#ares
Blood from a stone;
Vulcan, erupt.
In his Ares heart,
Of the Zeno soul.
The battle drags on
For a cause, I do not know.
Jul 19, 2023
Jul 19, 2023 at 9:44 AM UTC
I cast the muse into the sea
to wake her from a peaceful sleep.
This poet’s quill is void of ink;
it needs her words to strike the page.
She’ll fight the waves Poseidon sends
til Sirens drive her back to shore
to sip an oleander brew
and hoist the cup of Socrates.
Bring wolfsbane and a death morel!
Bring nightshade and curare too!
We’ll fatten her with woe and pain!
We’ll ready her for war and hate!
She’ll writhe and quiver, seethe and foam
until she spews her putrid verse
upon the blackened sands of time
from which men’s darkest dreams are built.
And when the gods are satisfied,
when Ares’ sword has slashed and burned,
this poisoned pen will rest at last.
Calliope shall sleep once more.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 8:23 PM UTC
love is a double edged sword
that speaks truths and lies,
aphrodite and ares, venus and mars,
love and war go hand in hand
as does death and beauty
Oct 5, 2020
Oct 5, 2020 at 11:38 AM UTC
You and I, handcrafted in lust,
borne of sea and blood -
you, of Aphrodite,
and I, of Ares.
The violence of your love
destined to be matched only
by the tenderness of my violence.
And my hands, war-given, strong,
made for battle,
grow soft at your hips, and
softer yet at the cliff of your thighs,
as they crash softly in the bay in-between.
And how these hands long for you, my child of goddess,
long for you like the armor of my chest longs
for your sweet mouth,
longs for your gentle fingertips
in the calm before the storm.
The passion of your tenderness a momentary reprieve
before I go to war;
and when I go, oh, the power that overcomes me,
and the weapons I will bring,
and the blood I will draw.
In the fashion of my father, as he tied Aphrodite's hair
in his fist, and
as he broke down her barriers, claiming her city,
her temple,
her soul.
The lullaby of her moans
reminiscent in your voice,
my favorite sound and
my chosen battle cry.
Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 10:10 AM UTC
“I love you” in its kaleidoscope dress dances
like sunshine upon the waves -
does it remind you of something?
Does it remind you of me, my love,
as I sit here and write and break my heart over
entertaining a fantasy;
For you to say my name, just once - just once -
to hear your gentle breath exclaim this personal ecstasy of mine,
this declaration of victory that yes, I am myself!
Finally, instantly -
just one word from your lips - this word - and the fever of
battle inside me rages,
the body ready to swim all seas and win all wars,
to tear up all earth just
for you -
to find you, my lover, yes,
to return to a home of you.
I promise I will, and forever more I shall,
in exchange for the sound of
your rose water perfumed voice
caressing the essence of my Self.
I could
spin this song forever
let it wash endlessly
through the streets of the world, just to
declare my love for you,
just to shout your name into the night
or sing it as gracefully as I could
to infect every heart and ear with my feeling,
this emotion that overpowers me,
makes me crumble, fall to my feet,
lift my voice to highest praise, a taste unfamiliar to my mouth;
praise does not come so easily to me as the blade to a throat.
So have I not done enough to prove myself to you?
Have I not given all my heart, and all my soul, too -
Still no word. No answer.
The hunger inside my heart throws me forward,
edges me closer to the abyss,
the forlorn nothing, the never-ending absence,
a loveless mist to swallow me forever,
and you, my only savior, looking on,
your face a stone-cold mask.
You don’t want to let me in.
Don’t take my hand - for I could pull you down with me,
couldn’t I, my love?
The only power I possess is destruction.
This fragile bird of ours,
I swallow it whole between gnashing teeth,
and snap the neck of delicacy with the careless tongue
of unrequited love.
And who am I, after all,
but covered in dirt and blood, kneeling
at the altar of your love,
begging for my life as if
all the wars and battles won
matter nothing now. Perhaps they don’t -
what good is honor to me if
you crush it with one bare foot?
What good are strength and death and victory if
I was never destined to succeed in the king’s battle -
the last stand my heart could take, only to
lose the fight?
I have died more viciously by the sharp cut of your cool shoulder,
my love,
than I have ever hurt at the hands of a thousand men.
I, warlike, once a God,
wounded and fallen, now,
collapsed without dignity at your feet,
pleading for mercy
and crying, with every sense of emotion,
“I love you.”
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 6:33 PM UTC
Last night
We lay together.
Twin flames,
two greek gods
with 'a' names.
I dared not to move.
I thought about kissing him.
and then 𝘩𝘦 kissed 𝘮𝘦.
Mar 15, 2020
Mar 15, 2020 at 1:14 PM UTC
Your love
is in the blood
running through their veins
dripping from their hands
the voice
roaring out of their throats
the metal
armoring and wounding bodies.
Your love
pulsates in their wrists
beats in their chests
hot and passionate
uttered in everlasting violence
and tears falling for fallen ones.
But most of all your love
is destiny,
their destiny
the calling they answer
the home they return to
you.
Ares, you.
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 11:45 AM UTC
I’m a face in the crowd
With the holier than thou
Who scream so loud
That they’re proud
I look around
Then look at the ground
We disagree
Differing
On different needs
They’re an aggressive breed
Making others bleed
For what they believe
So I flee
Into solitary
Avoiding Ares
I become less brotherly
As I forget the suffering
In my submerged submarine
Where I can’t hear the thundering
Of social interaction blundering
I’m exiled in style
Haven’t seen people in a while
Which makes me smile
Skipping their trials
Walking for miles
Without the vile
Spewing their bile
I walk through peaceful pastures
Far away from our corporate masters
Dodging all the disasters
That make us die faster
I focus on the pastor
To live happily ever after
I lose my relatability
In a state of tranquility
From the holy trinity
Helping me see infinity
And start living differently
Instead of living miserably
Using ignorance for protection
I start to lose connection
To important lessons
That met my deflection
Or circumvented detection
As part of my rejection
Of society’s infection
I try to avoid negativity
But I can’t set the living free
If all my life is giving me
Reflects my selfish greed
Living under tranquil trees
Away from their hypocrisy
And false democracy
Always mocking me
From afar
Leaving the door ajar
For me to heal some scars
But for that I’ll have to leave Mars
And mingle with the stars
That float in the distance
While I watch their imprints
Making the night sky different
I avoid their pain
Becoming lame
Playing a game
Of staying tame
So I circle the drain
Without leaving a stain
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 11:52 PM UTC
ares the god that i've grown to not like
for his attitude and actions are not respectable.
ares, a guy i never thought i'd like.
it just happened.
we happened.
like the greeks,
i now have a love-hate relationship with
ares.
he's mighty.
you're sympathetic,
but you both are the same.
i don't want to be a spartan who
only sees good in you.
athenians are correct
you are a coward.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 12:12 AM UTC
My brother is a drama queen with no morals.
He cheats on his wife with everything with a pulse.
So many of my nephews are the result of my brother’s lust,
I would be surprised he is still married
If I did not know his wife as well as I do.
His wife is over possessive, and angry,
However she is righteous and fair.
Forgiven on that front.
However she is also our sister
And if I had any right to judge, I might.
My other brother has no cares.
He has had an ongoing competition
With our niece for ages,
Since the spring and the olive tree.
My nephew enjoys arsonry and war
And I wonder if he is a sadist sometimes.
He is my other niece’s side piece, essentially,
Whom is married to yet another nephew.
Our history is riddled with ******
And I wonder if we are really all powerful gods
Or just afflicted by advantageous birth defects.
I am the most normal of us all
And I spend my time with dead people.
We need help.
Send your best therapist.
Maybe send multiple,
The first few might meet an untimely end.
Sincerely, Hades.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
there is this someone
who faced the world
as if she was the daughter of ares.
she is as strong as her name.
she fights,
and falls,
and stands back up again.
through this endless cycle,
i see glimpses
of hopelessness and loss.
and i wish
that as she grows into a better warrior,
she realizes that she is not alone in this war,
for there are thousands of people
waiting and praying
for her to reach her victory.
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
i am ares: the god of war.
disgruntled by my own blood thirst,
in solitude due to anything but my own accord.
i fear this lonely and cold world; however,
i don't know how to have it any other way.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
ares,
wake your son.
tell him the battle will go away if he keeps his eyes
open long enough.
tell him that his mind is his greatest
comrade and enemy,
and that he does not need to know
when which is which just yet; but to
trust himself enough to
live with the consequence of either.
ares,
wake your son.
tell him to find his mother within him,
and not look to you and your plights as a
reflection.
he was born from love and war,
love and war,
and more time was spent in the womb of
the prior; that wars have been
waged for the word,
and resolved by the same.
ares,
wake your son.
remind him that, while the
sun does not revolve around him,
it depends on what he determines his
sun to be.
may he have many
and learn to appreciate them equally.
i am too old to keep making stars.
the sky is full.
ares,
wake your son.
press your thumb to his forehead,
wrap your arm around his shoulder,
he needs to know that he is cared for,
though i cannot understand;
who has he met that has told him otherwise?
touch him only if he asks,
but read his eyes- he is asking.
ares,
wake your son.
the son of war has battled.
tear him from the lip of vulcan,
remind him of the mistakes of troy,
teach him what these men did not have
that he does.
if he does not,
remind him that while he is your seed,
he is the nephew of athena.
promise him he can learn-
he can.
ares,
wake your son.
the son of love is loved.
wake him to remind him he is alive-
poseidon likes to play games,
and he seems to have gotten to his mind.
he has not yet drowned,
and he never will.
****** will bring him up with winds,
it is up to him to fall or ride them.
ares,
wake your son.
he has grieved too long
over battles he has not yet fought
and may never have to.
ares,
wake your son.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC