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Poor Cleitus, rictus grin, his staring eyes.
Wine, it has been spilt, amphorae shattered.
‘He’s dead my Lord.’ A cry profane.
Dismay, regret, not that it mattered.

For, Alexander, you proclaimed yourself the son of Ammon,
Zeus Ammon, but even so
By doing that you disowned Philip
Who was once our king.
Your father.

And when eunuchs foul make their approach,
They kiss the ground. And Persians you have made
kneel and bow to scrape the floor.
Cleitus did but cry ‘Alexander, no more.’
And you killed him.

“Did but cry” - I hear you say. ‘That is wrong.
Cleitus the Black was furious and fighting drunk.
Since Granicus he has claimed to own my life.
To own the king’s life!
Could any obligation so strong?’

‘He, Lanike’s brother, a childhood friend.
Evoking memories of that Macedon, long ago.
This, the man with whom I played and once whom I admired.
Who, after sharing Thasian, Mendaean, Lesbian wine,
Did threaten that, which others just as bold declare divine.’

“Alexander, brave men have died to put you where you are,” he said.
“And yet, instead of using us you use these Persian Swine.”
And then, would you believe, he poured himself a cup of wine?
This angered me, to the extent that I hurled an apple at his head.
Shouting “would you rather Philip, here; that I was dead?”

I have done more than Philip ever did or planned to do.
And yet, still you all compare me with that man.
Know that what we plan to do, and what we have done, e’en with you,
Is because of me, of what I am.
Done not by Philip but by Alexander; by me - because I can.

Yes, I know, he saved my life.
But did that give him leave to rant, and rave, and roar?
There can be no doubt, the way that he was poised.
It was to attack. And being so, I had no choice
I had to fight him back.

And now he is dead. But let us be clear,
‘Twas not in anger, neither was it fear.
Cleitus, he was mine and I held him dear.
Why then, you say, turn the spear?
Because it was Cleitus. That is why. You hear?

He, whom once I loved disdained my claim:
“That but for Philip I would not be here.
That Parmenion’s death will ever sully my great name.”
And “his death betrayed our dead; that’s to my shame.”
All this he bellowed, and then the sneer.
That is why I turned the spear.

How did Cleitus ever think to call my Nemesis?
Even drunk he had not that right.
And now, such this time of mine I must spend in sorrow.
Talking not with man, nor planning where or when to fight.
And from the daughter of bleak night must look to borrow
Surcease; so, might I once more Alexander show
In all his awful might.
Alexander is said to have murdered Cleitus in a drunken brawl. I beg to differ.
Karijinbba May 2019
Ay
Ay ay ay my old forest land
five little brothers blown
Ay ay my baby boy gone
My loving dad's grave lost

Mom lost her mind
sold my half sis for food
as I ran to convent stunned

Ay USA my coco girl's birth
Henrys infertil mistress bailed
his******* dues selling my
baby girl to her!
impostor posing as Mom-me
!in Torrance CA maternity ward
stole my baby photos

Ay daughter keep away from Moureen
he even gave you daughter her ugly name! sold you like a dog is sold
Evil Henry is no father to you
tried vanishing me and
you in my womb using saline but Mom saved herself and you
called police
before and after your birth
we both were attacked
this truth you must know no matter how painful
your Mother loves you this mother is me I love you you are my beloved father David's precious grand child
your maternal grandparents were good people so we're your paternal grandmother Janet but not your paternal father he was evil biggoted racist don't ever be like him.
I love you so miss you daughter mine your father's seed isn't to blame his sister Elizabeth is sociopath sadistic weekly jealous she is like Henry a Charles Manson's advocate almost turned me pregnant into Sharon Tate 1969 butchered by evil crazed men and followers
same bad people in Greece pray on pregnant women and babies they are the **** of this planet.
I wouldn't do a roach what they all put me and my baby's through.
~~~
Ay my Greek born baby girls
medeas tinted your baby milk
with caustic soda yelling at me to hurt me saying it was to open your sink out of jealousy malice and greed
they said you were killers because hers with him wouldn't be born.
~~
Take heed keep away from Greece and them all they are not well in the head they a lack heart brains courage everything I had in excess to fly away and save us all.
~~~~
ay ay our envious foe
enemy so blind a fool
has died seeing us thrive
Ay PTSD ay free me please.

Ay dear poets potessess
thou in thy worst nightmare have it good and better then me and my kin.

Ay ay poisons potions we won!
we emerged immune even to you stronger mightier better
than thee

my enemies all look at us
living in the land of
the free and the brave
healthy loving caring
Ay sad sure! bitter never!

Ay ay USA ay ay Mexico
Hell Greece and Greeks sits more evil
of lower hells bellow thee  
most vicious cruel of all foe.
I changed Earth for the anti-Christ wasn't born instead my Angels
thrive good destroys evil within

Ay Greek **** mythology drown!
drown Join Atlantis Sodomah
Gomorrah into your pits of hell
itself go sink.!
This is a holy mother's plee
supersticious ignorant greece
We have flushed thee down
deep the bottomless pit
with this tini poetic
metaphor I plee to the Universe the spiritual unseen world above and below.
So wise many a poet
and powerful poetessess
family and friends,
please switch vacation trips to elsewhere in the globe
ending touristic revenues to
food poisoning *****
Hell enic poisoner twisted backwards ******'s ******* lenic Greece.
~~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
All right reserved revived 8-2020
true life story.
Enough shared thanks for reading
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
This is an edited, expanded, expounded, confounded, reverberation of Linguistic Illusions to Probable Solutions written months back.
Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
Villain villainous vicarious, voracious or a vorate,
a Vulcan hell, a chthonic well, Megaron or substrate,
we find ourselves imagining some patterns in the stars,
with characters traveling -across this field of view of ours.

One will often contemplate the possibilities,
of all the fancied origins, of life in heaven's seas,
did Kronos eat the five they say?
Or does the day disguise them?

Perhaps he eats them every night,
as they dip on the horizon!
Rhyme, Greek mythology, cosmogony as rhyming poetry. All star characters die with the day in TIME.
They've all moved to L.A now.
Their temples alit by silver screen
belief in Hollywood dreams.

Pilgrims travel from all around
to new sanctuaries;
to New Delphi,

to see them in the flesh,
their idols who have fallen from
the light polluted skies.

Carved and polished out of Parian marble
And pasted onto magazines.
Sculptured into new realities.

Still the priestesses; the press,
will whisper the gossip
from high in the clouds.
Written sometime toward the end of 2011.
Gods of Olympus
I call to you once again
Remember the little cherub?
She is dead, isn't she?
Hades, you saw her in the pit of hell
Burning, dying every single day
Just like her humanity
Slowly fading
Her love turns to anger turns to hate
Cruel Eros, he planned her death with Aphrodite
Together, they succeeded
A battle between the mind and heart.
Once again, they prove Athena and her kids can be conquered.
The Gods watch her die but still kept her body alive.
Why are you all staring at me?
I'm not her. I'm not questioning you from your actions.
I feel less emotion.
I'm an empty vessel.
A reincarnation of an angel who lost her way.
Gods guide me, for I am a new born
In the body of this dead angel, I'll inhabit.
Her body. My soul.
I would like to revise this but I'll do it later.  I need sleep.

If you were able to read SM cherub's God of Olympics, this is the second part of it. I feel sorry I deleted that account.
Mysterious Etrusca!
Strange Etrusca!

Ten lupine stars rush from behind,
Supine pellucid moon,

Prowling Etrusca!
Growling Etrusca!

Brauroi women, anguished screams,
Pinned by Tyrrenia’s swoon,

Cry out, Etrusca!
Die out Etrusca!

And ships set sail for journey’s end,
Tales of victory, they croon…

Oh my Etrusca!
Cruel sigh, Etrusca!
Rustle McBride Jun 2016
The battle was imminent.
The forces were joined.
No longer was time standing idle.
Outnumber and ******
by 100 to 1,
the Spartans stood fervid and vital.

The Greeks were united,
though the Spartans alone
were the ones charged with their protection.
At Thermopylae pass,
300 men stood
together in imperfect perfection.

"Surrender your arms"
King Xerxes demanded,
"Surrender, and let the Persians betake them."
Leonidas replied "Molon Labe!" my foe,
**"If you want them, then you come and take them."
The beginning of a poem i'm working on about King Leonidas response to the Persians who demand that they lay down their arms and surrender to the superior force of 300,000 men.
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