#cassandra
They say Cassandra was cursed
because no one believed her.
That’s a myth we tell ourselves
to stay innocent.
I was believed. Barely.
That was the problem.
I stated it clearly, early,
in rooms with working microphones:
this is how governance executes now—
not with boots at dawn,
but with branding decks,
legal scaffolding,
and paramilitary compliance.
I named the campaign
before it learned its smile.
I named the winner
while the polls were still data points.
I named the plan
while it existed as a PDF in private,
a draft for risk assessment, not ritual.
They nodded.
They “interesting”-ed.
They bookmarked.
The levee of their attention held nothing.
Do not tell me I was unheard.
I was cited,
then sidelined.
Quoted,
then diluted.
Invited to panels
designed to produce reports, not change.
The curse was never disbelief—
it was timing.
Prophecy arrives early
and precise
enough to be inconvenient.
I said:
loyalty will be deputized
and called procedure.
Uniforms will lack names;
names will lack faces.
Enforcement will be scalable,
measured, plausibly deniable.
I said:
corruption will pose for logs.
Compliance will appear procedural,
statistically defensible.
You said:
Extreme.
Unlikely.
Our institutions don’t operate this way.
I reminded you:
institutions operate exactly like this
when admitting fear first
carries risk.
The systems are still logging.
The audits are still incomplete.
The risk registers still active.
And suddenly—
now...
you remember my name.
Not to apologize.
Not to ask for action.
Cassandra does not predict outcomes.
She predicts process.
I am not cursed to be ignored.
I am cursed to be accurate
in a culture that treats accuracy
as a personality flaw.
I spoke because observation is sovereign.
I spoke knowing
truth does not halt collapse
it preserves the record.
The feeds are still indexing.
The logs are still streaming.
I am still here.
Not screaming,
just documenting,
so no one can ever claim
they didn’t even know.
Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 12:13 AM UTC
The first time my existentialism
shifted to a metamorphosis far greater,
far greater than any constellation could foresee,
I began to pray.
pray for someone to feel the lawful,
evergreen,
world around us.
But I was left with a deafening cry
from an endless river,
meant to be brushed off as weakness.
The empire was destined for ruin
despite our efforts to save it.
The silence withheld all instinct
and we fell.
Fell where no one could hear me.
Dec 15, 2022
Dec 15, 2022 at 2:31 AM UTC
He’s cruel and stupid, and ignores
His omened doom, pronounced, decreed,
And mine with his, no ranted screed.
Though I must speak, I pray it bores.
The direst warnings couldn’t save
My family, or those I loved.
When prophecy failed, I should have shoved
Them from the palace to some cave.
Now it’s too late to intervene,
And force can spare their murderer.
I should prevent, but I’ll demur,
And perish too. I’m just sixteen.
I’ve suffered, but don’t want to die,
Especially not matched with him.
Even so, I’ll meet my downfall prim,
Trojan royalty too brave to cry.
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 1:22 PM UTC
King Agamemnon raised a wind
When the whole fleet had lain becalmed.
He’d sacrificed, and hadn’t qualmed.
From horror he could not rescind.
His wife has taken the loss badly.
Not even kings can lessen grief,
Or render the bereft relief.
He’d give his life for hers, and gladly.
And jealousy has made it worse.
The girl is a much younger mate,
But looks and youth can’t replicate
A marriage sorrow can’t reverse.
Any captive’s understandably
A little skittish at the first.
They say she’s mad, that she’s been cursed
With visions of the things to be.
Shamans love to peddle threats
And when the worst misfortune hits
They preen like fortune’s favorites.
And they alone have no regrets.
He had refused a wheedling fraud.
And then a bunch of men got sick.
Confronted by a lunatic,
He’d given in, resigned unawed.
A warlord doesn’t quake from fear
Because a foreign princess whines.
Him frightened by his concubines?
The girl’s annoying but sincere.
Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 12:48 PM UTC
Oh, how strongly I am missing
Those simpler times when everybody would have listened
Oh, how tired am I
Of being ignored when the end is nigh
Oh, how much did I pay
For choosing chastity over Apollo's dark rays
Oh, how much will I suffer
From those evil hands that will treat me rougher
Oh, how evil gods can be
When mortals hurt their vanity
Oh, oh, oh
I wish I didn't know
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 7:39 PM UTC
i will hold a gun to my throat myself,
yet somehow,
it is less violent
than the casual words of a god.
mad girls don't cry wolf;
they die. they disappear,
like cobwebs in a darkened corner.
in the shadows, watch me dangle
with a slip knot of fuchsias.
in the shadows,
watch me dig this body up,
until there is a layer of skin
and black lips and lithium quartz
and clichéd promises
you haven't touched.
after all, archaeology is
just an excuse
to look straight at my remains.
in the shadows,
let my skin cave in;
i will take everything down —
every misery, every deception,
every corruption, and every light.
i will ***** out the ******* sun
if it kills me,
leaves me cold as bygone walls.
yet somehow,
it is less violent
than to be loved by a god, until he doesn't.
to be loved by a god, but it isn't.
to be loved by a god: a euphemism, at best
to be loved by a god
is the curse.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 2:04 AM UTC
in other worlds..." he corrected himself -
"The being in constant astonishment in other worlds - words, dies. Starves from too much food."
TOO MUCH ASTONISHMENT.
such astonishment to be unlearned in the meeting of two friends on a bench,
the opening of curtains to a blue-gold sky
the sheer pleasure of creating a world -
(word?)
- and a person and a FEELING
from a black-inked nib and a white scratched page
THIS IS THE FATE OF THE WATCHER
trapped alone in astonishment, a seer
Cassandra of ordinary happenings.
look at the living that is being LIVED!
- and never believed.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 4:25 PM UTC
Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of Greta Thunberg:
Filled with passion, warnings, truth.
Not believed.
Cassandra,
I see you in the dreams
of Calpurnia;
warning Caesar, bloodied earth
Not believed.
Cassandra,
I see you in the protections
of Tony Stark;
made with fear, love
Not believed.
Did they tell you to smile more?
Ask you why you’ve “gotten involved”?
Did they belittle your prophecy,
Ignore warning after warning?
Ignore you?
Mad woman, hysterical.
You, angered Apollo
Or
Was he always angry?
Did he believe himself so worthy
of your love that he cursed
not having it?
I don’t know.
You probably told someone
We know how that would have ended,
Cassandra,
I see you in the testimonies
of Christine Blasey Ford,
so hurt, pained, strong.
Not believed.
Were you told to sit quietly, mind your place?
When you were attacked was it your body
She defended
Or
Her own desiccated image?
Maybe you told the trees of
Ajex’s sins, because even if
the men listened,
A statue protected him from justice.
Cassandra,
I see you in the words
of impassioned protestors
so bright, so young.
Not believed.
Maybe if you told them lies
they'd believe the truth.
Maybe if you told the truth
they'd believe the lies.
Believe anything you said.
Darling Cassandra
possible bride of Apollo.
definite belonging of King Agamemnon.
Did his children believe you?
Are you a warning to women?
Love who you are told to.
Bow to authority or
Never give up.
Are you a criticism of men?
Demanding of love.
Expecting subservience.
Justice not served.
Cassandra,
I see you in myself,
the pain they caused
the light going out
I am not believed.
Cassandra,
Does it get better?
Have you received the peace you so deserve?
Or are you still
Not believed.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 9:01 PM UTC
Gods, I’ve been forsaken!
I – formerly blessed by the sun –
Cry out to you, you who leave
My words unheard.
Once a daughter to kings, I wait
Inside an indiscernible prison
For the fall of my beloved city.
I predicted this, my people, but
I cannot blame you, my people
I spurned the sun, burned my fate
And now no one will heed me.
They tell me I am
beautiful, I am brilliant, I am
insane.
They tell me
To leave the future to kings.
I spoke to you, my people
The contents of the horse
I spoke to you, my people
When we shall catch our demise
With axe and fire, I rush,
Only to face the barrage of disbelief
I hear them laughing, my people
Those who will carve their place
Where you once stood
But you will not listen.
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 9:59 PM UTC
there is hope
like a rising sun
on a distance horizon
lighting up the morning sky
pushing the darkness aside
melting the clouds away
the rays warm my face
coaxing a smile
squinting my eyes
i take a breath, savoring being alive
the sky is blueing deeper, clearer
morning haze is lifting, disappearing
life is awakening, stirring, moving
the beauty is overwhelming, awe inspiring
i see anew, with an indigo eye
things i’d sensed but never knew
i feel too deep, intuit too much
beheld as a curse, repressed, suppressed
i burned, screamed, fell into ashes
my soul lay fallow, quiet, healing, waiting
resurrecting from cold dark depths
heart beating, eyes opening, arms reaching
vindication from self doubt
forgive me Cassandra, Cairn, Mother
i weep, openly, proudly, for your grace
it is the 9th and final gift
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 2:26 PM UTC
Cassandra, Cassandra, Cassandra.
How else can you write another name in its place?
To match your dark eyes and hair,
Your smile and the fancy dresses you wear,
How does one compare?
To the books you read,
To the music you play,
To the songs you sing,
To the stories you write,
The dances you dance,
And the light you shine on the world.
The answer is:
You can't.
Nothing could be better about you,
The Beautiful Cassandra
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
It never ends, fragments of visions collapsing upon themselves painfully. Her swollen eyes opening, and bursting with orange fire. Then closing just as fast. In between those agonizing seconds she sees everything. Thousands of years cycling over and over. Visions of visions within visions.
Cassandra saw her city razed to the ground. The wall which once stood firm against the onslaught of enemies crumbling with the ravages of time. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw her own grief. Her cousin had fallen in battle. She closed her eyes again, and scratched at her itchy eyelids.
Ten weeks passed without a blink, not even a fraction of an opening. She was disciplined, but the longer she fought the more her eyelids would burn. One blink to ease the agony and she was forced to see her father’s skin. A purple mass of dead flesh bubbling swelling, exploding, and rotting, with maggots squirming in out and around till flies formed and flew away. Another corpse left out in a burning city. One among many denied a peaceful death. Buildings crumbled to dust, the bodies became one with the earth. Cassandra cried without opening her eyes. Her father stroked her long soft curls, whispering reassurances. “It’s all right my child.”
Another three or four weeks passed. She had become blinder than Tiresias the blind prophet. Unable to recall if that was a story she had heard, or would hear in the future. She sobbed spilling each and every sorrow she could. Every tragedy yet to come. Her father smiled gently placing a warm cloth upon her brow. “Shush my child these nightmares will fade soon enough.”
The young girl opened her eyes again. This time a years’ worth of history unfolded. She saw soldiers gathering arms. Battlements born of the Bronze Age burning with righteous rage. Steel blades clanging against bronze shields in preparation for war. Boats fully loaded departed.
She closed her eyes once more. It would be another two months before she opened them. In the meantime she pleaded with her father to leave the city. Day in and day out begging, sobbing, and screaming until she was sent away.
It was becoming harder and harder to keep her eyes closed. There was a burning force aching to escape. She managed five more weeks until she could bare the pain no longer. As her new sisters bathed her pale dry skin with the sweetest scented oils the young girl recited all that she saw and felt.
The first footfalls of the first soldier’s feet to touch the beach. The feel of the sand as it swirled in, out and around the soldier’s sandals. The general howling commands. The green eyes hungry for battle. The faces contorted in controlled rage. All that intensity burning under the once civilized façade. She closed her eyes again.
Cassandra sat silently in exhaustion, as the sisters slowly brushed the knots out of her long brown hair. They brought her a blindfold, which allowed only a small comfort. This time she only managed to resist for two weeks. The vision came upon her with such force that she cried out and collapsed.
Now the city was burning. Citizen screamed as they ran in terror. Brave men rushed forwards to be impaled on the spears of other brave men. Arrows swallowed the moonlight picking at the earth and scavenging for some bare flesh to devour. Blood ran like red rainwater. Streets streamed thin crimson pools diluted by warm summer showers. The stench oh, the stench, it made Cassandra ***** up chunks of soggy bread and half-digested beef mixed with red wine and stomach acid, while she tried to force her eyes to close.
Finally, she closed her eyes again. The sisters tried to sooth her sorrows, to no avail. Within a years’ time the young girl lost the ability to close her eyes. Cassandra eyeballs slowly burnt out until there was nothing left but charcoaled eye sockets. By the next year she could no longer speak. Cassandra became paralyzed by the futility of her existence.
In her mind the war had come and gone. The sieges were no longer an issue. She no longer felt the urge to cry for the dead. What was, will be, and what will be cannot be undone. What cannot be undone has already happened. Apollo had cursed her. Her beauty had enraptured him, her wit had charmed him, but her will had enraged him.
She was only thirteen with brown eyes and long hair of rare quality, soul so powerful that almost anyone who met her could feel its energy. She shamed the gods with her purity, and unwillingly ensnared their affection.
At first Apollo came with strong arms and tender words. Wooing to the point of painful pleasure. Her eyes could not handle such radiance. His skin burned as his chariot burned. Hair golden flames, skin solar yellow, eye orange as the sun. Each kiss burnt like the worse fever, taking her against her will, savaging her sanity. As if, as if being a god gave him the right to take such liberties.
Apollo viewed her early rejections with whimsy, believing them to be some cute token of her modesty. A god can afford to wait, after all eternity was on his side. After the first hundred no’s his affection gave way to anger. Until his desire could not bear rejection any longer.
At last he cried out to Cassandra. “I will have you or else.”
With a firm but fiery hand he swept her up. Forcing his mouth against hers. Parting her pursed lip with his powerful tongue. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, until tears streamed down her cheeks. She could not resist with words, because her mouth was occupied, so she took the only action she knew available to her.
She bit down as hard she could. Lava spewed from Apollo’s lips, roughly singing the inside of her mouth. Without realizing what was happening she swallowed. Her skin began to glow, tiny childlike limbs lengthened and tightened. From her eyes radiated the most powerful light ever seen by man or god. For a moment Apollo cowered beneath the awe of her power, stumbling backwards to the ground dumbfounded.
Regaining his composure he slapped her aside. Scowling in rage “How dare you. You. You worthless *****
Her lips parted now of her own volition. Her voice raged with a deep and powerful resonance. “How dare you, you whimpering fool.” The power still flowing inwards filled her with confidence. “I see you for what you are. A tool, a man made invention.” The radiance of her skin was slowly fading. “I see too much now.” She cried out in an ******** fury. A smile crossed her lips. “I see what will become of you and your ilk.”
With strength previously unimagined the young girl thrusted her small hands out throttling Apollo’s throat. He trembled in fear. “You cannot hope to contain the power of me. I am generations incarnated. Passing power from one age to the next. I will not be enslaved.” Her skin began to blink, her voice loss much of its force. “I am Cassandra, and you a merely a passing phase. I will tell the world of all I have seen.”
The last bit of godly energy faded from her skin. Cassandra collapsed. “I still see it all, and you will never touch me again.”
Apollo brushed bits of earth off his person. “See all you want, I care not.” He lunged for her. A flash of thin white light flung him back.
Confused, Apollo rose. Glaring he screamed “You may see all now. It is a gift my blood has given you, but soon it will become a curse. For no mortal wishes to believe that the fates have already written their story. They will ignore you, and in doing so you will find that this power you have gained will be for naught. Thus will be your curse to see all, with no power to stop it.”
Cassandra’s eyes opened wide, seconds split into eternity. She felt the passing of all those around her. She felts time’s stench and rot all around her. Her skin would wrinkle to a certain degree but she would be eternal. She saw cities rise and fall. Some to rise again others to be forgotten. She saw herself seeing each of these visions again and again. She lived her immortal life over and over, events unchanged be anything she said.
The only real comfort was that she saw Apollo wither away. As the old gods fell to ruins weakened by the rationality of new gods, then the rationality of structured reason. Then came the rise of something new and better. Reason with abstraction, abstraction with order, a cycle of energy which emboldened and empowered man. She chuckled.
“Go away little godling.”
And like the little thing he was, Apollo ran.
Her father shushed her, wiping the tears from her face.
The sisters bathed her; singing songs of love and adoration.
Troy fell under the onslaught.
Apollo came and went again.
Cassandra’s eyes opened wide closed and open wide once more, seconds split into eternity. She felt the passing of all those around her. She felts time’s stench and rot all around her. Her skin would wrinkle to a certain degree but she would be eternal. She saw cities rise and fall. Some to rise again others to be forgotten. She saw herself seeing each of these visions again and again. She lived her immortal life over and over, events unchanged be anything she said.
The only one real comfort was that she saw Apollo wither away. As the old gods fell to ruins weakened by the rationality of new gods, then the rationality of structured reason. Then came the rise of something new and better. Reason with abstraction, abstraction with order, a cycle of energy which emboldened and empowered man. She chuckled.
“Go away little godling.”
And like the little thing he was, Apollo ran.
Her father shushed her, wiping the tears from her face.
The sisters bathed her; singing songs of love and adoration.
Troy fell under the onslaught.
Apollo came and went again.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC