A new Prometheus breaks through
with the light not taken from the sun
but from an unknown forgotten one.
Not up from the sky nor from down
the bottom of the ocean, rose from the null!
  
The witty one then shows up
like a candle, flame on the mirror!
Everything around it starts fading
except the flame in front of the mirror.
More and more eyeballs look
on it only to be sure
anything like it was never seen before!
  
By now the world woken up at the first light
perhaps except the one who could tell the truth
what was that looking in the mirror?
Everyone's guess was as good as other's

We gather here tonight
To bask in Fate’s delight.
A tale to tell our path,
A tale of Fate’s dear wrath.

Who is fate up there,
With her shining silver hair?
Arranging constellational myths,
From her fingertips.

What can we believe of Fate?
Basking immortal in the sky,
To her we wonder why--
The stars are wrinkles in time.

What drives the stars to shine,
And what can we ask of them,
In lines and curves and light?
Can they guide us through our life?

Can Fate tell us all of this?
After all, she is made of myths.
She burned the flying Icarus,
And cursed dear Prometheus.

Who are we without our fate?
Do we know our own way?
What are we without dreams?
What are we without prophecies?

“Where is Fate?” we ask.
“Can we coax her out?”
Instead she whispers down,
Fate is found inside ourselves.

Do you recall,
Long ago we used to be puppets,
The puppets of gods,
Who used to hold neither knowledge nor will.

And then he came around,
With the Sky Fire, stolen from gods.
And he, Prometheus, gave it to us,
So here we are, with our freedom, will and desire.

So embrace it all, let us be free,
Slaves to no master,
Prisoners to no limits,
Let us stay free and walk tall.

And yet then he's  got caught,
To eternity sentenced, as if freedom's a sin.
But the gods achieved nothing as he was saved,
And the Fire was to bright to put it out.

So hold on to it, keep it up, the fire.
Follow dreams with all of your breath.
Stay curious with all of your passion.
Embrace the Fire, love the life.

And so guard it,keep it bright, the Fire.
Always walk tall, never give in.
Stay unique, independent, so never obey
Embrace the fredom, love the life.

I see a clover in my heart,
  two trefoil shamrocks do adorn my breast,
          these spider's webs on my elbows, -covered,
                    with moving foot never do I rest.

Upon me soul and in my mind,
           resides a brotherhood to wit I'm joined,
                        from home of Prometheus a story born,
                                  seed of Gomer passes through my ****.

I have a clover in my heart,
   a turning foot makes this world mine.
      The Caucasus seem so far from me,
              with six-thousand years in brotherhood; time.

Prometheus.
That's what they call me.
Your heart, phoenix fire.

Even Smokey the bear influence
couldn't save us from this forest fire.
Oil and fire will soon be mingled
with human anxiety and distress.

Often, the shallows are a good place to be,
Once out of there, no going back, not ever,
Once noticed, return is virtually impossible,
And all pedestals are shaky, no roots: none!

Ensure buoyancy, for one must sink or swim,
So much expected, so much demanded,
One may think shallows are unkind, a waste,
They are safe, though, friendly, pleasant,
Conducive company encouraging creation.

Once out of them, away from safe shores,
New challenges arise, new horizons, all new,
Making one desperate not to fail, not to sink,
One must swim, swim for your life; swim hard,
For it hurts to disappoint, it hurts so much.

Without the grassy bank and sandy bottom,
Creation is difficult, beware the sharks: teeth,
Scoot around the crocs, teeth snapping: biting,
Desiring your tender unsuspecting flesh!

See the glory-hogs wallowing, laughing at you,
Howling with derision; they know nothing,
Stupid hacks, every one of them, frolicking,
Performing in the deep, dark, dangerous-depths,
Unaware their blood will soon feed others,
The swirling waters running red: eventually.

Safer here with golden fish and humble toads,
Prometheus swims here as well as anywhere,
Savour the shallows, dance with creativity,
If you must leave, identity switch required,
Even then, watch sharks and crocs: teeth biting,
Often, the shallows are a good place to be.

©Paul Chafer 2014

as soon as these blue speckled
socks go, that's it. A new bright black death.A solemn weir on a stark horizon.Give me a reason to wear color. My hueless affidavit
runs me into the Earth, where I sprout up
a pallid keb- brain orf'd, you could drag my etiolated ebon
body through the ovine fold or take me to the theater. When I was just a minor teg, I sheared my mim kip, I fuckinggave it to you outright. In this little
cote my wan mien nigrifying; my calamitous black, quaffed full of congou in demitasse, of souchong & saucers. My atrous wethered body albicantly degenerating in the atrous sun. I'm crusting over with wanness and you, you're fortifying in the cwm where I used to yaff and stray. Your ovivorous hunger,something I never knew, when first you came for my jecoral flesh, just another bot digging through my soft toison. Like Dall's Prometheus being sheared from the flock-you cut me away. In this drab and achromic world, you put the wanness in my flesh, the gid in my heart. Still.
Just these blue socks are left.