#seagullsden
I am Odysseus;
the traveler, the seeker,
and with you in mind I braved
two months that felt like twenty years
And here I am now,
on an all too familiar shore,
alone on landfall, yearning for home
but Penelope has lost her patience;
There is no warmth to be found here,
only a strung bow and a deserted bed.
Dashed dreams and the forgotten future
appear in place of my heart’s destination
Yes, I was the one who left
but you never left my thinking mind
Yes, I was the one who left
but you were the one to abandon me
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 9:46 PM UTC
For a reflection to be cast
there must be light
and so Apep was made
inferior in the mirror’s image,
cast below the waters of creation
like an afterthought.
And Ra was cast above,
circling the vast world beneath
but never removing his eye from his other.
What does brotherhood mean to the gods?
Is it only a likeness that threatens to ****
A series of copies, each one
serving to dilute the last,
until the original is a dull blade
that cannot even **** itself.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 10:51 PM UTC
It was in a rage
that Menoetius cursed his mother,
furious that she implicated doom
in the naming of her son.
It was in a rage again
that Menoetius cursed his father,
livid that he’d been roughly hewn
and to violence he succumbed.
It was in a rage against himself
that Menoetius coerced the thunder.
Even before the bolt had boomed
he knew his anger was outdone.
Regardless, he had won;
only with rage, can rage be numbed.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 10:06 AM UTC
The depictions of
the gods are headless.
The pillars have crumbled.
The spirit has atrophied
and the wonder has gone.
No longer for Dionysus,
a temple to Aion.
Profaned by order and rule,
rigidity takes the place of passion.
In the name of culture,
the wealthy get wealthier.
No longer for Dionysus,
a temple to Plutus.
Blind to what is before them,
passerby’s idolize themselves.
The ancient amphitheater;
a backdrop for plastic portraits.
No longer for Dionysus,
a temple to Narcissus.
Power shifts in the modern age.
Worship changes form.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
I’ve only just arrived
and we’ve surrendered to time,
forfeiting our lives
to present moment a crime
Distance the traveler’s curse,
separation the test;
the lonesome heart bursts
through the wanderer’s chest
I’ll brave the loveless trips, oh
the future envelops me
You are my Athena, my Calypso,
my sweetest Penelope
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 8:39 AM UTC
I am Hylas
and my voice is the echo,
my desire is the spring
and my mind is the bronze pitcher
that I have desperately filled with you
And how I long to tumble clumsily
in the throes of wine drunk love,
with you, my ever present but distant nymph;
forever in wonder of the parallels of myth
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC