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Raised by repulsion from the nearest or attraction to the furthest
pole, over lode ranges levitating loxygenlessly, His Hypergrav Grace.
Is it the spirit of Ed Headrich, his frisbeing free from his body,
tho’ underwhelmed by his halo, an aureate Aerobie?
Or is it a crimson crow? No: Magneto.
If the posthuman is a Pandora’s box,
he’s its inexorable crowbar, Evolution’s new broom.
Natural Selection a sovereign reinstated
by muta-über new bar,
master who has no call for crowbars or keys, tinopeners, boltcutters,
of knurling or bending his mag-knees-toes when lifting        
marines outta degaussed exosuits by the scruff of their dogtags
- let them hover till they hang!

Basketballingly belittling
a B-52, curlynealing a jet bomber on th’end of his index,
coz round his pinkie imperious Magneto twists
electrons’ spins and orbits.
Awesummoning electromagnetic pulses,
big bogoff SHA-KOOM! shockwaves,
that bring Nato’s whirlybirds of prey, chinooks, to book
(e.g. the ‘Book of the Devil Valley Master’ from 4th century BC China).

And as for the F22 Raptor
-  watch out, that’s a brandnew…Oh, scrapt war-
bird. Steel its Achilles’ heel,
mankind’s  collective military might
humbled into a junkyard on high,
a giant junk gyre crinklin’ and creakin’,
scraping and chiming as all modernity metallurgic
is mashed about the ambit of the carcrusher eye
of his chrome Charybdis in the sky.
Vast and vortical vectorfield realised in lithe steel,
seething silver stratospriral o’ swirly enswallowment
straddles Megiddo, with accretion disc of armoured ooze
like a platinum worldwreath,
but no condolence means Magneto.
No large hadron collider had to collude in
this inhaling metalmouth of a hellmouth,
where to winged lemming death
magnetoceptive real birds might be misled.  
It'd magnettickle my ethmoid bone,
my lapsed biocompass’d soak up teslas and oersteds
till  lagnetism of hysteresis heated
my gone cold prehistoric sense of direction,  
my bearings on fire f’hours
after his fingers apocalypclickt
a billion ballbearings
to buckshot the firmament.
Yozhik May 2017
I swallowed Charybdis somehow...
I was in the Dire Strait(s) of Messyna,
Doing my Odyssey thing (such is life)
And I just swallowed Charybdis.
The funny thing is this
Maelstrom, it fits
Within me just fine
It's even vaguely useful
(drank that Scylla's blood like wine)
But there's still a sensation
I have of...mild annihilation
Of everything that was mine.

But it all still seems fine
I may be filled with a vacuum
of violent wailing waves that's
coated my heart with rime
But it'll melt with time.
(I imagine.)  

But one thing does now worry me
Moving forward, my journey
Leads to that pesky island.
Helios's; the Island of the Sun!
(Yes he's quite a brilliant one)
Now that might warm my blood
And it might tame the waves
Transform the vacuum to a tender sea
Giving more control to me
Less reckless and more truly free...
Live as who I was born to be...

But also-- Charybdis might just like...
eat all the Sun's special cows or whatever
and either he will never rise again
or I'll get speared with a lightning bolt
Which both would ****.
So I'm stuck
Imprisoned by Charybdis (ironically)
I sit here a bit catatonically
As I lock up Charybdis
Wondering how the hell (Hades?)
This monster fits within.
and wondering who swallowed who.
With a body of curves, like no other, a true image of the magnificent, celestial mother.

And flowing as a spring with infinite roar, yet one small detail one could not ignore.

Her hair was a torrent, a weathering storm, scattering birds, attracting lightning; a whirlpool in form.

This visage, this appearance, so strange, so bizarre; face of spinning waters, as brilliant as stars.

Falling in love with her, into her flows, where everyone knows where the torrid passion goes.

In drowning descent, never returning from the throes, Land of Sleep, a beast awaits; the awful Kro-nos.
Charybdis is the whirlpool that descends to the underworld. She is the source of the word Caribbean. This is metered poetry. I believe Charybdis is in fact all the oceans around the Eurasian landmass, swirling as a gigantic whirlpool that in ancient times would bring any ship down whom ventured to stay at sea too long.

— The End —