. I was very tired and fell asleep directly, so they took my goods
out of the ship, and placed them beside me where I was lying upon
the sand. Then they sailed away to Sidonia, and I was left here in
great distress of mind.”
  Such was his story, but Minerva smiled and caressed him with her
hand. Then she took the form of a woman, fair, stately, and wise,
“He must be indeed a shifty lying fellow,” said she, “who could
surpass you in all manner of craft even though you had a god for
your antagonist. Dare-devil that you are, full of guile, unwearying in
deceit, can you not drop your tricks and your instinctive falsehood,
even now that you are in your own country again? We will say no
more, however, about this, for we can both of us deceive upon
occasion—you are the most accomplished counsellor and orator among
all mankind, while I for diplomacy and subtlety have no equal among
the gods. Did you not know Jove’s daughter Minerva—me, who have
been ever with you, who kept watch over you in all your troubles,
and who made the Phaeacians take so great a liking to you? And now,
again, I am come here to talk things over with you, and help you to
hide the treasure I made the Phaeacians give you; I want to tell you
about the troubles that await you in your own house; you have got to
face them, but tell no one, neither man nor woman, that you have
come home again. Bear everything, and put up with every man’s
insolence, without a word.”
  And Ulysses answered, “A man, goddess, may know a great deal, but
you are so constantly changing your appearance that when he meets
you it is a hard matter for him to know whether it is you or not. This
much, however, I know exceedingly well; you were very kind to me as
long as we Achaeans were fighting before Troy, but from the day on
which we went on board ship after having sacked the city of Priam, and
heaven dispersed us—from that day, Minerva, I saw no more of you, and
cannot ever remember your coming to my ship to help me in a
difficulty; I had to wander on sick and sorry till the gods
delivered me from evil and I reached the city of the Phaeacians, where
you en

Nature teaches us our tongue again
And the swift sentences came pat. I came
Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn.
And I seethed with language - Henry at
Harfleur and Agincourt came apt for war
In Ireland and the Middle East. Here was
The riddling and right tongue, the feeling words
Solid and dutiful. Aspiring hope
Met purpose in "advantages" and "He
That fights with me today shall be my brother."
Say this is patriotic, out of date.
But you are wrong. It never is too late

For nights of stars and feet that move to an
Iambic measure; all who clapped were linked,
The theatre is our treasury and too,
Our study, school-room, house where mercy is

Dispensed with justice. Shakespeare has the mood
And draws the music from the dullest heart.
This is our birthright, speeches for the dumb
And unaccomplished. Henry has the words
For grief and we learn how to tell of death
With dignity. "All was as cold" she said
"As any stone" and so, we who lacked scope
For big or little deaths, increase, grow up
To purposes and means to face events
Of cruelty, stupidity. I walked
Fast under stars. The Avon wandered on
"Tomorrow and tomorrow". Words aren't worn
Out in this place but can renew our tongue,
Flesh out our feeling, make us apt for life.

Then Mercury of Cyllene summoned the ghosts of the suitors, and in
his hand he held the fair golden wand with which he seals men’s eyes
in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases; with this he roused the
ghosts and led them, while they followed whining and gibbering
behind him. As bats fly squealing in the hollow of some great cave,
when one of them has fallen out of the cluster in which they hang,
even so did the ghosts whine and squeal as Mercury the healer of
sorrow led them down into the dark abode of death. When they had
passed the waters of Oceanus and the rock Leucas, they came to the
gates of the sun and the land of dreams, whereon they reached the
meadow of asphodel where dwell the souls and shadows of them that
can labour no more.
  Here they found the ghost of Achilles son of Peleus, with those of
Patroclus, Antilochus, and Ajax, who was the finest and handsomest man
of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus himself.
  They gathered round the ghost of the son of Peleus, and the ghost of
Agamemnon joined them, sorrowing bitterly. Round him were gathered
also the ghosts of those who had perished with him in the house of
Aeisthus; and the ghost of Achilles spoke first.
  “Son of Atreus,” it said, “we used to say that Jove had loved you
better from first to last than any other hero, for you were captain
over many and brave men, when we were all fighting together before
Troy; yet the hand of death, which no mortal can escape, was laid upon
you all too early. Better for you had you fallen at Troy in the
hey-day of your renown, for the Achaeans would have built a mound over
your ashes, and your son would have been heir to your good name,
whereas it has now been your lot to come to a most miserable end.”
  “Happy son of Peleus,” answered the ghost of Agamemnon, “for
having died at Troy far from Argos, while the bravest of the Trojans
and the Achaeans fell round you fighting for your body. There you
lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all huge and hugely, heedless
now of your chivalry. We fought the whole of the livelong day, nor
should we ever have left off if Jove had not sent a hurricane to
stay us. Then, when we had borne you to the ships out of the fray,
we laid you on your bed and cleansed your fair skin with warm water
and with ointments. The Danaans tore their hair and wept bitterly
round about you. Your mother, when she heard, came with her immortal
nymphs from out of the sea, and the sound of a great wailing went
forth over the waters so that the Achaeans quaked for fear. They would
have fled panic-stricken to their ships had not wise old Nestor
whose counsel was ever truest checked them saying, ‘Hold, Argives, fly
not sons of the Achaeans, this is his mother coming from the sea
with her immortal nymphs to view the body of her son.’
  “Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans feared no more. The daughters of
the old man of the sea stood round you weeping bitterly, and clothed
you in immortal raiment. The nine muses also came and lifted up
their sweet voices in lament—calling and answering one another; there
was not an Argive but wept for pity of the dirge they chaunted. Days
and nights seven and ten we mourned you, mortals and immortals, but on
the eighteenth day we gave you to the flames, and many a fat sheep
with many an ox did we slay in sacrifice around you. You were burnt in
raiment of the gods, with rich resins and with honey, while heroes,
horse and foot, clashed their armour round the pile as you were
burning, with the ***** as of a great multitude. But when the flames
of heaven had done their work, we gathered your white bones at
daybreak and laid them in ointments and in pure wine. Your mother
brought us a golden vase to hold them—gift of Bacchus, and work of
Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of
Patroclus who had gone before you, and separate we enclosed also those
of Antilochus, who had been closer to you than any other of your
comrades now that Patroclus was no more.
  “Over these the host of the Argives built a noble tomb, on a point
jutting out over the open Hellespont, that it might be seen from far
out upon the sea by those now living and by them that shall be born
hereafter. Your mother begged prizes from the gods, and offered them
to be contended for by the noblest of the Achaeans. You must have been
present at the funeral of many a hero, when the young men gird
themselves and make ready to contend for prizes on the death of some
great chieftain, but you never saw such prizes as silver-footed Thetis
offered in your honour; for the gods loved you well. Thus even in
death your fame, Achilles, has not been lost, and your name lives
evermore among all mankind. But as for me, what solace had I when
the days of my fighting were done? For Jove willed my destruction on
my return, by the hands of Aegisthus and those of my wicked wife.”
  Thus did they converse, and presently Mercury came up to them with
the ghosts of the suitors who had been killed by Ulysses. The ghosts
of Agamemnon and Achilles were astonished at seeing them, and went
up to them at once. The ghost of Agamemnon recognized Amphimedon son
of Melaneus, who lived in Ithaca and had been his host, so it began to
talk to him.
  “Amphimedon,” it said, “what has happened to all you fine young men-
all of an age too—that you are come down here under the ground? One
could pick no finer body of men from any city. Did Neptune raise his
winds and waves against you when you were at sea, or did your
enemies make an end of you on the mainland when you were
cattle-lifting or sheep-stealing, or while fighting in defence of
their wives and city? Answer my question, for I have been your
guest. Do you not remember how I came to your house with Menelaus,
to persuade Ulysses to join us with his ships against Troy? It was a
whole month ere we could resume our voyage, for we had hard work to
persuade Ulysses to come with us.”
  And the ghost of Amphimedon answered, “Agamemnon, son of Atreus,
king of men, I remember everything that you have said, and will tell
you fully and accurately about the way in which our end was brought
about. Ulysses had been long gone, and we were courting his wife,
who did not say point blank that she would not marry, nor yet bring
matters to an end, for she meant to compass our destruction: this,
then, was the trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in
her room and began to work on an enormous piece of fine needlework.
‘Sweethearts,’ said she, ‘Ulysses is indeed dead, still, do not
press me to marry again immediately; wait—for I would not have my
skill in needlework perish unrecorded—till I have completed a pall
for the hero Laertes, against the time when death shall take him. He
is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out
without a pall.’ This is what she said, and we assented; whereupon
we could see her working upon her great web all day long, but at night
she would unpick the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in
this way for three years without our finding it out, but as time
wore on and she was now in her fourth year, in the waning of moons and
many days had been accomplished, one of her maids who knew what she
was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work,
so she had to finish it whether she would or no; and when she showed
us the robe she had made, after she had had it washed, its splendour
was as that of the sun or moon.
  “Then some malicious god conveyed Ulysses to the upland farm where
his swineherd lives. Thither presently came also his son, returning
from a voyage to Pylos, and the two came to the town when they had
hatched their plot for our destruction. Telemachus came first, and
then after him, accompanied by the swineherd, came Ulysses, clad in
rags and leaning on a staff as though he were some miserable old
beggar. He came so unexpectedly that none of us knew him, not even the
older ones among us, and we reviled him and threw things at him. He
endured both being struck and insulted without a word, though he was
in his own house; but when the will of Aegis-bearing Jove inspired
him, he and Telemachus took the armour and hid it in an inner chamber,
bolting the doors behind them. Then he cunningly made his wife offer
his bow and a quantity of iron to be contended for by us ill-fated
suitors; and this was the beginning of our end, for not one of us
could string the bow—nor nearly do so. When it was about to reach the
hands of Ulysses, we all of us shouted out that it should not be given
him, no matter what he might say, but Telemachus insisted on his
having it. When he had got it in his hands he strung it with ease
and sent his arrow through the iron. Then he stood on the floor of the
cloister and poured his arrows on the ground, glaring fiercely about
him. First he killed Antinous, and then, aiming straight before him,
he let fly his deadly darts and they fell thick on one another. It was
plain that some one of the gods was helping them, for they fell upon
us with might and main throughout the cloisters, and there was a
hideous sound of groaning as our brains were being battered in, and
the ground seethed with our blood. This, Agamemnon, is how we came
by our end, and our bodies are lying still un-cared for in the house
of Ulysses, for our friends at home do not yet know what has happened,
so that they cannot lay us out and wash the black blood from our
wounds, making moan over us according to the offices due to the
departed.”
  “Happy Ulysses, son of Laertes,” replied the ghost of Agamemnon,
“you are indeed blessed in the possession of a wife endowed with
such rare excellence of understanding, and so faithful to her wedded
lord as Penelope the daughter of Icarius. The fame, therefore, of
her virtue shall never die, and the immortals shall compose a song
that shall be welcome to all mankind in honour of the constancy of
Penelope. How far otherwise was the wickedness of the daughter of
Tyndareus who killed her lawful husband; her song shall be hateful
among men, for she has brought disgrace on all womankind even on the
good ones.”
  Thus did they converse in the house of Hades deep down within the
bowels of the earth. Meanwhile Ulysses and the others passed out of
the town and soon reached the fair and well-tilled farm of Laertes,
which he had reclaimed with infinite labour. Here was his house,
with a lean-to running all round it, where the slaves who worked for
him slept and sat and ate, while inside the house there was an old
Sicel woman, who looked after him in this his country-farm. When
Ulysses got there, he said to his son and to the other two:
  “Go to the house, and **** the best pig that you can find for
dinner. Meanwhile I want to see whether my father will know me, or
fail to recognize me after so long an absence.”
  He then took off his armour and gave it to Eumaeus and Philoetius,
who went straight on to the house, while he turned off into the
vineyard to make trial of his father. As he went down into the great
orchard, he did not see Dolius, nor any of his sons nor of the other
bondsmen, for they were all gathering thorns to make a fence for the
vineyard, at the place where the old man had told them; he therefore
found his father alone, hoeing a vine. He had on a ***** old shirt,
patched and very shabby; his legs were bound round with thongs of
oxhide to save him from the brambles, and he also wore sleeves of
leather; he had a goat skin cap on his head, and was looking very
woe-begone. When Ulysses saw him so worn, so old and full of sorrow,
he stood still under a tall pear tree and began to weep. He doubted
whether to embrace him, kiss him, and tell him all about his having
come home, or whether he should first question him and see what he
would say. In the end he deemed it best to be crafty with him, so in
this mind he went up to his father, who was bending down and digging
about a plant.
  “I see, sir,” said Ulysses, “that you are an excellent gardener-
what pains you take with it, to be sure. There is not a single
plant, not a fig tree, vine, olive, pear, nor flower bed, but bears
the trace of your attention. I trust, however, that you will not be
offended if I say that you take better care of your garden than of
yourself. You are old, unsavoury, and very meanly clad. It cannot be
because you are idle that your master takes such poor care of you,
indeed your face and figure have nothing of the slave about them,
and proclaim you of noble birth. I should have said that you were
one of those who should wash well, eat well, and lie soft at night
as old men have a right to do; but tell me, and tell me true, whose
bondman are you, and in whose garden are you working? Tell me also
about another matter. Is this place that I have come to really Ithaca?
I met a man just now who said so, but he was a dull fellow, and had
not the patience to hear my story out when I was asking him about an
old friend of mine, whether he was still living, or was already dead
and in the house of Hades. Believe me when I tell you that this man
came to my house once when I was in my own country and never yet did
any stranger come to me whom I liked better. He said that his family
came from Ithaca and that his father was Laertes, son of Arceisius.
I received him hospitably, making him welcome to all the abundance
of my house, and when he went away I gave him all customary
presents. I gave him seven talents of fine gold, and a cup of solid
silver with flowers chased upon it. I gave him twelve light cloaks,
and as many pieces of tapestry; I also gave him twelve cloaks of
single fold, twelve rugs, twelve fair mantles, and an equal number
of shirts. To all this I added four good looking women skilled in
all useful arts, and I let him take his choice.”
  His father shed tears and answered, “Sir, you have indeed come to
the country that you have named, but it is fallen into the hands of
wicked people. All this wealth of presents has been given to no
purpose. If you could have found your friend here alive in Ithaca,
he would have entertained you hospitably and would have required
your presents amply when you left him—as would have been only right
considering what you have already given him. But tell me, and tell
me true, how many years is it since you entertained this guest—my
unhappy son, as ever was? Alas! He has perished far from his own
country; the fishes of the sea have eaten him, or he has fallen a prey
to the birds and wild beasts of some continent. Neither his mother,
nor I his father, who were his parents, could throw our arms about him
and wrap him in his shroud, nor could his excellent and richly dowered
wife Penelope bewail her husband as was natural upon his death bed,
and close his eyes according to the offices due to the departed. But
now, tell me truly for I want to know. Who and whence are you—tell me
of your town and parents? Where is the ship lying that has brought you
and your men to Ithaca? Or were you a passenger on some other man’s
ship, and those who brought you here have gone on their way and left
you?”
  “I will tell you everything,” answered Ulysses, “quite truly. I come
from Alybas, where I have a fine house. I am son of king Apheidas, who
is the son of Polypemon. My own name is Eperitus; heaven drove me
off my course as I was leaving Sicania, and I have been carried here
against my will. As for my ship it is lying over yonder, off the
open country outside the town, and this is the fifth year since
Ulysses left my country. Poor fellow, yet the omens were good for
him when he left me. The birds all flew on our right hands, and both
he and I rejoiced to see them as we parted, for we had every hope that
we should have another friendly meeting and exchange presents.”
  A dark cloud of sorrow fell upon Laertes as he listened. He filled
both hands with the dust from off the ground and poured it over his
grey head, groaning heavily as he did so. The heart of Ulysses was
touched, and his nostrils quivered as he looked upon his father;
then he sprang towards him, flung his arms about him and kissed him,
saying, “I am he, father, about whom you are asking—I have returned
after having been away for twe

Sands traverse oceans to envelop me
within the coercion of a dream of Egypt
as I search the turquoise of the medallion in my hands
to match the gray-blue of his eyes.

Too long have I willed for him
to sail the Atlantic,
stride through the door,
and sweep me from haunting this view of London.
But for now I am left
to my own image and a pane,
so I muster the meat of my palm
within this sleeve of lace
to brush it across the glass for a clearer look,
yet my efforts have revealed
no more than engorged eyelids reflected…
manacles of me.

Behest of self,
maniacal I am slated
to perform involuntary tedium,
hopeful to unlock deeper meaning
within each hieroglyph,
once so purposefully etched in a semblance of bronze.

I long to surrender
to the warmth of the taste of iron
caught in his sights over a tomb blanketed in gold.

I will come for you, Daughter of Heaven and Earth.

Spontaneous peristalsis of phrase
connects with the drop
gurgling through the candid quiet
and I wonder
if the image that now reflects would indulge him,
or if he might ****** the lock of dark hair
that he cropped from my neck with the skill of an assassin
when our paths first crossed in Cairo.

Time has softened the image I hold of him;
his eyes are satin,
burning like a flag still waving
as his army advances over our forbidden dig.

There is something
sensation-like in downfall…
copious saline embodies the fractal curve.

I found no scrolls of the Book of the Dead.

Here in my olive skin I rot like a peach
that’s been left in a satchel
forgotten to dust of the ages
disturbed by picks and axes
that strike with the determination of discovery.
A peach, never to be savored;
never to nourish or to pleasure,
or be trampled by insects
and carried off in pieces
to the hollow of the ant queen.

My eyelids are hard to turn like wet pages
forced to envision a river that is not the Nile
where I am held within the binds of propriety,
corsetted, bustled, and locked out of Egypt
dammed from the salvation
of even an intermittent Dutchman’s finger
by dunes and shores and footfalls
to find words that stream in liquid resonance
where firm succumbs to self and
I can feel passion writhing through my intangibles.

Thusly, clouds form over a city that blackens and distorts
the way a river's reflection of my face
would ripple from the plunging body of a dove,
belly-up, encased in wings,
and two thousand miles from him.

Arousal is a moccasin seethed in spasms
of peristalsis and musculature
toward the beckoning pulse of breast.

Any hope for contact collapses into flesh,
venom sheathes each corpuscle,
and a woken neck flails in judgment
before the truth in his eyes
under the shadow of the Great Pyramid
where Ramses II lies supine
across the Turin Papyrus.

I imagine the other side of me
and where she might reflect when
all that there is in such a study
contributes to my wanting
to wreak my bellied freedom
beneath crevices that sink as crevices do
in downward angled layers
to withstand the ages.

Dark hair gleams in contrast,
more for strip of scalp
than the trickle of red down my back.

Breached like sugar that candid—
starburst wings of Monarchs dripping ancient like sunsets
over magenta and milky mauve in the reeds—
my ankles revealed and inverted to the sky they glean, yet...

his arrival is delayed
when the pistol ***** three times.
The still of my breast compounds
with the steady union of the dark, and
somewhere denial flows with the sands.

So cycles change, like a fable for Eternal.

“Daughter of Heaven and Earth,” written by Dionne Charlet, appears in print in Cairo by Gaslight, the second anthology in the By Gaslight Series from New Orleans small press Black Tome Books.  Books in the series include New Orleans by Gaslight (ISBN 9780615801186) and Cairo by Gaslight (ISBN 9781516961528).  Both collections feature poetry by Charlet, under the pseudonym Dionne Cherie. Look for the upcoming anthology Paris by Gaslight, which will feature a poem of the same title by Dionne.

Washed ashore
By the angry ebb
Of lost Atlantis,
The ocean brims
In liquid Jade
And grains of gold.

The sun won't sleep
Under the blanket
Of the vast horizon,
But dances with
The velvet moon
At heaven's feet.

Divine rays pierce
The prismic clouds
Bleeding spectrum,
Rain that seethed
At the apex
Of nature's bossom.

They gushed forth
Like raging horses
To a thirsty basin,
That slithered down
The silver rivers
And shallow streams.

Neon vines
Creep in the floor
Of the sleeping forest
Cradled by the songs
Of Mockingjays
And willow dryads.

The zephyr hums
A joyful song
In the laughing thickets
As flowers bloom
Like newborn stars
In the undergrowth.

In the mellow heart
Of the deep forest
A *****'s cry
Echoed woes
Of the hidden land
And its deadly curse.

The match struck and I ignited,
My heart melted like strong cheddar cheese
Bubbling,
with juvenile hope.
You taught me how to nurture my smile -
Let it run free.
You were the guide who helped me relocate
my laugh that got lost somewhere
on the left side of my brain

Now,
Every time my smile tries to fade,
Like comfort food seeping
through my punctured happiness,
Your fondue jokes take me back to that day,
like the burning cheese
that seethed into love.

I tore it down
All of it
Everything that resembled Mr. Brown

His clothes are in trash bags
The decor in pieces
Desecrated all of his flags

"Mr. Brown, don't ever show your face around,
or I'll put you in a coffin." I said
He looked confused as I pronounced Bob Marley lyrics in a way profound

" I do not blame you, but myself,
for the day you came in
I put my soul on a shelf"

"You are contorted and misconstrued
there is nothing but darkness
in the life around you"

He seethed with fury.
The kind I had when I was a child
He spoke shortly, yet with a dramatic flurry.

" You may send me away," he spat
I tried to contain my fear
"But you know as well as I do, I'll return and it won't be for a chat"

A sudden calm washed over me.
And I said with a devious smile
"Last time I let you. The next time I won't let be"

His coal black eyes perfectly matched his mouth; agape
as he stood stunned. A painting of disbelief.
I escorted him to the exit and sealed it with duct tape

*because duct tape fixes everything

Your impassioned ****** blabber, a primordial prompt,
the seed, swelled,seethed feverishly for a while, sprouted
then surged in to a sea of love with all the intensity mustered
we drowned in that flood; there was only the sea of bliss.

Ten years shy of our interlude
You watching me punching you.
First impressions were insude.
Who would have thought they would have lasted as long as you?
Hardened shells
Never crack
Passing notes
Hear you laugh.
Searching hallways
Looking back
See your face
Give me that.
A casualty of a hacky sack.
Keeping face and holding back.
Hug me tight
Apology
You won't see a single tear from me.
Turned your back away from me
Never wanting comforting
Especially from the likes of me.
Hugging back
Selflessly
Making you see this isn't me.
Highschool drama
**** those llamas
Keeping rage to a tolerable somber.
Pretending not to see you leave
So far away from my company.
Feeling others pulling me
Away from your integrity
Intentions made so violently
Trying to hate you
Have you forgetting me.
Angry notes are pushing
You farther and farther away from me.
Making us complicating
Something as simple as you and me.
**** this ****
I want this
Complicate me with our trust.
Let me be the one you dance with
When there are others you dismiss.
Passing up what could have been our first kiss.
Day of love
The day I hate
Who needs a valentine?
It could **** my taint.
Down the hall behind your back
A little flower
Now I'm trapped.
Handing it to me
Watching a smile grow widely.
Making my words into hypocrisy
Now they know I'm a girl and see
How you're cracking every bit of me?
Kissing cheeks
Make us blush
Never stopping our blood from the rush.
Holding hands
Intertwined
Finishing sentences
Reading minds.
It almost felt like you were mine
Before life parted us with time.
Far away
Computer screens
Catching up
Living things
Watching you love and letting you be
At least we had the memories.
Fell into some habits
So did you.
What is our lives coming to?
Feeling the shells harden again
Please don't break it
Let me pretend
You don't see me on this end.
You won't be proud of the things I did.
Fall off planets
Wedding bands
Stand at attention
No longer in each other's plans.
Seeing the world is the latest trend.
Asian continent
Back on earth we land
What are the odds
Of you planting your legs where I stand?
Aisle walks
Who's at the end?
Selecting food with a friend.
Stand like a statue
As I ascend
Hardly believing we're breathing the same oxygen.
Did you shake?
When I wrapped my hands
Around your back
Am I an illusion?
Miles from home
And I found my friend.
Bring my songs back to life
Thinking we've change
Together that's a lie.
There's much to do about nothing
To pick up where we left off back then.
The mold I'm squeezing myself in
You trying to keep yourself busy
Any excuse to have a run in meeting.
Find religion
No, but you'll spend time with me.
Watch me do some mormoning.
Maybe come over for some holidays
See the part where I'm cooking things.
Confiding in you that I hate Christmas
And you full heartedly agree.
It's not that bad though on the couch reminiscing.
Pull out year books and point out people
Together hating
What have you been up to since leaving me?
I love long stories
They won't bother me.
Once again fingers entangling.
Almost forgetting to whom I'm belonging.
Don't remind me of what I'm craving.
Here...look at these girls
They're all that you need.
The attention you give me only makes me think.
FHE hide and seek
Sit in my car
Listen to me sink
Oh, you met someone
Isn't that neat?
She makes you laugh
She helps you feel less lonely.
It wasn't until you had us meet
That my inner envy began to creep.
That night before deploying...
Even in front of her
You saying that you loved me.
And I believing it being more than friendly.
6 months out
Desert sands
Losing someone you thought you had
On both of our ends.
Ask advice
The hell if I know
The same thing is happening to me.
I wish it wasn't how it came to be.
A matter of time before you return to me.
Work day
In my registers place
I'm the first you choose to chase
And in response I jump to your embrace.
Relieved you came back in safety.
You came back home
And my home came back to me.
Darken sidewalks
Hand in hand
Tell me how you spent your time in the sand
Your place now
And I confess
There's things I feel
Parts of you I missed.
Expecting you to call me out
It's not fidelity if I say it out loud.
And yet you don't
You mimic me
Telling that you had been missing
Me.
At least we know
We said our peace
No further even though our doors are opening.
Don't swing wide
Don't let me feel your breeze.
Just one toe in
That's all I need.
Game of thrones
Barrack rooms
Wondering what I said to you
Just lay down
Don't go too far
Non make out session
Our hearts pound hard.
I'm on top
My face too close
Touching lips
The story goes
It's you and me
Staring
Can't believing it to be happening.
Just this once and then no more
Kissing as if we never had before.
Trying hard as hell to not want more.
All convictions to the floor
Loving each other like there's a settle to score.
But it doesn't count if you don't say
That you love me in anyway.
Let's keep it casual, I say.
Let's try to stop this all today.
Going out
Drinking scene
I'm trying to look pretty.
And you always look good
In whatever you throw on
Inebriated I try to make you sing a song.
Go out for some air
Let the drinks speak for me
Telling you I love you right then and there
Regardless of whoever could hear.
Moving too fast but I didn't care
If I lost you again at least of have it out there.
Drink me up into your cares
I'd rather be here than where I came
While you tell me you love me all the same.
It's probably wrong for both of us to say
But we've know it too long to be too ashamed.
Let someone else take the blame
Of constantly getting in the way.
Evenings spent in each other's sway
Till he calls or we get too carried away.
Not letting me go home just yet
Don't leave me alone
Don't make me forget
The places I've kissed on your neck.
Crevices discovered
New places of wonder
In and outside of those covers
No control
Let's leave the room
In the zone
Inhale those smoking fumes
Stupid smiles
To one another
They all knew about us and each other
The lust branded us both lovers
Except for that certain act
We broke ourselves not to rein act.
Kissing can be forgiven
But that sure as hell can't
Only when we belong to each other
Would we ever do that.
When and not if
After all of this
We felt too much with every kiss.
Placing each other in each future scenario
Naming kids and watching them grow
In our heads.
Plucking out names as we star gazed
Debating on waiting or straight away
Having our perfect family.
Talking of sharing our lives alone
But we weren't alone.
Knocks on the door
Back home there was met
Someone who found out our little secret.
Confronted
Turns out that I was actually wanted
Could have fool me by his quiet neglect
And we were both being treated like back stabbing suspects.
And that's when the guilt in me crept.
Stronger than I, you stood your ground.
Feeling bad for the conflict but not for being around.
Wanting to protect me from every sound
Of rage and breaking hearted rebound.
And after that it was like a divorcing trial
He'd have me all week and then you on the weekend but only for a little while.
Trying to keep myself going wild
Trying have both of you smile.
Stupid me
Now I see
I'm not the kind of person meant for sharing.
Back and forth and still I'd be
Exposed to 360 degrees of jealousy.
And on top of that you were leaving me.
Not deliberately
Not intentionally
Not wanting
To see me fade away into nothing.
Do our time
Make it count
Get the claw and pull nemo out.
******* there's a gloomy bear?
10 more tokens then we're there.
Photo booth
Print it clear
That we happened. We were here.
Walk a trail and find a tower
Watch the sunset from the water.
Skip those rocks until I get it right
We were always worth the fight
For any of those memories to see the light.
Knowing though right now can't be
Someday you ask to marry me
I've been asked that before
And you see where that got me
You don't blame me for the disbelief
And your ever hopeful eyes still plead
Never thinking back in spite
The things we felt on your last night.
Folding socks
Packing tight
Kissing time away that night.
Interrupted
And I left
Feeling so in completed.
Watch the clock before you take off
I need to make it now or not
Walk right through the terminal doors
And all of your resolve plummeted to the floor.
One last time and then no more.
It's hard enough to say goodbye
I can't do it when you have tears in your eyes
Trying hard to hold back mine
All we wanted was a little more time.
We always joked of how
Hours went by like seconds now
God allowed time to slow
When you're feeling miserable.
In the line
Watch you fly
Now it's only me, myself and I.
Hoping one of us can keep our memories
As my tangible one fade away from me.
Try again to recommitting
To the one I left hanging.
Trying to still be in your mind
But letting go to prove him right.
Then he left me high and dry
Should have saw that coming as soon as you took flight.
Hoping you put me from your sight
Burn my letters and live your life right.
While I deny myself the right and mine
Thinking I deserve it for my crime.
Breaking 3 hearts including mine.
Pass the time
I need to be better
I need to follow his life to the letter
Thinking I don't deserve much better
The one who you had wants out but I won't let her.
Feels like I waited forever.
Reconnected the line to the wrong receiver.
Thought I had done what I thought was best
Hearing your voice say those words and I couldn't contest
With your distance and your suppressed
Empathy for my distress.
It's the undeniable consequences.
Let myself fall of the surface
Breaking ties
Become the enemy
Become the very kind of person
I spent my life loathing.
Prey upon those who'd believe
All the pretty words I'd seethed.
Who knew it could be this easy
To make someone else fall in love with me?
Faceless guys who tripped to see
Any kind of attention from me.
Getting drunk every evening
Just to **** the part of me with feeling.
Touch me want me kiss me taunt me
Think you've made me the one who's wanting?
And then the prodigal boy who bounced me
Came back when he saw what I was flaunting.
You would have rolled your eyes at me
With everything that I was portraying.
Going back to the way I was playing.
In my defense I wasn't thinking.
About him.
About you.
About myself or what I had to do.
Deny the basic human right
To feel some happiness
To feel alive.
Take the bottle and the pills
Waking up the next morning
Disappointment with a side of chills.
At least it was a wake up call
Trying to control it all
If I was going to let myself fall
I didn't want to inconvenience anyone at all.
Play the part
Say the words
Live the lie
Make it work
Made my plans
Aligned with his
Come back home and he leaves again.
Knowing in the back of my head
You were somewhere else
And you lived.
Maybe someone was warming your bed.
Last we spoke, someone did.
Trying to keep my space again
I'd done enough as it is
For you to want to see my face again.
So I had thought
And I did.
You were waiting for my message.
Even if it was just as friends.
Facebook stalking
We both admit
We'd do it weekly until one of us
Started talking.
Passing thoughts
Wait for an update
Profile pictures
Changing
I kept taking more and more
Note on your tagged photos
Wondering who took those.
Did you still have the ones I took?
When you were alone and thinking
Did you have a look?
Did you ever think of me?
Why the hell aren't you messaging?
Then I, with silence breaking
"Hey there stranger...."
Message seen
Then you said you were willing me
To say those words through the screen.
Find out how you were close to me.
How did I feel about visiting?
Driving three hours to my county
And now to you I'm nervously driving.
Pulling up next to you
*******!
When did he get so huge.
Wait a moment for my breathing to ensue.
Unbuckle, get out and walk to you.
Pulled me in
Was the first thing you do
And the the feeling came rushing through.
Like some ****** on a binge
God, it felt so good to be held again.
Trying to avoid holding hands
Check me out
And I'll check you back
Tease each other
Make me crack
Almost kiss
Pull away
**** this ****
Do it anyways.
Walking in public places
Didn't help the pulsing phases
The time apart didn't diminish the traces
Of the physical draw, we just misplaced it
Maybe we should go back to my place
Watching some film while we look away
Baby, let's not get carried away
Close call
You almost made me fall
Crazy how that felt like no time at all
Till we're back on the same spiral.
Catch a glimpse of my swinging face
Smile now frown now back to our places
It's hard to feel so far away
When I stare at your face through this screen everyday
When I fall asleep to your voice at night
When we speak of drawing first blood
How hott it would be to fight.
Making business meetings
Into merging companies
Telling secrets
Making scenes
Silly faces
Fairly lands
Does it bother you?
It never did.
Trying to make my life less complicated
Convincing me
That the ground your standing
Is the one you claimed
Like planting a flag down in the name of your country.
Come to my door
Pull the beasts away from the floor
Then I'm against the wall
Pick me up
Never letting me fall
First impressions are the best
You say hello in a way if can't contest
Trying to keep the shake from your hands
As you fiddle and press all my buttons
Road trip riots
Scream out windows
Call me maybe?
That poor couple.
Amusement parks are just a perk
We're already amused together with the way we work.
Baby, I love you, turn around!
******* A!
The sloth you found!
My jaw almost hit the ground
I went full ****** just now.
Lemonade ice
Wishing wells
Tattooed dad's
Hands are held
Fight the straw
In your mouth
Remind me of my stature
Elbow on my head
Apologize
Kiss my face instead.
See a family struggling
With capturing their own memory
Tell me to ask and see
If their picture could be taken by me
So shy by your own generosity
I lovingly agree
Sleepy now
Wearing out
First time sleeping all personal.
Promise to stay
Regardless of what's happening?
We don't have to go all the way.
Naked now
If you kiss you lose
Did you kiss me
Or did I kiss you?
Alarm clock ******* up the sleep cycle
Waking up to see you smile
Morning breath
Just give me a little while
Get up from bed
Pull me back down
Put on your shirt
Take it back off now.
Taking care of canine kids
Taking a shower while you sit
Ready to go back on the road
Walgreens, gardens, now my favorite abode.
Secret spot that I show
**** rubbing that tree made me giggle.
On the strip
Arts and crafts store
No, I've never been in there before.
We both enjoy what we see so far.
*******.
They're playing Fast Car.
Stares are swapped
Grins are spread
Sharing that secret
Like we did.
Waiting till that song did end
To head to our next destination.
Walk up hill
Serious talk
Sit on grass
Picture swap
Ninja pose
You're built like a rock.
Find some food
But it's too crowded to walk.
Jason's deli has what we want
Only conflict is the drinks that we bought.
You like mine better?
I like yours too
Problems solved
Let the trade ensue.
Ticking clock
Almost time to leave
Rewinding parts of mr nobody
Trying not to let me see
How much you don't want to leave.
Kiss me like you don't want me to,
******* this kid is making me lose it too.
Get in car
Drive away
Call me soon
Drive home safely
FaceTime ******* us off incessantly
If we were in person
We wouldn't need this ******* thing.
Hardly an hour past, and then
You ask when you can see me again.
Make some plans
Rinse repeat
Tabb throw back
Dairy Queen food endeavor
Food lion **** break
Tim minchins radio doppelgänger
Read my brain
You thought it too
Art museum
I'm gunna get you
Riled up
And frustrated with me
It's hard to walk when in my ear
You're whispering
Do you hear a piano playing?
Let's trek back and see
The master of that melody
Hunting down the elderly
That old guy is you
And the old lady is me
Speaking of our future constantly.
Back to the ride
The glove box won't comply
Get some wire to compromise
Take me to get some shakes and fries
Wandering in the mall's walk lights
Going back across the bridge
My paranoia of the road permits
Squeezing your hand every five minutes.
Relax
Scream and step on the gas
You sure know how to make my brain go lax
Check on the kids
And then pursue
The slumber party
Take two
Messing up the room info
King sized bed
Downgraded to two q

I loved you once,
Although I never had you.
I suppose that's why I wanted you.
As I fly over the Rockies, I can't help but wonder what mountain you and your board caressed.
I saw you there last week in photos.
I know your love for flying with the snow.
As I look down over the land the topography brings me back to our conversation,
You know the one we had in the aisle of best buy in front of the speakers.
I was on my hands and knees and you were looking down at me.
Oh how your gaze would melt my heart.
Those eyes that seethed into my soul with understanding and mutual oldness.
I told you about the topography of the land and its similarity to the structure in our own bodies.
The rivers are our veins, the water our blood.
We find these veins in leaves, in intricate patterns in the mountains, in sediment run off and in lightening.
I tried to make you see what I see,
That we are not separate from nature, but in fact we are nature in a complex and beautiful form.
Intelligent and loving.
I thought I could make you happy,
But you didn't agree.
I'm still so sorry that you never had me.

      L.Cole

The sky was ablaze like glass in the church;
recumbent on stone floors / we had knocked out

the windows to let in only the blind light,
the blind arches that pointed heavenward, now yawning

narcoleptic houses of God grasping at sky and god
somehow / we captured daylight in our hands / we were

yearning for ourselves again between long hours of waiting
we believed in gods that breathed that great sky, we believed

in the breadth of cosmos more dazzling
than the church doors that we blew asunder

in that latter architecture where we decided the height
& breadth of the pillars in their proportions like

the proportions of man, exhausted & exaggerated,
man exalted, exaudi, exaudi, voca meam quam olim Abrahim

praises to all our lords on high, we sang in drunk
communion hailing, our communion with one another,

all of us there on the stone flags, hands in hands
we beat at the chests of each other, the eyes of each other

(we were just kids beating off to one thing or another)
and it was *** and chaos between those stone walls, it captured

us, bewildered us, those yawning heavens under the church ceiling,
the one that blazed with the dazzling color of windows

covered in dust like our skin the way it crept along the stone
and we craved it and the way that it seemed to creep,

the sky seemed to creep above us, seethed with light
some days we didn’t know which way was light, up

or lower down, it was usually easy to tell after you came
but we exhausted our voices, exaudi exaudi orationem meam

believing that something would hear us—we heard ourselves
more clearly in the throes of ******, nothing was more alive

more human, than anything, than anything that sang like that blazing
sky/ so we tossed ourselves forward into lightward, lightness

dazzling ourselves with light / it was the summer of everything closing /
the bewildering truth of our own god in cells and precious molecules

we made god in the throes of ******, worshipping in the dazzling sky
we had to propel ourselves forward, it was our stunning captivation

with that dazzling maze of flesh on the yearning sky, hands
searching inscrutably for hands, for god in the feverish sky, god

who doesn’t live in the sky, the god who climbs
with us, the god who screams in our ****** with us,

exaudi, exaudi, orationem meam, ad te omnes caro veniet…

I was foolish
To believe you
I was foolish
To befriend you
You played me
Emotions and lust
You betrayed me
With lies alone
I had cared
With honest reason
You didn't see
You didn't care
I was angered
I was hurt
My temper released
Why to me
A good "friend"
Did I deserve
This cruel stabbing
You laughed and
Said "*******"
"Gladly, good riddance"
I seethed back
Aching through strength
Suffering through dreams
That was then
This is now
I am stronger
I am better
You will regret
That one day
You lost me
Maybe not today
Maybe not tomorrow
But one day
You will soon
Remember that I
Was the one
Who stuck around
Because I truly
Deeply, sincerely, cared
When that happens
I won't hesitate
To show you
That I am
Better than you

My sister said she felt as though she had been *****
although neither of us had been
and yet both of us were

We each manifested it in our own ways
and in the same ways
The PTSD so characteristic of crimes against
those of our kind

She steered the little blue vehicle
while I charted the course
I argued in favor of what we had become

Through our inner battles our need to have built nuclear bunkers
in our hearts
our fine tuned herd instincts and our prey-like reflexes
Stronger I said, Stronger women we have become

Eyes fixed on the road she seethed

"I am a freak in isolation (as a tea kettle she would have boiled over)
I reach out but cannot, do not, will not touch
do not have the knowledge

to kiss?
to kiss another's lips...
I flinch  I shutter, turn away from and flee

The upper air not clear yet
my heart's bunker I do not leave
forced there, forced there by so many years of wear and tear
I Stay in my dragons keep"

as we on the road drive to the dragon lair
My sister steers
and I, baby sister,
in our noble steed of a powered blue;
I guide us there

- To my sister:
Know that this is just a snapshot in time, a photograph that we will later burn.
That we will soon move on and you my sister. You will always be my guiding Sun.

I was told today
That my life choices
Offend some.
Offend,
The same word my editor used against me
As a precaution
When I told her
That I wanted to write an opinion article
About why Mark David Chapman
Should be released from prison.
I was warned that I would offend some readers,
And that was to be expected.
After all,
It was an opinion piece.

But today I was told
That some of my lifestyle choices offend
And I couldn't help but to ask:
"Which ones?"

At which point this woman lost her **** on me.
"How can you possibly be having relations with a man
So much older than you?
Isn't he graying?
Isn't he...
More mature, intelligent than
You?"

And I felt my world implode.
This woman, this foul, wretched beast with ****
Was openly denouncing
Everything I had built myself on over the last year.
And I could tell this woman
Went home to a white picket fence and
Screaming, spoiled, ******* kids,
And a husband who beat her ***
But was at least in her age range
Every night.

And I seethed.

And I sobbed.

With what wretchedness I took down the notes of the Earth today,
For it continued to turn
Even as I felt myself shattering inside.
How can one be so obsessed,
So offended by another's
Choice in love;
As if I even had a ******* choice
To begin with?

Who's to say
That even though I don't go home
With him every night,
That I don't go home to solace and peace
And all those other ******* things
I could never find
While making out with men my age
Who had whiskey and PBR on their breath
And strong, red cigarettes twisted in their knuckles?

Who is there to say
That love is not present
In our every move, our every caress
During the films we watch every time we see each other?
We watch The Shining and he holds me close
Because jump scares make me scream like a little *****.
We watch Moonrise Kingdom
And I can feel him kiss my cheek,
Making me blush
As he remarks on how we are so much like
Those children on the screen.
So in love.
So innocent.
So tender you could puke.

I have nightmares with every evening-fall
And he dies in each of them,
Making each night a new horror
That I have seen so many times.
I woke up screaming in his bed once
And he was clutching me from behind,
His arms coiling my midsection,
His panicked breath hot on my neck.

You don't cry over scaring someone
You do not love.

He loves video games,
Megaman's his favorite.
When he tells me the stories
Because the games are much too hard for me,
I see his brown, sparking eyes
Alight with a shine of wonder
And I know
He doesn't know that he's a hero in himself,
Much like his little blue childhood
Role model.

My picket fence
Could easily be sufficed
With the balcony of a small apartment
Or a suburban chain-link fence
So long as I know
That I am standing on or behind it
With him at my side.

Twelve years is not a death sentence in love,
Neither is being told that your choices are offensive.

There is a beauty that comes
With courting an older man.
Words flow easier,
Advice is given without judgement.
Arguments are had over
What the **** Alex Hirsch meant with that episode,
Rather than who the hell were you just texting?

I am young.
And I am in love,
The kind I would not mind
Inviting in for the rest of my days.

He is not graying.
He is not a monster.

He is my friend,
My lover,
My partner in crime,
The man I make watch too many Stanley Kubrick and Wes Anderson movies,
My darling,
My sweetheart,
And the light of my life.

I couldn't care less if that offends you.

You could be an antidote,
a place to hide during the summer solstice,
a pair of closed eyelids during nightmares,

you could be the sweater I wore last Christmas,
a frozen hand to hold in the Sahara,
the smell of the ocean at six in the morning,

you could be the overture of a play,
a love seat in a nearby cafe,
the gradient of colours of a twilight,

you could be the sugar in my tea,
the sound of the pouring rain,
a poetry that lasted for ages,

you,
my gruff voiced wallflower,
this I want you to know;
some love seethed,
some stay placid for years.
some lost their spark,
some still felt like their first day.

but we both know love is a test of fidelity,
a voyage that knows no bound,
so take my hand,
take your paddle,
if you'll row with me until sundown,
let us see where the seas will take us.

He sat in the strangest places,
always at the back
of the mahogany slide,
floated in the nicotine-cloud,
wore permanent shades
to hide his killer disease.

One look from him
could rip testicles off,
he foamed at the mouth,
sinned constantly
& sported scars
like racetracks
on his fractured arms.

Gold doubloons filled
the holes
in his rotten
teeth,
he seethed.

Only the fools
made him smile,
& they saw their end
come sooner
than they wanted,
'cause he loved
a great death.

I'm always drawn to the silent kid
Pushed far back in the class.
Grungy hair, never cut back
Flipping his pencil in the air.
I thinks it redeemable that no one knows
Where he came from or where he goes.
It simply goes to show
That he keeps to himself and my curiosity grows.
I don't pine or crush or stalk him though,
I don't know him aside from the hoody logo.
The one he wears days in a row.
And when the teacher called him to speak
His voice was low but hardly meek.
Like a tone that no one hardly shows.
He rarely uses his voice to vocalize prose.
But when he spoke of religious concept
I could hear his sarcastic intellect.
"I don't believe but I accept. It's just a thought of perceptual inept."
That's when I knew I had to neglect
My learning endeavors and speak to this gent.
Inching closer to his desk
I start off slow and ask his opinion of certain text.
He broke his stare and turned it to me
Almost disbelieving I could see past his cloak of invisibility.
Very wary and abruptly short
He told be to turn around.
My brain screamed "abort!"
I lost this one but he was unaware
That we still had a few hours left in there.
And in his silent stubbornness
I simply sat and told him this.
"If William Blake was all devout then in The Tiger why was he calling God out?"
The boy rolled his eyes at me
"Did he who made the lamb make thee?"
Of course he did!
I already knew
That just for a second I was getting through.
"He wants to have the unfailing faith without getting whiny with trials and disbelief."
This took me aback and challengingly seethed,
"If you're defending him then why do you disbelieve?"
He raised his eyebrow in confusion, almost enjoying me
"Hey you're the one who first asked me? Don't ask me a question then mentally ***** at me."
I held back a smile and could instantly see
This shy kid and I would get along perfectly.
The he retorted first asking me,
"You're not some kind of Jesus freak?"
Laughing uncontrollably, I breathed,
"Of course not. Never touched the stuff. Grew up religiously but that was enough. God has my infancy but my adulthood belongs to me."
Then he stopped and looked at me...
I earned a smile
What a blessed sight to see.
And then we sat there together
Silently.
We waited days to exchange names
Though he was my shy kid
And I his crazy dame.
Conversing over theories
And explained
How ours were better.
"No, yours is lame."
We chuckled in the back of class
Quite content for the time to slowly pass
Borrowing pencils
Ripped pages from binded rings
With silent words scribbled
That we were quietly passing.
Never speaking of our other lives
Outside this class of mutual lies.
Just two hours of acceptance thrives.
I use him and he used me
To create a silent under towing
Of our ideas so different and refreshing
It was our home we invented without moving.
This shy kid and I
I can't explain
If you had one to yourself you wouldn't complain.
How honest and blunt you'd never expect them to be.
Go talk to one
You'd be surprised to see.

I know why I could only choke out “thank you”, instead of letting the “I love you”s that seethed in the pit of my stomach overflow through my useless mouth.

I know why I bit my tongue before I could allow my quivering lips to part and sing an aria of "forever"s dedicated to you. I would chew my cheeks to shreds until the taste of blood I yearned for coated the walls of my mouth. I savored the crimson slush, eagerly waiting for you to acknowledge me, your pet.

And when we finally kissed, you could taste the copper tinge on my tongue and the juice that lined my insides. It was a reminder that you’re holding something living. That I’m alive. That other human beings have feelings, and that this insignificant body, clinging to you like a newborn, was bursting with feelings for you.

I don’t know if I should be mad at you for leaving, or at myself for thinking that it would end any other way.

I don’t know how to tango, but I let you guide me with your two left feet for over two years. Now I’m stuck dancing the waltz of forgetting with your ghost. Our casual sways leave space for your name to linger, and every time his phantom hands twirl me around, your scent envelops me.

And I don’t know how I’m still in love with you when you’re in love with her.
I can’t turn that into poetry.
I don’t know how to make it beautiful.

