"aeneas" poems
The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws
And grasses in the mead renew their birth,
The river to the river-bed withdraws,
And altered is the fashion of the earth.
The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear
And unapparelled in the woodland play.
The swift hour and the brief prime of the year
Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye.
Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring
Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers
Comes autumn with his apples scattering;
Then back to wintertide, when nothing stirs.
But oh, whate'er the sky-led seasons mar,
Moon upon moon rebuilds it with her beams;
Come we where Tullus and where Ancus are
And good Aeneas, we are dust and dreams.
Torquatus, if the gods in heaven shall add
The morrow to the day, what tongue has told?
Feast then thy heart, for what thy heart has had
The fingers of no heir will ever hold.
When thou descendest once the shades among,
The stern assize and equal judgment o'er,
Not thy long lineage nor thy golden tongue,
No, nor thy righteousness, shall friend thee more.
Night holds Hippolytus the pure of stain,
Diana steads him nothing, he must stay;
And Theseus leaves Pirithous in the chain
The love of comrades cannot take away.
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Better to be Pyramus and Thisbe
than god Apollo and Daphne?
As love oft triumphed by envy.
Oh to be Abelard and Heloise
or Juliet you and Romeo me!
Cleopatra, Marc Antony,
Orpheus, and Eurydice!
Martyrs to Cupid, were you wary
of the price to pay? Did you find peace
from Plato’s coined mental disease
in Pluto’s long halls of Hades
or the self induced daily shade of trees?
What of love dooming kin to Achilles?
When Dido and Aeneas meet
is her suicide guaranteed?
Pray tell us, can true love ever be free!
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
Appointment to have ***** removed by robot-assisted surgeon.
Air-conditioned, no mosquitoes in the OR. When you arrive
You'll remove all your clothes. Naked before the ladies, nurses
Who have seen it all before. Mainly remember you're not unique.
Think about the government while they're mixing up the medicine.
There's always governance even if there's little or no government.
Back to counting backwards. Inside out, if I die, will I know it?
At 70, Jack's running the gauntlet with some skill!
Benny Golson wonders aloud what might have been
Had Clifford Brown not been killed in that auto accident.
Jack's girlfriend once said he was the reincarnation of Clifford
But he doesn't believe in ghosts, karma or an afterlife.
Benny's old girlfriend Betty inspired the tune Along Came Betty
And that's the most afterlife Benny or Betty's gonna get.
The Trojan bench being not as deep as the Greek
Once Sarpedon and Hector go down even the lucky shot
To Achilles' feet is not enough to save the town.
Aeneas is no match for wily Odysseus
Although unbeknownst to all he has the last laugh when Rome
Conquers Athens, the Myrmidons, what's left of Ilion
And the whole known world from India to Britain.
It's not bad to acknowledge death's primacy
Although after a while you stop remembering
To fear. That's when everything becomes clear
Purpose v. purposelessness matters less,
Anomie v. rule of law, that's a preference
Love v. loneliness, worth about 25 cents
Or a million bucks in the light of the holocaust.
Nothing but light, love and the majesty of death in the room.
Machines stand ready like marines, their beauty is in the motion
That overcomes inertia. The food supply is deeply compromised
So eat whatever you want. Mourning the dead is part of the business
Of healing and staying alive. When you get to the afterlife, walk with
eyes open,
Ocotillo and cactus may be in flower. The robot does the work,
imposes
Its own small order, like a girl on a bicycle with disorder in her hair.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
O, be my prayer to the gods, Venus
Strong waters of Stygian grey, they swell
At my feet, whilst I stand yours, Aeneas.
Olympus saw our hearts, both in a spell
But mortal flesh grows weak in senescence
It knew we should never be, for you are
Too perfect. I took this, such deliverance
From hopeless time, myself at your alter.
For if man were to couple with the gods
‘Haps, then earthly loves would not fade so fast
Take a gentle godhand, this man applauds
Aeneas is now a name for the past
She cries, Jove-blessed, ‘gainst my youth diurnal
Where a golden sky is ours eternal.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
Jinx! You owe me a haggis!
Sheep! Sheep! Sheep boing!
I tried to connect the two.
I am glad that someone loves my discursive stuff.
I feel thrilled that someone validates me.
Tell me why again? Why why why not?
Did you mention socks? Why?
You’re a sock! Your face is a sock!
A pair of socks! I laugh!
You didn’t anticipate that one, did you?
I will nevar stop. Nevar.
Yes. An alternate spelling.
Hehehehehehe.
Be bold. Be bold like Leeroy Jenkins.
Yas. Chicken music. Yas.
He was brave, he led the charge.
On monkeys and elders, what was our conclusion?
Monkeys are silly, elders are catnip.
I am silly. This poem is silly.
Hehe. You know what I’m about to say next.
We must keep it a secret.
Sheep! Sheep boing!
Figure out what that pakis-ectomy is.
Yeah? Yeah? Well, you’re a pakis.
I guess that Wyatt Cenac
said it best:
I have to fool you. I am fooling you.
Aeneas, Cooper, Pedro, and Boo.
They are all amicable with each other.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
I want you to bleed me thin
I want you to run me ragged
I want you to make me scream until I lose my voice
I want you to make me feel something unordinary
I want to tear my hair out in frustration
I want to throw things and break them
I want you to break down my walls &make; me cry
I want you to stomp my heart out like a cigarette
I want you to beat me until the only thing I cling to is you
Until you're the only poison in my system
Until you've broken all my other nasty habits
&You;'ve established yourself as the only one left
I want you to be integral to me
I want your dominance to push me into submission
Be my Queen, I'll be your Knight of the Cart
Be my Aeneas, I'll be your Dido
Be unchanged by my passion
Be unmoved when I flow on you, around you, in you
I want you to shape the way I sway
I want you to take over all that I am
Establish yourself as my identity
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
Kidnaped love due to ravenous lust
Brings a thriving city to soot and dust
Villagers armed ready with sword to ******
Defending till their doom due to mistrust
Survivors now trapped in wanderlust
Till one rises and gains all trust
Follow! Follow! Follow you must
Till Rome is found and armor rust
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
How thin must Cassius be
For Caesar to not trust?
He had good reason not to for
A dagger he did ******
But intentions unbeknownst to he
Just eyes a gossamer frame.
With an ambitious hunger
To keep crown from being proclaimed.
For in the Tiber Caesar did flounder
As if he were the archaic Anchises.
A yelp for help for Gaius Cassius
To save him from this crisis.
And he as Aeneas,their great ancestor
Lifted that mortal Julius upon his shoulder.
Waded through the angry flood
And dropped him down like a boulder.
How could you not trust
A man that saved your life?
Doing something so careless
Maybe deserves the ambitious knife.
Et tu, plebeian?
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
So, was this Aeneas, who called on Jove to strike him dead, or else end his wanderings? Was this Aeneas who wept on the deck of his ship?
Malcontent breads poetry as flies circle dungheaps and lay their larvae within.
This was Aeneas, the cheerful man who wept on board his ship.
Somewhere between College Park and Westland Row I sank for a moment into the earth.
This was Aeneas, the good.
So, with the chimneys of the city as rosary beads, I shake my fist at Jove, and repeat the words of Aeneas.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Alas fair Barns, draped b'twixt gilded gold,
sat on underground for riches untold.
Defense of the Nation'list he began
While scorning folks faces glazed'n'deadpan;
Fair Barns did muster up afearful roar
He'd told it once, Now he'd tell it once more:
Since the dawn of us, in modest abode
Have suffered missed hours, suffered plans unsowed
These pesky tube drivers, hath goest to
The deep pits of Hades, not yonder blue!
The storm he musterd set Aeneas to flight
As river of Tiberius sowed sweet delight.
The sybilline wisdom he did doth bear
Got him kicked off, without said recompence fare.
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
Nature's Retreat
My heart sings songs parallel to the dance of rain
Where lyrics speak true to nature's mighty chorus
Of colorful leaves burned from early frost
Where green becomes gold and gold turns to red
And the animals, both big and small, hurry to get to bed
My heart speaks to these changes all around me
Embracing Fortuna as if she were my mother
Wishing that I, like the leaves, could also fall and be free
Released from loose bonds that sway with but a breeze
From mighty ****** third of his name, God of the wind
Who that deceitful Juno deceived, to blow steadfast
Aeneas away from hearts true love, to a bigger purpose
His own Goddess to please
Yet... It was not to be for me
Too strong were the currents from that vengeful Neptune
Who then commanded blue Oceanus to summon the monstrous gray Charybdis
Pulling down on the brown oars of my life, seeking to consume
That which I thought mine, as if spoken by an Oracle,
A future as free and varied as a rain soaked forest in fall
Before all falls to rest within the spiteful white teeth of winter
Leaving me to dance in the decay of nature's retreat
I then cry with Terra Mater, reminding her of the days
Where our hearts sang and we spoke in hushed whispers
Excited for the seasons change and the chance to rest
Yet... I am not prepared to say goodbye to her
Her beauty, to me, shines brighter than burning Sol
Me, a moth to her flame, is lost when she is away
Tormented by the memories of life living only to die
An endless cycle of pain that numbs the days spent waiting
For spring to rise once again and refresh my heart
From the desolation of the icy purgatory
And empty forests, skeletal in appearance,
A drab contrast to the songs of revival and lush trees
That are a favorite of the myriad dryads and nymphs
Whom orchestrate the natural melody of the Earth
While patiently awaiting my summer heat
I miss them like I will her, for soon I shall fall like the rain
Patiently awaiting my rebirth so that I might dance with her again
Oct 26, 2024
Oct 26, 2024 at 3:44 PM UTC
What is life?
Something that jabs with a knife.
What is pride?
Something that is like cyanide.
What is happiness?
Something that is aeneas.
Why is happiness represented by yellow?
Merely because it was decided by a fellow.
Why is life in shambles?
Because the path is covered in brambles.
Why is pride masked by woe?
Because we all feel part of a sideshow.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
Cursed? Condemned?
To wander the Earth for eternity?
Aeneas, or Cain as some call him,
Was a person of renown - a leader and scholar.
Part of the crew of Odysseus,
He was called to the ship
But neglected to board it.
The name of the isle of flowers?
The Garden of Eden.
It's caretaker? Cybele.
Before the isle
Aeneas, like others,
Were offered the Trials.
This was to visit all the places
Currently & properly "gardened."
Reward for completion of the Trials
Was longevity, strength, et cetera.
Gnomen & Seers had procured,
Through generations of Trial & error,
A potent cataplasm
Which they learned to mutate/grow
Into a selected fruit.
Like an apple.
The Garden of Eden
Was a place of experimentation,
Much in the same vein as the Tower of Babel.
Where the Tower of Babel was focused
On the development and perfection of communication;
In things like language, oration, poetry, literature, et cetera
The Garden of Eden was focused
On experimentation with different forms of chemicals.
Chemicals, of course, coming in many forms;
Plants, minerals, other natural phenomena, substances & combinations, et cetera.
Part of this was experimentation with psychotropics,
Attempting to develop natural immunities
To such things like alcohol and cannabis.
Aeneas & Cybele,
Driven mad by drugs & mental-illness,
Left the isle.
For Aeneas was a rule-breaker
And confided in Cybele all that he understood and knew
About the Trials.
Aeneas had one trial left,
The Maze.
The Maze was enormous.
Upon its walls
All of human history was carved,
The entirety of that which was experienced by us.
All that had been relayed by various Gnomen & Seers
Through generation after generation.
Carved in ways that could be universally understood,
At least by those living within those ancient societies.
The red thread?
A guide to weapons, combat, subjugation/domination, et cetera.
This area of the Maze
Also housed a weapons cache
In the event the Maze was threatened or attacked.
Who informed Aeneas of the red thread?
Cybele.
Who informed Cybele?
Scylla.
You see, as previously mentioned,
Part of the Trials was to visit
All these areas which had been "gardened."
Auxiliary to this
Was to visit all those
Who had been deemed unworthy or had failed the Trials,
Like Scylla had been before meeting Cybele.
Living cautionary tales,
"Condemned" not to "wander"
But to live out their natural existences
On isles which were gardened for beings
Like predators and plant life which was vicious.
It was Scylla who "blew" Odysseus & his crew off course,
Knowing of Cybele & Eden.
Cybele who later drugged the "Minotaur."
Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 12:37 PM UTC
The Gordian Knot?
¹ The mesh of civilization.
To untie it is to understand it,
To know it.
This is to TIGHTEN it.
To cleave it is to try to conquer it;
It all comes undone,
Never to be re-strung.
You can be Prometheus,
Who was actually always celebrated,
Or you can be Aeneas -
The one who was really ChAINhed to the rock.
What matters is learning,
² All else is for naught.
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 1:05 PM UTC
For peace is my profession
And I teach it like a Spartan
But my Athens begs the question
Do I come from planet Martian?
To keep council with your leaders
And to teach them how to build
In my likeness amphitheaters
And pay tribute to my guild
My Pax Romana in nirvana
Specializing in the art
Of planting seeds inside Madonnas
With my heathen Eden heart
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 2:16 PM UTC
Beloved,
Facing death is but the ultimate test of character.
I don't want to die,
But if I must
I choose to do it with pride
And loads of impudence.
Beloved,
Dying is bad enough
But to lose my sense of humor
Would be sacrilege.
I haven't lost all hope yet,
I haven't given up yet.
Beloved,
The great pyres of hell I fear not,
Though my sins are great in number.
I fear not the four horsemen
As described to John of Patmos,
I fear not the white horse,
No matter how righteous.
Beloved,
With your hand holding mine,
Among friends, among flowers,
Among beauty and poetry,
I intend to leave now.
I must join with Charon,
Son of Nyx and Erebus,
By the shores of the Styx
Like Aeneas did once.
Beloved,
From the deepest of abysses
I can hear your voice, crying,
Asking me to hang on
To the feel that once was.
I can see those black pools,
Those eyes that once hunted
Me in dreams
Welling up with those tears made of salt.
Beloved,
I had only dreams of
Galaxies and stars.
Beloved,
Now you see
Not even death itself could draw us apart;
You're the heart in my day
And the sun in my night.
Beloved,
Well know I you're no fan of goodbyes,
So instead, I'll say:
"Until next time, we'll meet
In the next life. "
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 11:23 PM UTC