Dalya couldnt even bring herself to be nice to the Yank girl anymore it was as much as she could do to even look at her with her dark hair and eyes and that ******* tight black leather two piece which made her skinnier than a runt and that accent seeming straight out of some American movie and the constant yak about the guys shed had and how that was the worse part the how of it all as if Dalya cared as if she gave a sod about the Yanks love life and that time they showered at the Oslo camp base and the Yank said *** how plump you are like a hippo bathing and she laughed and Dalya gave her a look that would have frozen another more sensitive ***** but no she laughed at Dalya and her so called humour and Dalya would have flicked her towel around the Yanks scrawny **** but another girl passing got in the way and it flicked her **** instead and O did she moan and the Yank ***** walked off swaying if one can sway a backside like hers and was gone or that time when Dalya had been out with a guy called Benny who rode the same mini bus as the Yank and Dalya had got back in the tent real late and the Yank said what time do you call this some of us need our beauty sleep and Dalya said you could sleep for thousand years and still be one heck of an ugly Yank ***** and the Yank stormed out into the night or early morning which ever it was and Dalya lay in her tent trying to sleep after shed gone when Benny creeps in and said the American girls gone in the Aussie guy and is in my sleeping bag and theyre doing things which I wont describe least not before breakfast and so he came in to the tent with Dalya and Dalya seethed and swore and Benny said did you want me to leave but Ill have to sleep in the bar area as shes in my tent with him so Dalya said ok but no funny business and he said I don t do funny business and lay there in the tent where the Yank girl used to lay and she seemed determined not to let him get too near but at the time the birds were beginning to sing and she still being awake she said to him if you want to come nearer we can keep warm against this ground frost or so it seems and he said sure why not and moved next to her and they hugged and one thing led to another and well shed not be telling her mother when she got home that aspect of her holiday and hoped to God her brother didnt see Benny come out of her tent in the morning and next morning when she showered in the base camp the ***** was there washing off her sins with the Aussie guy laughing  and acting like some latter day Joan Crawford and Dalya glared at her the way her skinny arms were wrapped about her rake thin body and love bites around her neck and tiny **** and Dalya thought God what a sight and that time on the ship from Oslo to Amsterdam and Dalya stood on the deck as the waves rose and fell and the ***** of good old USA was puking over the side and O that was good Dalya thought that was a scream and she looked green and looked as if she'd puke up her ring and Dalya smiled to  herself and later when they landed in Amsterdam Benny and Dalya sought out a cafe and sat and drank coffee and ate a couple of burgers and she said how would you rate the *** the other night in my tent? and Benny said how rate? and she said from one to ten one being utter crap to ten being ****** heaven and Benny thought as he drank his coffee and said well its as near to Heaven as Ill get is it better than having the Yank *****? she asked I dont what she humps like but Id say yes with you it was heaven and Ok she said dont let my brother know or hell tell my mother and then shell go off the deep end you know what mothers are like with their daughters and it was in Amsterdam that the good old American girl split saying she was meeting some French guy in Paris the **** ***** Dalya said she must have a ****** like a drinking hole in the Sahara and Benny said nothing but wondered why women worried about each other like that why they couldnt be more like guys who just think lucky guy wish I could be pimple on his **** while hes going it some then as the camping trip was coming to an end and they were on the last leg of the trip at the last and final base camp and she had her tent to herself she invited Benny in for a final fling but before that they went to the base camp bar and bought a good deal of the ***** and staggered back to the tent and she said you know what? and he said no and she said well lie down and Ill tell you and so Benny lay down on the tent floor next to her and she said I was ****** by my cousin once it was at a birthday party at my parents house and me and him- his name must be kept hush hush- had a little must of  my fathers punch drink and we went up to my bedroom-I slept alone- and I thought it would just be kissing but no one thing led to another and next thing I remember we were ******* away like two hounds on heat and the music was still being pumped from downstairs and singing and laughter and Benny said I wish Id been there I could have made it a ******* but Dalya said it was a bad enough him being there ******* away and she looked past him at the dull sky of their last day.

She stood at the gravestone a shard petal
Fell cutting upon the air. It littered the floor
With tears of wine, falling and spilled on the
Found staining the memory below. She gripped
Upon its stem in a hardened stance of tears.

Her cowl draped over her soft hair in the
Scattered winds it flowed and from her
Grief did vengeance flourish. shadows
Granted form trod upon the ground.
Beauty in darkness bled upon the land.

Hooves trebled on odours that were seeping
Scent bleeding a trail on the land below.
There onyx alicorn cut into the wind tasting
The vengeance that would bleed upon there
Moment of satisfaction as shadow feed cold.

Hooves were separated, as the hunted greeted
Foe, shadows were separated and in to mist
They seeped back to the cloak. Fibres torn
From the impact and bled darkness on all
It graced upon. She felt each of there pains.

One still galloped on, ever seething in connected
Grief of its fallen parts now concentrated in its
Raging torrent of remorse. Each that had fallen its
Location bleed into the sky showing each the
Position of vengeances handle well grasped.

Rapid breath did concentrate on a veil of
Misted wisps as in site that which felled the
Love of one in shadows trawl. Now as blade
Swung for a third strike hardened by fallen
Before it glided on concentrated form.

Majestic beauty seethed in onyx fought for
What was owed in blood. It  needed to be fed
Upon its quivering movement, not sullen as
Before, for each learned from the fallen before
Swifter and fluid motion formed and flowed forth.

Her main was cleaved into oblivion as wisps
Drifted off. Hooves took on to flesh and connected
In true form. blood urged to be released as lips
Gestured forth and expelled raindrops of pain
On self and the watching earth silent below.

It clipped with its etched alicorn flesh tight
And willing to be cut upon, as tears of life
Draped ever faster she was called to this
Calling to venture into the known finishing.
In elegance she edged slowly forth unto him.

I was in a beat of another draped in essence of
Loves grip. You stole the heart that held mine
And it fell shattered into dust. I claim the right
Of loves vengeance on that which was taken
Now entombed  in eternal stones grasp.

As the last steed faded into recollection and
Joined her cowl now whole. Its horn now
A knife of blood rose thorns ready to drink.
He went to venture words but her finger
Silenced anything seeping forth.

"Love was my light and you extinguished it,

"Now darkness collects it dues on that death,

She plummeted it into his chest and it drank, as
A husk knelt before her then dust graced the
Gentle wind and she stood alone once again.

"My love as yours was stilled,

"Now they do not breath breathe,

And she hilted her dagger and once again
Stood over the stone that held silent thoughts,
And a heart that still beat but not of life anymore.

A carrion swarm had descended upon the desecrated ground by the time he had woken from his trance. In his wake stood withering flora, and the tenebrous scent of decay still lingered in the air. Cloaked bodies riddled the floor around him, and the pools of blood beneath had begun to sate the thirst of the soil. As he made his way toward his scythe, his footfalls singed the earth with a hiss. Never again would his path be untainted, but that was a price he was willing to pay. He found his scythe in the same place he last remembered losing consciousness, lodged in the chest of the final shadow high priest he had remembered slaying. The obsidian blade had run through the priest completely, embedding itself into the stone construct behind his lifeless corpse. With a stern grunt, he dislodged his weapon from stone and flesh, and swung it over his shoulder. It grows heavier the more blood it spills. Torment seethed with malice, and the runes glowing along its snath emanated a murderous aura. In ancient books it was said the scythe was called the Herald Of Fallen Stars, for it was known that those who wield it soon fall from grace. This did not dissuade him from making the blade his own.

Dawn was nearing its breaking point. He stalked towards the alter, ignoring the monolithic stone serpent with its eyes glowing red in the rising light. Those eyes have witnessed my sin, but before my time is done they shall see me turn this wretched land to cinders. In front of him a fountain stood, overflowing with malignant liquids. At its base sat a dark chalice. The scorched red crystals embedded into the cup seemed to scream heresy. He lifted the chalice and dipped it in the fountain, only stopping once the cup was full. Then he drank, allowing no drop to go wasted. A sharp pain struck his left arm, and before his eyes he witnessed it begin to steam, then catch fire. In a searing blaze, a single ring of fire bloomed and surrounded his forearm in flames. Through the initial pain he found himself empowered. The fire did not subside, nor would it ever, so long as he still breathed. He looked at his arm with a sense of malevolent triumph, and a cruel grin crept across his face. This marks the beginning of my ascension, and those who stand in my way shall know nothing but blood and agony.

A nominal amount of pain
when the lights go on.
You roll lines around in your head
and realize you remember none.
There’s only the dull stink of cigarette smoke
and day old donuts in your mouth.
Your mind seizes and your heart seethes.
What the **** am I doing here?
Nothing more than a back alley bard.
A barbarian without grace
with a penchant for writing inane ramblings
on cocktail napkins.

A bald man bellows in the back of the room.
An emo princess giggles at her date’s joke.
Drinks sloshed, cigars inhaled.
All awaiting the crash and burn,
or the entertainment they came to see.
They want a rock star.
They want a sideshow freak.
They will boo, they will howl,
They may even clap if the timings right.

Damon Malio goes up before me.
That ******* is as smooth as silk
and as suave as the day’s first rays.
Hell, I even want to run up there
and kiss the *******.
He has a rapacious tongue,
stealing every good word in the English language.
Banging away with syllables and gestures,
the room is vibing to his beat.

Knots in my stomach
and an ache in my brain.
A dull thump followed by
the whisper of “Fraud.”
                          “Failure.”
It’s that little boy voice
that used to get tormented in grade school.
The urge hits to wither away.

The only escape route is blocked by bouncers
at the back door.
I’m trapped here with the prison guards.
No semblance of thought,
just a rattle, panic and hate.
I’m a predator in a room full of rodents,
ready to eat me alive.

There are no outs,
only the get up there
and get out the vivid images
alive inside of me.
Right before I go up on stage
I touch the brick wall.
Tangible, tactile, rough and cool.
I laugh under my breath.
That’s the way people describe me.

If you ever wanted to hear a pin drop,
now would be a good time.
Staring back are a room full of strangers,
Murmuring, waiting for the show to begin.
I see a table full of beautiful women,
the tattooed, artsy types
I get weak in the knees for.
An older gentleman looking impatient for me to speak.
Clearly a professor of some sort.

I clear my throat.
Startling myself
at the loudness of it.
Loud…voice…speak…speak…speak.

“I’m a salty *******.
I could have been a Sabine
if I hadn’t been born in the wrong time,
to the wrong class of people
and a deformity looming larger than life.
That literary je ne sais quoi that working men
and the saviors of syphilis have.
The questionable knowledge that the
seafaring folk were instrumental
in my christening.

I’ll bring God’s ministry to Hades
and two tons of luck to riverboat gamblers
with fortuitous use of four aces.
I’ll bless the maître d’s war against the moguls
and the matadors quest for the upper hand
in the war of the forlorn.

I’m just kidding ladies and gentleman,
that’s all horseshit”

The crowd looks perplexed.
They aren’t quite there yet,
but we’re getting somewhere.

“We’re actually gathered here today to see the holy matrimony
of poetry and pestilence, art and arrogance.
I’ll be your priest, your prophet along the way.
We’ll channel them into
a seven year split and fifteen days of rage.
We’ll curse the gods of conformity and the spirits of suburban sprawl.
Set fire to the system that binds your mind.
The fallacies told to control you.

I never knew the error of my ways until
I touched God on Tuesday.
She was dead ringer for Greta Garbo,
gracious as a host and divine in her dealings with me.
I saw the white hot heat of Stockholm syndrome
and knew I was in the presence of the pantheon.
Felt swelter and fear,
but she kissed my forehead and whispered that it was all a lie.
The power others presume to hold over me.
The judges, the juries, the couponing maidens, the schoolmarms,
the cops and fathers and armies and vicious tax agents.
The Machiavellian telethon charities
and the undressed hookers pretending to be my saving grace.
The drugs, the music, the books, the *******, the fury of 40 years gone too long and not enough wisdom to die too soon.

I wept when she spoke to me.

Guns will **** you but love will **** you quicker she opined.
Obfuscated words from the otherworldly.
She sent me on a mission to find the words of Sinatra,
the Rat Pack’s subliminal subversion of all that power players hold dear.
The fear the unwashed masses will come.
The provincial mindset that they can procreate proletariats
to be the permanent protectors of their gilded ******* towers.
As I seethed she kissed and soothed me.
She whispered her love and asked me to lie with her.
I thought copulating with God was a heresy.
She told me to lay back and everything would be alright.”

I looked in the eyes of a tattooed temptress
and saw ravenousness for more words.
At least I knew I was getting laid tonight.

There was a new footing.
This vulnerability, baring my *** for all to see.
But there were no boos,
just the synergy of poetry conveyed through me.

“As we lay in the afterglow
I rolled over on one side and asked
how do I rid myself of the devils that plague us?
The bleeding, the burdens of humanity enslaving me?
She smiled playfully and ran her fingers through my hair,
telling me there there, don’t worry your pretty little head.
They can take from you. They can beat you.
They can **** you.
And oh my how they will try.
Governments and men with guns.
A society of rats crushing you with social mores,
moving to tell you what to do and how to live.
They will give speeches of how to behave on AM radio.
Buckle your belt, conserve the earth and be a good dad.
Foster those brats and bleat like sheep
to the tune of an Orwellian world.
I shook as she maddened my mind,
but her touch ran over me with ecstasy.

You will go forth my prophet, my prince,
and spread the word of free men with free minds,
not bound by internet ******* parties,
the latest legal trouble for B-listers
and all the trivialities of brainwashing.
The baubles betrothed to those without
imagination or the ***** to seek the truth.”

those who observed me while i was dormant
marveled at my majesty
unaware of the volatility that i barely kept contained

i was roped off, labeled with a tidy wooden sign that told me and others
what i was
a stoic monument and stable mountain

while at my core i seethed, i did my best to be what i needed to be in order to be witnessed

inevitably i erupted, frightening the gathered onlookers with a blazing rain of lava and a suffocating cloud of ash
the sky grew dark and it felt like the end of the world
but i needed to scream and i didn't mean to hurt anyone

i've had far fewer visitors since that day
i was fenced off, labeled with a rusting metal sign that told me and others what i was
a volcanic monster and volatile menace

i wonder
as i quietly crumble into the sea
if i will be remembered by humanity
and if so
will it be as the mountain
or the monster?

in the end
i think i would prefer to be forgotten

You were the only grandmother I knew
who kept her hair long:
grey-white and slicked back
in a tight knot against your skull
with one black streak above your ear.

During your last visit the bun broke loose,
mane toppling down your spine.
My seven-year-old self peeked behind you,
expecting to see spiders
creeping out of the hoary webbing,
awaiting your command to crawl
into the tv set
my pillowcase
the toilet bowl,
hatching spider babies
until their army seized the whole house
and drove me out.

But instead,
it was your legs walking toward me,
your fingers clawing up my arm,
your lipstick-smudged mouth invading,
fogging my glasses,
whisper-growling:
Don’t look at me like that!
You’re lucky your mother’s upstairs
or I’d put the paddle on ya.
I think I would have preferred
the spiders.

Later, you took your cigarettes outside
and sat beneath the window.
Smoke drifted up the pane,
and I imagined you stirring it forth
from a gurgling cauldron
that sparked and seethed–
its smoky potion scent
of cobra venom and boiled hearts
lingering in your
witch’s locks.

You say,
I'm not,
A keeper.
No,
I just escaped,
Your trap.
You say,
I'll always,
Leave her,
Please,
Just cut,
The crap.
I escaped,
The bear,
Claw,
By gnawing,
Off,
My leg.
Breaking,
All the,
Laws,
You forced,
Me,
To say.
I hopped,
Away,
Alone,
With no,
Hope for,
This stray.
Bleeding,
To,
The bone,
Going out,
Of my,
Own way.
Pain,
Stricken,
Face,
Sweat,
Down to,
My chin.
My shadow,
Asked for,
A race,
And I,
Let him,
Win.
I fell,
Face,
First,
Into,
A pile,
Of past.
Seethed,
Through the,
Worst,
For a,
Love that,
Will last.

We all laughed at her in her seamless white gown
As it folded around her on a barstool in a crowded club

She regarded us with the solemn eyes of a brooding child
Her hair curling and twisting down to her waist

Frail opaque hands holding her chin upon the wooden counter
An untouched apple martini right under her nose

Soft opalescent wings unsettled among writhing bodies
Brushing past her crushing her feathers

We called her a fool for walking into a place like this
Ignorant of the taste of desire and the sweetness of alcohol

She glanced at her foreign reflection waving in the red liquid
Her lips moistened as her fingertips sought the chill of the glass

There was no more laughter as we observed her in an anxious silence
Not fully aware of this pinnacle point in time

The first drop of apple seethed into her tongue
Her wings shivered violently and beautifully as they burst into steam

Her unconscious fingers tore the thread around her thighs
The dress now translucent and sensual, clinging to her curves

With the last sip of that poisonous apple her ruby lips curved into a tempting smile
A strange luster came into her hooded eyes as wisdom became her

She had welcomed the forbidden fruit

they drip from your lips
roll off of your tongue
fatal to my heart
just like a gun

you spit them in my face
like poison or venom
they twist and distort
no truth to mention

talking bout lies

i trusted you completely
until they came along
now they are your melody
flowing like a song

more intricate than spiders webs weaved
growing and mutliplying
becoming fermented and seethed

talking bout lies

they sting and burn
slowly wounding my soul
my heart now shattered, jagged
never again to be whole

they will all crash down
catch you up one day
for all the wrong, all the hurt
you soon will repay