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Yozhik May 2017
I swallowed Charybdis somehow...
I was in the Dire Strait(s) of Messyna,
Doing my Odyssey thing (such is life)
And I just swallowed Charybdis.
The funny thing is this
Maelstrom, it fits
Within me just fine
It's even vaguely useful
(drank that Scylla's blood like wine)
But there's still a sensation
I have of...mild annihilation
Of everything that was mine.

But it all still seems fine
I may be filled with a vacuum
of violent wailing waves that's
coated my heart with rime
But it'll melt with time.
(I imagine.)  

But one thing does now worry me
Moving forward, my journey
Leads to that pesky island.
Helios's; the Island of the Sun!
(Yes he's quite a brilliant one)
Now that might warm my blood
And it might tame the waves
Transform the vacuum to a tender sea
Giving more control to me
Less reckless and more truly free...
Live as who I was born to be...

But also-- Charybdis might just like...
eat all the Sun's special cows or whatever
and either he will never rise again
or I'll get speared with a lightning bolt
Which both would ****.
So I'm stuck
Imprisoned by Charybdis (ironically)
I sit here a bit catatonically
As I lock up Charybdis
Wondering how the hell (Hades?)
This monster fits within.
and wondering who swallowed who.
“After we were clear of the river Oceanus, and had got out into
the open sea, we went on till we reached the Aeaean island where there
is dawn and sunrise as in other places. We then drew our ship on to
the sands and got out of her on to the shore, where we went to sleep
and waited till day should break.
  “Then, when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, I
sent some men to Circe’s house to fetch the body of Elpenor. We cut
firewood from a wood where the headland jutted out into the sea, and
after we had wept over him and lamented him we performed his funeral
rites. When his body and armour had been burned to ashes, we raised
a cairn, set a stone over it, and at the top of the cairn we fixed the
oar that he had been used to row with.
  “While we were doing all this, Circe, who knew that we had got
back from the house of Hades, dressed herself and came to us as fast
as she could; and her maid servants came with her bringing us bread,
meat, and wine. Then she stood in the midst of us and said, ‘You
have done a bold thing in going down alive to the house of Hades,
and you will have died twice, to other people’s once; now, then,
stay here for the rest of the day, feast your fill, and go on with
your voyage at daybreak tomorrow morning. In the meantime I will
tell Ulysses about your course, and will explain everything to him
so as to prevent your suffering from misadventure either by land or
sea.’
  “We agreed to do as she had said, and feasted through the livelong
day to the going down of the sun, but when the sun had set and it came
on dark, the men laid themselves down to sleep by the stern cables
of the ship. Then Circe took me by the hand and bade me be seated away
from the others, while she reclined by my side and asked me all
about our adventures.
  “‘So far so good,’ said she, when I had ended my story, ‘and now pay
attention to what I am about to tell you—heaven itself, indeed,
will recall it to your recollection. First you will come to the Sirens
who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too
close and hears the singing of the Sirens, his wife and children
will never welcome him home again, for they sit in a green field and
warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. There is a great
heap of dead men’s bones lying all around, with the flesh still
rotting off them. Therefore pass these Sirens by, and stop your
men’s ears with wax that none of them may hear; but if you like you
can listen yourself, for you may get the men to bind you as you
stand upright on a cross-piece half way up the mast, and they must
lash the rope’s ends to the mast itself, that you may have the
pleasure of listening. If you beg and pray the men to unloose you,
then they must bind you faster.
  “‘When your crew have taken you past these Sirens, I cannot give you
coherent directions as to which of two courses you are to take; I will
lay the two alternatives before you, and you must consider them for
yourself. On the one hand there are some overhanging rocks against
which the deep blue waves of Amphitrite beat with terrific fury; the
blessed gods call these rocks the Wanderers. Here not even a bird
may pass, no, not even the timid doves that bring ambrosia to Father
Jove, but the sheer rock always carries off one of them, and Father
Jove has to send another to make up their number; no ship that ever
yet came to these rocks has got away again, but the waves and
whirlwinds of fire are freighted with wreckage and with the bodies
of dead men. The only vessel that ever sailed and got through, was the
famous Argo on her way from the house of Aetes, and she too would have
gone against these great rocks, only that Juno piloted her past them
for the love she bore to Jason.
  “‘Of these two rocks the one reaches heaven and its peak is lost
in a dark cloud. This never leaves it, so that the top is never
clear not even in summer and early autumn. No man though he had twenty
hands and twenty feet could get a foothold on it and climb it, for
it runs sheer up, as smooth as though it had been polished. In the
middle of it there is a large cavern, looking West and turned
towards Erebus; you must take your ship this way, but the cave is so
high up that not even the stoutest archer could send an arrow into it.
Inside it Scylla sits and yelps with a voice that you might take to be
that of a young hound, but in truth she is a dreadful monster and no
one—not even a god—could face her without being terror-struck. She
has twelve mis-shapen feet, and six necks of the most prodigious
length; and at the end of each neck she has a frightful head with
three rows of teeth in each, all set very close together, so that they
would crunch any one to death in a moment, and she sits deep within
her shady cell thrusting out her heads and peering all round the rock,
fishing for dolphins or dogfish or any larger monster that she can
catch, of the thousands with which Amphitrite teems. No ship ever
yet got past her without losing some men, for she shoots out all her
heads at once, and carries off a man in each mouth.
  “‘You will find the other rocks lie lower, but they are so close
together that there is not more than a bowshot between them. [A
large fig tree in full leaf grows upon it], and under it lies the
******* whirlpool of Charybdis. Three times in the day does she
***** forth her waters, and three times she ***** them down again; see
that you be not there when she is *******, for if you are, Neptune
himself could not save you; you must hug the Scylla side and drive
ship by as fast as you can, for you had better lose six men than
your whole crew.’
  “‘Is there no way,’ said I, ‘of escaping Charybdis, and at the
same time keeping Scylla off when she is trying to harm my men?’
  “‘You dare-devil,’ replied the goddess, you are always wanting to
fight somebody or something; you will not let yourself be beaten
even by the immortals. For Scylla is not mortal; moreover she is
savage, extreme, rude, cruel and invincible. There is no help for
it; your best chance will be to get by her as fast as ever you can,
for if you dawdle about her rock while you are putting on your armour,
she may catch you with a second cast of her six heads, and snap up
another half dozen of your men; so drive your ship past her at full
speed, and roar out lustily to Crataiis who is Scylla’s dam, bad
luck to her; she will then stop her from making a second raid upon
you.
  “‘You will now come to the Thrinacian island, and here you will
see many herds of cattle and flocks of sheep belonging to the sun-god-
seven herds of cattle and seven flocks of sheep, with fifty head in
each flock. They do not breed, nor do they become fewer in number, and
they are tended by the goddesses Phaethusa and Lampetie, who are
children of the sun-god Hyperion by Neaera. Their mother when she
had borne them and had done suckling them sent them to the
Thrinacian island, which was a long way off, to live there and look
after their father’s flocks and herds. If you leave these flocks
unharmed, and think of nothing but getting home, you may yet after
much hardship reach Ithaca; but if you harm them, then I forewarn
you of the destruction both of your ship and of your comrades; and
even though you may yourself escape, you will return late, in bad
plight, after losing all your men.’
  “Here she ended, and dawn enthroned in gold began to show in heaven,
whereon she returned inland. I then went on board and told my men to
loose the ship from her moorings; so they at once got into her, took
their places, and began to smite the grey sea with their oars.
Presently the great and cunning goddess Circe befriended us with a
fair wind that blew dead aft, and stayed steadily with us, keeping our
sails well filled, so we did whatever wanted doing to the ship’s gear,
and let her go as wind and helmsman headed her.
  “Then, being much troubled in mind, I said to my men, ‘My friends,
it is not right that one or two of us alone should know the prophecies
that Circe has made me, I will therefore tell you about them, so
that whether we live or die we may do so with our eyes open. First she
said we were to keep clear of the Sirens, who sit and sing most
beautifully in a field of flowers; but she said I might hear them
myself so long as no one else did. Therefore, take me and bind me to
the crosspiece half way up the mast; bind me as I stand upright,
with a bond so fast that I cannot possibly break away, and lash the
rope’s ends to the mast itself. If I beg and pray you to set me
free, then bind me more tightly still.’
  “I had hardly finished telling everything to the men before we
reached the island of the two Sirens, for the wind had been very
favourable. Then all of a sudden it fell dead calm; there was not a
breath of wind nor a ripple upon the water, so the men furled the
sails and stowed them; then taking to their oars they whitened the
water with the foam they raised in rowing. Meanwhile I look a large
wheel of wax and cut it up small with my sword. Then I kneaded the wax
in my strong hands till it became soft, which it soon did between
the kneading and the rays of the sun-god son of Hyperion. Then I
stopped the ears of all my men, and they bound me hands and feet to
the mast as I stood upright on the crosspiece; but they went on rowing
themselves. When we had got within earshot of the land, and the ship
was going at a good rate, the Sirens saw that we were getting in shore
and began with their singing.
  “‘Come here,’ they sang, ‘renowned Ulysses, honour to the Achaean
name, and listen to our two voices. No one ever sailed past us without
staying to hear the enchanting sweetness of our song—and he who
listens will go on his way not only charmed, but wiser, for we know
all the ills that the gods laid upon the Argives and Trojans before
Troy, and can tell you everything that is going to happen over the
whole world.’
  “They sang these words most musically, and as I longed to hear
them further I made by frowning to my men that they should set me
free; but they quickened their stroke, and Eurylochus and Perimedes
bound me with still stronger bonds till we had got out of hearing of
the Sirens’ voices. Then my men took the wax from their ears and
unbound me.
  “Immediately after we had got past the island I saw a great wave
from which spray was rising, and I heard a loud roaring sound. The men
were so frightened that they loosed hold of their oars, for the
whole sea resounded with the rushing of the waters, but the ship
stayed where it was, for the men had left off rowing. I went round,
therefore, and exhorted them man by man not to lose heart.
  “‘My friends,’ said I, ‘this is not the first time that we have been
in danger, and we are in nothing like so bad a case as when the
Cyclops shut us up in his cave; nevertheless, my courage and wise
counsel saved us then, and we shall live to look back on all this as
well. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say, trust in Jove and row on
with might and main. As for you, coxswain, these are your orders;
attend to them, for the ship is in your hands; turn her head away from
these steaming rapids and hug the rock, or she will give you the
slip and be over yonder before you know where you are, and you will be
the death of us.’
  “So they did as I told them; but I said nothing about the awful
monster Scylla, for I knew the men would not on rowing if I did, but
would huddle together in the hold. In one thing only did I disobey
Circe’s strict instructions—I put on my armour. Then seizing two
strong spears I took my stand on the ship Is bows, for it was there
that I expected first to see the monster of the rock, who was to do my
men so much harm; but I could not make her out anywhere, though I
strained my eyes with looking the gloomy rock all over and over
  “Then we entered the Straits in great fear of mind, for on the one
hand was Scylla, and on the other dread Charybdis kept ******* up
the salt water. As she vomited it up, it was like the water in a
cauldron when it is boiling over upon a great fire, and the spray
reached the top of the rocks on either side. When she began to ****
again, we could see the water all inside whirling round and round, and
it made a deafening sound as it broke against the rocks. We could
see the bottom of the whirlpool all black with sand and mud, and the
men were at their wit’s ends for fear. While we were taken up with
this, and were expecting each moment to be our last, Scylla pounced
down suddenly upon us and snatched up my six best men. I was looking
at once after both ship and men, and in a moment I saw their hands and
feet ever so high above me, struggling in the air as Scylla was
carrying them off, and I heard them call out my name in one last
despairing cry. As a fisherman, seated, spear in hand, upon some
jutting rock throws bait into the water to deceive the poor little
fishes, and spears them with the ox’s horn with which his spear is
shod, throwing them gasping on to the land as he catches them one by
one—even so did Scylla land these panting creatures on her rock and
munch them up at the mouth of her den, while they screamed and
stretched out their hands to me in their mortal agony. This was the
most sickening sight that I saw throughout all my voyages.
  “When we had passed the [Wandering] rocks, with Scylla and
terrible Charybdis, we reached the noble island of the sun-god,
where were the goodly cattle and sheep belonging to the sun
Hyperion. While still at sea in my ship I could bear the cattle lowing
as they came home to the yards, and the sheep bleating. Then I
remembered what the blind Theban prophet Teiresias had told me, and
how carefully Aeaean Circe had warned me to shun the island of the
blessed sun-god. So being much troubled I said to the men, ‘My men,
I know you are hard pressed, but listen while I tell you the
prophecy that Teiresias made me, and how carefully Aeaean Circe warned
me to shun the island of the blessed sun-god, for it was here, she
said, that our worst danger would lie. Head the ship, therefore,
away from the island.’
  “The men were in despair at this, and Eurylochus at once gave me
an insolent answer. ‘Ulysses,’ said he, ‘you are cruel; you are very
strong yourself and never get worn out; you seem to be made of iron,
and now, though your men are exhausted with toil and want of sleep,
you will not let them land and cook themselves a good supper upon this
island, but bid them put out to sea and go faring fruitlessly on
through the watches of the flying night. It is by night that the winds
blow hardest and do so much damage; how can we escape should one of
those sudden squalls spring up from South West or West, which so often
wreck a vessel when our lords the gods are unpropitious? Now,
therefore, let us obey the of night and prepare our supper here hard
by the ship; to-morrow morning we will go on board again and put out
to sea.’
  “Thus spoke Eurylochus, and the men approved his words. I saw that
heaven meant us a mischief and said, ‘You force me to yield, for you
are many against one, but at any rate each one of you must take his
solemn oath that if he meet with a herd of cattle or a large flock
of sheep, he will not be so mad as to **** a single head of either,
but will be satisfied with the food that Circe has given us.’
  “They all swore as I bade them, and when they had completed their
oath we made the ship fast in a harbour that was near a stream of
fresh water, and the men went ashore and cooked their suppers. As soon
as they had had enough to eat and drink, they began talking about
their poor comrades whom Scylla had snatched up and eaten; this set
them weeping and they went on crying till they fell off into a sound
sleep.
  “In the third watch of the night when the stars had shifted their
places, Jove raised a great gale of wind that flew a hurricane so that
land and sea were covered with thick clouds, and night sprang forth
out of the heavens. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn,
appeared, we brought the ship to land and drew her into a cave wherein
the sea-nymphs hold their courts and dances, and
Third Eye Candy Dec 2012
a bottle of scotch had bad dreams.
bullets twitch, junk sick
in 3 inch thick
mustard ****.
toe nails clipped from yeti  
lay strewn about the **** stained corpse
of a motel six dixie cup -
root canal trophy,
next to
a black fez
with scab tassel
upended.
down in it. belching apnea
propaganda
and belladonna
waiting for curious george
to find a shotgun
and a yellow
hat

and a brick banana.

blowflies inhale the rank damp
of a fresh ****.
the odd dog whines
like a clown in -
a blender.
[ the ]
house wins
with a marked card; jabbing fat fingers
into acned rosacea
bloated with sleep lack
and mortgage
back stab
chasing twenty ******
with a hollow point
pull from an acid
flask

while hailing a black cab.

tinsel sutures
stitch eyelids as a mercy
shattered bone knit
hand-grenade
cozies
old glory, at half mast
half wasted
fifty stars, no light
dragging on
the grounds of immunity
to do a line
of coke stock
with a basset hounds'
finesse.

your taxes at work
in columbia,
hiding from a lost farm
in Idaho

your american dream
turning tricks in shanghai
for a counterfeit
egga roll

your meme, devoid
like an ice cube
tombstone

your freedom, parking cars
for italian escorts
smoking skin flutes
for ferraris
and white teeth.

your integrity, sold to a hedge fund
for astroglide and a pez dispenser
packed with prozac
pressed by ' Jose the butcher' s abuela
in a narco slum
that ain't seen radio
since cinder blocks
had wings.
A re-posting of a deleted work. please enjoy.
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634, Before

The Earl Of Bridgewater, Then President Of Wales.

The Persons

        The ATTENDANT SPIRIT, afterwards in the habit of THYRSIS.
COMUS, with his Crew.
The LADY.
FIRST BROTHER.
SECOND BROTHER.
SABRINA, the Nymph.

The Chief Persons which presented were:—

The Lord Brackley;
Mr. Thomas Egerton, his Brother;
The Lady Alice Egerton.


The first Scene discovers a wild wood.
The ATTENDANT SPIRIT descends or enters.


Before the starry threshold of Jove’s court
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes
Of bright aerial spirits live insphered
In regions mild of calm and serene air,
Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot
Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care,
Confined and pestered in this pinfold here,
Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,
Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives,
After this mortal change, to her true servants
Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats.
Yet some there be that by due steps aspire
To lay their just hands on that golden key
That opes the palace of eternity.
To Such my errand is; and, but for such,
I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds
With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould.
         But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway
Of every salt flood and each ebbing stream,
Took in by lot, ‘twixt high and nether Jove,
Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles
That, like to rich and various gems, inlay
The unadorned ***** of the deep;
Which he, to grace his tributary gods,
By course commits to several government,
And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns
And wield their little tridents. But this Isle,
The greatest and the best of all the main,
He quarters to his blue-haired deities;
And all this tract that fronts the falling sun
A noble Peer of mickle trust and power
Has in his charge, with tempered awe to guide
An old and haughty nation, proud in arms:
Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore,
Are coming to attend their father’s state,
And new-intrusted sceptre. But their way
Lies through the perplexed paths of this drear wood,
The nodding horror of whose shady brows
Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger;
And here their tender age might suffer peril,
But that, by quick command from sovran Jove,
I was despatched for their defence and guard:
And listen why; for I will tell you now
What never yet was heard in tale or song,
From old or modern bard, in hall or bower.
         Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape
Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine,
After the Tuscan mariners transformed,
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,
On Circe’s island fell. (Who knows not Circe,
The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup
Whoever tasted lost his upright shape,
And downward fell into a grovelling swine?)
This Nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks,
With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth,
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son
Much like his father, but his mother more,
Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus named:
Who, ripe and frolic of his full-grown age,
Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields,
At last betakes him to this ominous wood,
And, in thick shelter of black shades imbowered,
Excels his mother at her mighty art;
Offering to every weary traveller
His orient liquor in a crystal glass,
To quench the drouth of Phoebus; which as they taste
(For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst),
Soon as the potion works, their human count’nance,
The express resemblance of the gods, is changed
Into some brutish form of wolf or bear,
Or ounce or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,
All other parts remaining as they were.
And they, so perfect is their misery,
Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
But boast themselves more comely than before,
And all their friends and native home forget,
To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.
Therefore, when any favoured of high Jove
Chances to pass through this adventurous glade,
Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star
I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy,
As now I do. But first I must put off
These my sky-robes, spun out of Iris’ woof,
And take the weeds and likeness of a swain
That to the service of this house belongs,
Who, with his soft pipe and smooth-dittied song,
Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar,
And hush the waving woods; nor of less faith
And in this office of his mountain watch
Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid
Of this occasion. But I hear the tread
Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now.


COMUS enters, with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in the
other: with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of
wild
beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel
glistering.
They come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in
their hands.


         COMUS. The star that bids the shepherd fold
Now the top of heaven doth hold;
And the gilded car of day
His glowing axle doth allay
In the steep Atlantic stream;
And the ***** sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky pole,
Pacing toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the east.
Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast,
Midnight shout and revelry,
Tipsy dance and jollity.
Braid your locks with rosy twine,
Dropping odours, dropping wine.
Rigour now is gone to bed;
And Advice with scrupulous head,
Strict Age, and sour Severity,
With their grave saws, in slumber lie.
We, that are of purer fire,
Imitate the starry quire,
Who, in their nightly watchful spheres,
Lead in swift round the months and years.
The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,
Now to the moon in wavering morrice move;
And on the tawny sands and shelves
Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
By dimpled brook and fountain-brim,
The wood-nymphs, decked with daisies trim,
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:
What hath night to do with sleep?
Night hath better sweets to prove;
Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.
Come, let us our rights begin;
‘T is only daylight that makes sin,
Which these dun shades will ne’er report.
Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport,
Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flame
Of midnight torches burns! mysterious dame,
That ne’er art called but when the dragon womb
Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the air!
Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,
Wherein thou ridest with Hecat’, and befriend
Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
Ere the blabbing eastern scout,
The nice Morn on the Indian steep,
From her cabined loop-hole peep,
And to the tell-tale Sun descry
Our concealed solemnity.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

                              The Measure.

         Break off, break off! I feel the different pace
Of some chaste footing near about this ground.
Run to your shrouds within these brakes and trees;
Our number may affright. Some ****** sure
(For so I can distinguish by mine art)
Benighted in these woods! Now to my charms,
And to my wily trains: I shall ere long
Be well stocked with as fair a herd as grazed
About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl
My dazzling spells into the spongy air,
Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,
And give it false presentments, lest the place
And my quaint habits breed astonishment,
And put the damsel to suspicious flight;
Which must not be, for that’s against my course.
I, under fair pretence of friendly ends,
And well-placed words of glozing courtesy,
Baited with reasons not unplausible,
Wind me into the easy-hearted man,
And hug him into snares. When once her eye
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,
I shall appear some harmless villager
Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear.
But here she comes; I fairly step aside,
And hearken, if I may her business hear.

The LADY enters.

         LADY. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,
My best guide now. Methought it was the sound
Of riot and ill-managed merriment,
Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe
Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds,
When, for their teeming flocks and granges full,
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,
And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth
To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence
Of such late wassailers; yet, oh! where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out
With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favour of these pines,
Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket-side
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
As the kind hospitable woods provide.
They left me then when the grey-hooded Even,
Like a sad votarist in palmer’s ****,
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus’ wain.
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labour of my thoughts. TTis likeliest
They had engaged their wandering steps too far;
And envious darkness, ere they could return,
Had stole them from me. Else, O thievish Night,
Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars
That Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps
With everlasting oil to give due light
To the misled and lonely traveller?
This is the place, as well as I may guess,
Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth
Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear;
Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
What might this be ? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,
Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire,
And airy tongues that syllable men’s names
On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.
These thoughts may startle well, but not astound
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,
Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings,
And thou unblemished form of Chastity!
I see ye visibly, and now believe
That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
Would send a glistering guardian, if need were,
To keep my life and honour unassailed. . . .
Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err: there does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.
I cannot hallo to my brothers, but
Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest
I’ll venture; for my new-enlivened spirits
Prompt me, and they perhaps are not far off.

Song.

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv’st unseen
                 Within thy airy shell
         By slow Meander’s margent green,
And in the violet-embroidered vale
         Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
         That likest thy Narcissus are?
                  O, if thou have
         Hid them in some flowery cave,
                  Tell me but where,
         Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere!
         So may’st thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all Heaven’s harmonies!


         COMUS. Can any mortal mixture of earthUs mould
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
Sure something holy lodges in that breast,
And with these raptures moves the vocal air
To testify his hidden residence.
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night,
At every fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard
My mother Circe with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,
Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs,
Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul,
And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,
And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause.
Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense,
And in sweet madness robbed it of itself;
But such a sacred and home-felt delight,
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
I never heard till now. I’ll speak to her,
And she shall be my queen.QHail, foreign wonder!
Whom certain these rough shades did never breed,
Unless the goddess that in rural shrine
Dwell’st here with Pan or Sylvan, by blest song
Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog
To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood.
         LADY. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise
That is addressed to unattending ears.
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my severed company,
Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossy couch.
         COMUS: What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?
         LADY. Dim darkness and this leafy labyrinth.
         COMUS. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides?
         LADY. They left me weary on a grassy turf.
         COMUS. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?
         LADY. To seek i’ the valley some cool friendly spring.
         COMUS. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady?
         LADY. They were but twain, and purposed quick return.
         COMUS. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.
         LADY. How easy my misfortune is to hit!
         COMUS. Imports their loss, beside the present need?
         LADY. No less than if I should my brothers lose.
         COMUS. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?
         LADY. As smooth as ****’s their unrazored lips.
         COMUS. Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox
In his loose traces from the furrow came,
And the swinked hedger at his supper sat.
I saw them under a green mantling vine,
That crawls along the side of yon small hill,
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;
Their port was more than human, as they stood.
I took it for a faery vision
Of some gay creatures of the element,
That in the colours of the rainbow live,
And play i’ the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook,
And, as I passed, I worshiped. If those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to Heaven
To help you find them.
         LADY.                          Gentle villager,
What readiest way would bring me to that place?
         COMUS. Due west it rises from this shrubby point.
         LADY. To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose,
In such a scant allowance of star-light,
Would overtask the best land-pilot’s art,
Without the sure guess of well-practised feet.
        COMUS. I know each lane, and every alley green,
******, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,
And every bosky bourn from side to side,
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;
And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged,
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark
From her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise,
I can c
Rob Sep 2011
So what of love,
Hearts burning fire,
Impaled on the horns of pain and desire,
A villain made true; honest man to a liar
In wretched quest for an abstract that’s higher

And if, perchance, they should vanquish their need,
Will he or she to true love concede
Or never quite sure of heart’s fine intention
Smother such dreams with stifling convention
Then, dastardly torn, twixt right and true
Sully their soul with transitory muse

In fear of the power that thunders within
And a promise once made, to never give in
For the Poet’s dilemma in this miraculous life
Is that when blessed with love, ‘tis oft coupled with strife.
RD © 2011
Raymond Crump Jun 2011
on a dark road
below a black hill
headlamped vision
gritty verge littered
with insect road ****
husk moth bodies
beetle shell   mud
defiled ox-eye daisy
dumb weight tramping
the treadmill night
day-shot with the memory
of those lapwing hundreds
wheeling in ascent to fall
on folded wing and again
gyre up to the brink
of abandonment
green silent fields away
as when in advent there
the hills rose up before me
and the thirst for their
awesome green

loth to return
to that vortex drawn
down ice-pocket ruts  
my city captive goes
With a body of curves, like no other, a true image of the magnificent, celestial mother.

And flowing as a spring with infinite roar, yet one small detail one could not ignore.

Her hair was a torrent, a weathering storm, scattering birds, attracting lightning; a whirlpool in form.

This visage, this appearance, so strange, so bizarre; face of spinning waters, as brilliant as stars.

Falling in love with her, into her flows, where everyone knows where the torrid passion goes.

In drowning descent, never returning from the throes, Land of Sleep, a beast awaits; the awful Kro-nos.
Charybdis is the whirlpool that descends to the underworld. She is the source of the word Caribbean. This is metered poetry. I believe Charybdis is in fact all the oceans around the Eurasian landmass, swirling as a gigantic whirlpool that in ancient times would bring any ship down whom ventured to stay at sea too long.
Janelise Aug 2013
Now, here, is a woman who conquers.

She seeps into you,

between the cracks of your magmatic soul

to etch her love into your subconscious.

She will consume you while you gaze upon her,

spinning and sparkling, reaching the sky before the sun begins his shine.

That is her gift.

Her lips form words you’ve needed to hear whispered softly,

only to you;

and her body curves into your touch because tonight

you are the wind on her shores.

She is seduction; crashing destruction;

and you will lose yourself

only to her.
Eleete j Muir Jan 2012
Aeolian dour fire meridians
Unfettering enlightenments will
Together Scylla with authority
Howling, Charybdis in oblivians wake
Shenting spindel meandering;
The schism termagating sirens
Repasts (diabolic manna)
Refracting ambrosial in the
Lap of Gods eye sophically conjecturing
Ephinany- times charioteering,
The nocturnal triunes discordance
Contemplating consequence thistling
Opothecaric sigels permeating lots
Obstruse lathed cerebral skies
Ruthfully roil whittling indelible
Epitaphs of serpentine repositories
Woefully dawning eternity castening
Harmoniously asunder truths
Deifying yen die.


ELEETE J MUIR.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

Floating brazier spews electric amber waves
as a setting sun radiates on the ceiling
a shadow of a ship coquettishly sways
while in the center charybdis begins swilling

another message, another missed call
another debt collector and his esurient talk
watch the ship begin to swirl, this scene so banal
amber feathered tawny eyed peacock

continues furtively to scroll her story and shoe shop
crowded room with a panel onstage
reality and fantasy evaporate and fall as a single raindrop
drown in the muck, don't know how to disengage

and to stay in the sway of fantasy.
Spent all day in a conference about chemicals. 10 hours. It was quite boring, but the setting was nice.
Bryce Jul 2018
Barking along the seething sea
Tethys sparkling
Sans Pellagrino
Bubbled up with volcanic
Albido
And it exposed the cragged shores
Of a incessantly compiling
Or
Completely snuffed
Mountain
Bored and drilled by time
Sharper than a dying dimond
Cooked and left to rest
A Dinar plate
To which an all you can eat
Buffet
Played out pleasently
From antiquity
To present
A gift to an aging child
To be which pure joy can behold.

Today it is home of the Croats
The ancient Frontier of a meiotic Rome
And over small-grain time
Made coats
Of arms and animal manes
To give a name
To the nameless

To give a place
To the missed

That old Tethys barks like a fish
Beyond the Odoacerean boot, Scylla and Charybdis
Where the whales float
And great souls
Stolen deep within
wishing to find god
Fumbling in the dark
Searching for Alexandria
The flame of life
Become great stories to be told
And nothing more.

Odysseus
Hug the shore
Follow the land of the mysterious Croats
Do not venture beyond the threshold
Or you will be consumed by time
And lost to her Circedean jealous pines
Do not anger the constant love of
Helios

No,
These Croats have never croaked
They know not of amphibiotes
And the sharpened clades of life
Made and tailored bespoke
Sowed
In the fractals
Of the quiet word of
Eloah.
M R White Apr 2021
What do you hear of me?
What rumors slip from others’ lips?
They speak of me, evil mistress, eyes that pull in, and a body that gets caught in your windpipe.
You are unable to swallow me. You chew on me and hastily spit me out. You choke on me.  
The wit I possess is too quick for your bruteness. You dismiss my thoughts.
I am just a woman, nothing less, and nothing more.
Bore to serve you and bear your seed.
What do you hear of me? What slips from others’ lips?
Am I a murderous harlot? A bitter witch with nothing better to do.
Do serpents sit atop my brow, shall I turn you to stone?
Am I Charybdis, shall I swallow you whole?
They are unable to chop me up into bit sized pieces. For some reason, they do not love me as a collective.
What do you hear regarding the treatment of me?
You only hear yourselves, deafening my point of view.
I hear I have scorned every one of you. Do you hear of who scorned me?
Have you ever questioned what may have made me this way?
What makes a mistress so vile?
The mistreatment of a loving deity can mangle many.
I was hanged on a hook, a piece of meat left to rot.
I was once pure and heavenly.
I will ask once more,
What have you heard of me?
What tales have slipped from others’ lips?
Have you stopped to think what created me to be so evil?
I am the evil mistress. I will chew you up and I will eagerly swallow you in all your whole.
I know my motive. What is yours?
ENGLISH PROJECT, STUDYING GILGAMESH
Jessie Meredith Jul 2013
As the undulating bodies part
the neon lights catch her face,
and her piercing gaze catches me.

A panorama of nothing but a blur.
But her- sharp.
Thirsty. Blazing.

Her hair is sleek and straight
but the way she throws back her head,
runs her fingers through the strands,
makes a tousled mess as entrancing and as
playfully wild as the club swirling around her.

Her lips are red. A challenging red.
The color of a delicate rose, but also
the color the harlot wears in old films.
The color of sin; of desire.

To unlock those lips
And tousle that hair
And lure out the voice….

To have the power of a man’s gaze now.
To be able to throw at her the force of
a chiseled jaw and stubble across my chin.

To know my role is to chase her
like a brave doe that turned
to look at me in the forest.
Who bounds away gracefully,
Knowing my sights are set
and the target is upon her.

How she would know my adrenaline
surged with every step she made
that took her farther from me.
All the power would lay in my
virile hands, to pull the trigger
on her when I may.

Ha! I laugh at my roots in the world that
imposes a craving for the rule of power.
Your gaze tells me we don’t belong there.



I move through the bodies toward you.
Toward freedom.
Lift me from my roots, darling.
We’ll run together.
Give up the vision of a pointed gun.
How’d they ever make me think
I wanted to be shot?

Oh, what a vision. What a creation!
My long locks twisting around yours,
how my lissome fingers get their
chance with you. And those
supple lips lend me the magnetic red hue.

How different the whole scene becomes
when the both of us are provocative
creatures, two nymphs swimming together
in the water of seduction.

Continue on, Odysseus.
Go conquer Scylla and Charybdis.
Master the seas of half the world.
The Sirens are singing to each other.
Andrea Molina Nov 2014
The first time i saw you, your stare lingered beneath
My mind went blank, it's as if i was recovered from the river Lethe
Eros and Ananke took the longest time on fashioning you
Apollo would befriend you because in my mind, you are the greatest view

To gain your love, i am willing to carry the world like Atlas
If you ask me, i will suffer the pits of Tatarus and come back to be your lass
I wouldn't mind staying with you in the island of Calypso
To be with you, i would face Charybdis and jump inside her tornado

Everytime you smile, it's as if the gates of Olympus open just for me
Your face will launch a thousand ships and i won't mind bringing my army
If i have no chance, my grief would reach the river Cocytus
And my heart would wander in the labyrinth of Daedalus

In the most confusing maze, you are my Ariadne string
You are the melody of the three muses when they sing
To get to your love how i wish i could be the goddess, Aphrodite
And maybe you can be Odysseus and i will be Penelope

With my kind of desire for you, Artemis and her hunters would never approve
If i am not for you, i would persuade Aphrodite and deny Cupid's reprove
Like Zeus and his lightning bolt, i can never leave your side
Poseidon's angry seas would compare to my feelings which will take long to subside

For your honor, i will fight like Hector of Troy
But like the giant, Typhon, someone will always destroy
Like Paris and Helen, we were doomed from the start
You are Cassandra and I, Apollo so you will never give me your heart

I am not Aphrodite, not Hestia, Helen and Hera
You can compare me to Circe, The Fates or even Medusa
Not as important as Hercules, Odysseus and Achilles
I might as well have a tea party with Achlys

No ship will be launched for my sake
In the garden of Hesperides, i am ignored even by a snake
In Olympus, you feast with the twelve goddesses and gods
Together with Hephaestus who was shunned, i share his odds.
Third Eye Candy Feb 2013
docking on the fringe of a dry spot
the rain died in...
i set sail in solemn siroccos, fraught
with endive and lemons...
no chop. flat listing in the leaning theme
impervious to words lost
my ship dips in clean drink
and dark thought.

away, my anchor prods starboard
planks of salt wood...
clangs in a grog of lurching halt
raw *****. mauve tossed - and shriek blind.
a pennant of mock cause.
a scant curl of smoke, seized
in unseasonable Hypnos.
a whimsical Charybdis -
a thing i choke on.
i scoff
cough a terrible pen
my inkwell, topped off
with black pond,
quill qualms
of love's
dross.

the serenity of my tempest
and the skipping stone it cracked,
now, white sharks, prowling the yonder
of the nearby,
in debt to a far gone, yawning
rings,-
concentric to the naked eye, you clothe not.
lest the raiment be
the Emperor's
new lot.

A Stitch of Odyssey In Epic Fail...
to get more gone, but less lost

a journey of a single step
begins because... and
just because
you stop

stopping.
For the Dragon hissed as the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss as the night subsides,
Python’s bliss as naiad’s cried,
And the wailing woe’s on a weathering tide,

Water-wall from Kētos scream, tsunami crash, swallow everything,

Rolling clouds and the pouring rain and the serpent dying writhing in pain,

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo kissed away the night time sky,
And the Python’s bliss as his naiad’s cry,

The Sun awoke at the wheel-house berth, armor gold, chest-plate of Earth,

And valiance choked, squeezed by Ladon’s girth,

As the serpent swelled with the stormy seas,

To collapse great hero upon his knees,

Apollo, Cadmus and Hercules.

Reborn by fire, Father-Lion’s roar, returned each night to even-up the score,

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss ward off night time skies,
Oh the wailing woe of ominous tides,

The scythe or club, boulder at night, rocks from heaven and the perilous fight,

Black-oil venom, heart of a beast, starry night’s runner split from the east,

Noxious breathe, flame-seared teeth, smell of death from a ****** feast,

Speared at the neck, pinning head to earth, then celebrated as a day of birth,

The serpent on his shoulder, or dangling from the tree,

Arising from the waters, from the depths beneath,

Cast out under a mountain, yes underneath, then wear his skin and sow his teeth!

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss as the fight subsides,

And Python’s bliss as his muses wailed, between the horns where Argo sailed,

Call it a man or Charybdis, Scylla, rock, a multi-headed beast,

Or just two horns with a middle disk and Apollo’s fire, Sun’s dawning kiss,

And the Dragon hissed as the Dragon dies,
And Apollo’s kiss create the day time skies,
And the Python’s bliss at his naiad’s cries,
And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died!
The story of Python in bardic tune. This is the source of the tale of St. George and the Dragon. It is the conflict between the night time sky and the Sun which is fought daily but the dragon is, "pinned," for three days when the sun rises on the same spot on the horizon during the Christmas holiday.
The whirlpool, it spins,
while the mountain, it twists.
As two serpents entwined,
are surrounding this.
Some had once claimed,
that it started as a bear,
others claimed it began at Canopus,
way over, down there.
Multi-headed or spring of rocks,
cavern, mountain or egg,
a great wheel forever-turning,
with a circus and a one leg!
Pushed along by two giants,
grinding up salt with its gear,
thus responsible for the seasons,
floods and movements and the year.
Two horns of the monster,
but not found on its head,
the Earthen plane a giant treasure,
where Drakon made his bed,
with two stars on his brow,
like the two in his eyes,
the porthole of the ship,
a flying horse in disguise.
Scylla, Charybdis,
Jason, Argos, Deucalion,
Ziusdra, Manu, Noah,
-and the two birds who carry on,
and the mountain from below,
which they all rested upon.
Ameleth or Kullervo,
…and brother Utamo’s great wrong,
…and the whirlpool from above that created this song!

And the evil found inside us, the Id and its kin, will nurture the abused child and continue the sin. The great black wheel of madness, as always, will spin, churning out more abusers to fill the Hell that we’re in. When, where or how did the wheel of blackness start? Corrupting the love and joy into the evil in man’s heart and turning family into tragedy and tearing them apart? Next time you feel weak and let the succubus inside, just remember all those in Hell and the reasons they died.
Astrology and ancient magic are a belief in the powers of celestial movements over the lives of men. This piece contains cosmogonical elements from Norse, German, Roman, Greek, Mesopotamian, Persian and Hindu.
I’m doing so well.
I offered you to Charybdis in exchange for my sanity.
Scylla too, at first, but she seemed too great an evil and I’m over it, I promise.
I’d rather watch you disappear into the maelstrom of my memory than
have to pick six pieces of your body from the crags in my head.

I’m doing so well.
I warned you of the Lotus Eaters
and took ten deep breaths when you peeked inside the bag of winds and blew our love astray.
I told a blind Polyphemus you were sorry for his loss.
He said Nobody is sorry, and I knew that he was right.

I’m doing so well.
I amble through Phoenicia on sidewalks that remember all the stories you told.
I bump into Nausikaa. She asks if I am Circe, and I tell her my name.
She drops her gaze to the pavement before admitting that you never mentioned me.

I’m doing so well.
I don’t spite the olives that dare to grow without our bodies entwined beneath them.
And I don’t mind when Antinous calls me ahead, begging me to finish our shroud - to leave the loom,
and us, behind.

I’m doing so well.
I buried all my anger in Kalypso’s wet sand
And as it followed you out to sea with the tide she came up and commiserated;
You left her once, too.
I hope you've read the Odyssey.
Hermes Varini Apr 2023
SICVT COMES DE MONTECRISTO VENIT VINDEX SIGNACVLO SVPREMVS IGNEO
TONITRV IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ DRACONIS STAT VLTIONIS PRIMA
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VBI DE TERTIA VIGILIA STAT ANTE SPECVLVM PERSONA IGNEVM MEA
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ERIT ASHVR ASSYRIORVM DEI LIVIDVS NINIVES IRA AC MEA REBELLIO
TONITRV IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS QVARTA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
O ΜEΓΑΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕYΣ EΠΙΦAΝΕΙΑ ΕIΣ EΡΕΒΟΣ

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HOSTIVM SIT HORA VBI SANGVINEAM TENEO IN VVLNERE LAMINAM
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O ΜEΓΑΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕYΣ EΠΙΦAΝΕΙΑ ΕIΣ EΡΕΒΟΣ

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TO ΓAΡ EMON ΕIΔΩΛΟΝ EΠEPXETAI KAI AΛHΘΩΣ O ΟΦΙΣ
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HÆC REGIS HORA VLTIONIS SIVE HISTORIÆ DECENARIVS I
ΔIA ΓAP TO EMON ΚΑΤOΠΤΡON KAI APXAIA ΦΛOΓI O ΔE ΤΙΜΩΡOΣ

ΤO ΕIΝΑΙ ΩΣΠEP H ΔYΝΑΜΙΣ


HENRICI VII SOLE VISENS RVBRO MONIMENTA VICTORIS
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HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XI VELTRVM


VBIQVMQVE BIFRONS NEPTVNI CINXIT NEREA IANVS
FVLMINE IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS DVODECIMA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
O ΜEΓΑΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕYΣ EΠΙΦAΝΕΙΑ ΕIΣ EΡΕΒΟΣ

REX XII VELTRVM


FLAMMA O ANAPXOΣ FVLMEN DONANS COCYTI RVBRA
HIEME IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ DRACONIS STAT VLTIONIS TERTIA DECIMA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XIII VELTRVM


NVNC TIBI ARES COMMENDO ME TEVCRVS EΠIΦANEIA AC IGNEM
TONITRV IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS QVARTA DECIMA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
ΚΑΤOΠΤΡΩ THΣ NYKTOΣ O ANAΞ AYTOΣ

REX XIV VELTRVM


CVM STATVO VLTIONI ARAM AC VASTO TYRII COLVMNAS
FVLMINE IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ DRACONIS STAT VLTIONIS QVINTA DECIMA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XV VELTRVM


VALE INIVRIA IAM TEMPESTATE NOCTIS OBDVRAT IMAGO
HIEME IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS SEXTA DECIMA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
O ΜEΓΑΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕYΣ EΠΙΦAΝΕΙΑ ΕIΣ EΡΕΒΟΣ

REX XVI VELTRVM


DOLEBIS CVM SPATHAM DESTRINGAM IGNAVE ANIMO INIMICE
TONITRV IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ DRACONIS STAT VLTIONIS SEPTIMA DECIMA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XVII VELTRVM


SOLI INVICTO SIVE IN THRACOS AVDACES SAGITTIFEROSVE SCYTHAS
FVLMINE IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS DVODEVIGESIMA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
ΚΑΤOΠΤΡΩ THΣ NYKTOΣ O ANAΞ AYTOΣ

REX XVIII VELTRVM


ÆSTVOSI INCENDIVM REDDE MIHI VICTORIAM TEMPLI SIGILLO
HIEME IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ DRACONIS STAT VLTIONIS VNDEVIGESIMA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XIX VELTRVM


VBI MEAM ALABASTRI IN RVPE VLTIONEM INSCVLPSI SOLISQVE ANNO MXCVII
TONITRV IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS VIGESIMA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
O ΜEΓΑΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕYΣ EΠΙΦAΝΕΙΑ ΕIΣ EΡΕΒΟΣ

REX ** VELTRVM


AVRÆ DE VELTRVM IMAGINE REVOLVVNT IGITVR IGNE LÆTI SPIRÆ
ANTIQVÆ AD VESPERVM SONO CAMPANÆ APOCALYPSEOS
HOC DOMITORIS DIE VINDICTÆ SIVE HISTORIÆ DECENARIVS II

VELTRVM ILLE NOMINE QVI CHALYBEIO DIXIT MIHI IN SPECVLO

EGO SVM TVVM HVIVS EIΔΩΛON NOCTIS A ET Ω DVM

ΔIA ΓAP TO EMON ΚΑΤOΠΤΡON KAI APXAIA ΦΛOΓI O ΤΙΜΩΡOΣ

O ΔE OVERMAN

  
VBI FVLGIDAM DEFIXI SICAM AC MIDÆ LIBERAVI FVLGOREM AVRO
FVLMINE IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ VLTIONIS STAT DRACONIS VIGESIMA PRIMA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XXI VELTRVM


ΚΑΤOΠΤΡΩ H ΤΡΙAΣ THΣ DYNAMEOΣ AC DE HÖÐR EXPVGNATOR SECVRI
HIEME IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS VIGESIMA SECVNDA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
ΚΑΤOΠΤΡΩ THΣ NYKTOΣ O ANAΞ AYTOΣ

REX XXII VELTRVM


VNIVERSALIS INFAMIÆ FVLMINE IN TERRA AC PROPHETIA VLTOR
TONITRV IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ VLTIONIS STAT DRACONIS VIGESIMA TERTIA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XXIII VELTRVM


TITATVM IN SPECVLO CANO QVI MYSTICIS STYGOS VINCET VNDIS
FVLMINE IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS VIGESIMA QVARTA
VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO SIT HICINE NOMINE MAGNÆ
O ΜEΓΑΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕYΣ EΠΙΦAΝΕΙΑ ΕIΣ EΡΕΒΟΣ

REX XXIV VELTRVM


CÆSAR QVEM FERREO PHRYGIÆ VINDICEM DIXI CALAMO
HIEME IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ VLTIONIS STAT DRACONIS VIGESIMA QVINTA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XXV VELTRVM


VENIT NERONIS VMBRA DIVI IGNEA MIHI AC LYCAON REGNANS
TONITRV IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS VIGESIMA SEXTA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
ΚΑΤOΠΤΡΩ THΣ NYKTOΣ O ANAΞ AYTOΣ

REX XXVI VELTRVM


VBI THORAX SICVT SPECVLVM CÆCANS REFLEXIT MEVS SPLENDOREM IRÆ
FVLMINE IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ VLTIONIS STAT DRACONIS VIGESIMA SEPTIMA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XXVII VELTRVM


SPONTE SVA SE MACTAT DE TYR MALLEO IPSE CERBERI INGNISQVE SACERDOS
HIEME IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS VIGESIMA OCTAVA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
O ΜEΓΑΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕYΣ EΠΙΦAΝΕΙΑ ΕIΣ EΡΕΒΟΣ

REX XXVIII VELTRVM


ΦΛΟΓΙ THΣ ΤΙΜΩΡIΑΣ MEO DE CHALYBE HOC SPECVLO AC NOCTIS
TONITRV IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ VLTIONIS STAT DRACONIS VNDETRICESIMA
SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC SPATHA
HOC ILLE EX SPECVLO NOCTIS MEO

REX XXIX VELTRVM


ÆGIR QVI NOSTRI INFAMIAM SVBIGET SÆCLI AC OMNIA GERMANICVS
FVLMINE IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ STAT VINDICTÆ DRACONIS
TRICESIMA
SIVE VLTIONIS DE VNIVERSO MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE
ΚΑΤOΠΤΡΩ THΣ NYKTOΣ O ANAΞ AYTOΣ

REX *** VELTRVM


AVRÆ ΕIΔΩ DE VELTRVM REVOLVVNT IGITVR IGNE LÆTI SPIRÆ
PRISTINÆ HΧΩ CAMPANÆ THΣ ΑΠΟΚΑΛΥΨΗΣ AC CLAMORE AQVILÆ
HÆC REGIS HORA VLTIONIS SIVE HISTORIÆ DECENARIVS III
ΔIA ΓAP TO EMON ΚΑΤOΠΤΡON KAI APXAIA ΦΛOΓI O ΤΙΜΩΡOΣ

TO ΓIΓΝΕΣΘΑΙ ΩΣΠEP H EΠIΔΟΣΙΣ ΔYΝΑΜΙ


ERIT NJÖRÐR QVADORVM IMAGINE MEA VIS CHALYBIS VNA ET HEPHÆSTI IRA
ΩΣ ΑYΤΩΣ EΠΙΣΤΡΟΦH TO ΚYΜΑ THΣ EΜΠΡΗΣΕΩΣ EK TOY EMOY ΕIΣΟΠΤΡΟY
OVERMAN VLTOR SIVE VXD KOΣMΩ POTENTIÆ IN RECVRSV
CVSTOS QVI OYΣIΩΣΘAI LABORE DICITVR ESSE SOLIS

VELTRVM.
A composition of mine in Classical Latin and ancient Greek. The title VELTRVM is a latinization (neuter) of Dante's Veltro, the Greyhound, in Canto I of the Inferno, whose prophecy is herein superhumanly exceeded into One Universal Avenger, the Restorer of the ΛOΓΟΣ as Order, appearing through thirty historical phases, which form the relevant pentastic stanzas. At each phase He is manifested as a king (REX I, REX II, REX III, etc.) and at each phase recurs more powerful (KOΣMΩ POTENTIÆ IN RECVRSV) taking the form of a fiery coil of a dragon (IGNEA H ΣΠΕIΡΑ), thus ruling over the future, as well as the past, through an ultimate spiral-like historical-cosmic purification at length merging into One Force with the image of the narrator (IMAGINE MEA VIS CHALYBIS VNA). Allegorically, the thirty coils of the Great Vengeance as well as Rebellion (cosmically intended as touching, also, whatsoever intrinsic human limit) revolve (REVOLVVNT) three times at the sound of an Apocalyptic Bell (HΧΩ CAMPANÆ THΣ ΑΠΟΚΑΛΥΨΗΣ), upon the appearance of REX (king) X, ** and ***, as his own human, that is, overhuman image reverberates over these coils, which are golden (AVRÆ EIΔΩΛΩ DE VELTRVM SPIRÆ). This indicates a threefold sequence of three historical decenaries (DECENARIVS I, II, III):

AVRÆ EIΔΩΛΩ DE VELTRVM IGNE LÆTI REVOLVVNT IGITVR SPIRÆ
PRISTINÆ HΧΩ CAMPANÆ THΣ ΑΠΟΚΑΛΥΨΗΣ AC DOMITORIS
HÆC REGIS HORA VLTIONIS SIVE HISTORIÆ DECENARIVS I
ΔIA ΓAP TO EMON ΚΑΤOΠΤΡON KAI APXAIA ΦΛOΓI O ΔE ΤΙΜΩΡOΣ

ΤO ΕIΝΑΙ ΩΣΠEP H ΔYΝΑΜΙΣ


AVRÆ DE VELTRVM IMAGINE REVOLVVNT IGITVR IGNE LÆTI SPIRÆ
ANTIQVÆ AD VESPERVM SONO CAMPANÆ APOCALYPSEOS
HOC DOMITORIS DIE VINDICTÆ SIVE HISTORIÆ DECENARIVS II

VELTRVM ILLE NOMINE QVI CHALYBEIO DIXIT MIHI IN SPECVLO

EGO SVM TVVM HVIVS EIΔΩΛON NOCTIS A ET Ω DVM

ΔIA ΓAP TO EMON ΚΑΤOΠΤΡON KAI APXAIA ΦΛOΓI O ΤΙΜΩΡOΣ

O ΔE OVERMAN


AVRÆ ΕIΔΩ DE VELTRVM REVOLVVNT IGITVR IGNE LÆTI SPIRÆ
PRISTINÆ HΧΩ CAMPANÆ THΣ ΑΠΟΚΑΛΥΨΗΣ AC CLAMORE AQVILÆ
HÆC REGIS HORA VLTIONIS SIVE HISTORIÆ DECENARIVS III
ΔIA ΓAP TO EMON ΚΑΤOΠΤΡON KAI APXAIA ΦΛOΓI O ΤΙΜΩΡOΣ

TO ΓIΓΝΕΣΘΑΙ ΩΣΠEP H EΠIΔΟΣΙΣ ΔYΝΑΜΙ


The core elements in my notion of Triad of Power, Being as Power (ΤO ΕIΝΑΙ ΩΣ H ΔYΝΑΜΙΣ), the Overman (O ΔE OVERMAN) and Becoming as Increase in Power (TO ΓΊΓΝΕΣΘΑΙ ΩΣ ΔYΝΑΜΙ H EΠIΔΟΣΙΣ) accordingly appear within a tripartite historical sequence.

ΔIA ΓAP TO EMON ΚΑΤOΠΤΡON KAI APXAIA ΦΛOΓI O ΤΙΜΩΡOΣ

Through my Mirror and the Ancient Blaze (with reference to Dante, Inferno, Canto XXVI, 85 ff.), thus the Avenger.  

As in Dante, Henry VII, Holy Roman Emperor († 1313) is mentioned (HENRICI VII SOLE VISENS RVBRO MONIMENTA VICTORIS). An influence from the Theology of History and the rhythmical REVOLVERE ÆTATES (the unfolding of the sequences of historical eras) in the Liber Figurarum of Joachim of Fiore († 1202), as well as from Nostradamus’ († 1566) Centuries may thus be noticed. The final anagram VXD reads VINDEX XYSTO DÆMON, or "the Avenger Demon (in the Greek sense of "ΔΑIΜΩΝ") through the Xystus (an ancient portico with columns, instrumental ablative)". It also translates, in Roman numerals, as "Five, Ten, Five Hundred", having thus a precise prophetic-historical meaning, akin to the one in Dante's Purgatorio, XXXIII, 43. As in John Scotus Eriugena’s († 877) Carmina, the text is capitalized. References to Classical and Norse mythology are included.


SIVE VINDICTÆ KOΣMΩ MAGNÆ AC TEMPORE

Or through the Universe (KOΣMΩ, instrumental dative) of the Great Revenge (VINDICTÆ... MAGNÆ), and the Time (AC TEMPORE, a historical time, as thus one with the Force of the Cosmos).

VBI DE TERTIA VIGILIA STAT ANTE SPECVLVM PERSONA IGNEVM MEA

Where, at Midnight (DE TERTIA VIGILIA), my Person before the Fiery Mirror stands.

FODIT DOMINATOR ΞΙΦIΔΙΩ SENNACHERIB DVELLO LEONEM REGNO IGITVR DIGNVS AC DELVBRO

Sennacherib the Ruler (king of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, † 681 B.C.), in single combat (DVELLO) the Lion he pierces with the Dagger (ΞΙΦIΔΙΩ), thus of his Kingdom and of the Shrine (proving himself) worthy (REGNO IGITVR DIGNVS AC DELVBRO). (This scene refers to real Assyrian customs as portrayed in bas-reliefs.)

ILLE SECVTOR QVI ARGENTEA LVNA APPAREAT SICVT CHALYBEIO SCVTO AC FLAMMIS

He, the Secutor (a type of Roman gladiator, with his face masked), who appears through the Silvery Moon as the Shield of Steel, and the Flames.

VINDICIS SVNT CHARYBDIS IGNEA PRODITVRA NOCTIS VEXILLA

The Fiery Banners of the Night of Charybdis the Avenger (a sea monster in Greek mythology) are about to issue forth.

FLAMMA O ANAPXOΣ FVLMEM DONANS COCYTI RVBRA

The Sovereign (O ANAPXOΣ, also "ruler") giving the Thunderbolt, through the Red Flame of Cocytus (frozen infernal lake, now turned into fire, to be found in Circle IX of the Inferno).

CVM STATVO VLTIONI ARAM AC VASTO TYRII COLVMNAS

When I ***** a Shrine to Vengeance (god), and devastate the Columns at Tyrus.

SOLI INVICTO SIVE IN THRACOS AVDACES SAGITTIFEROSVE SCYTHAS

To Sol Invictus (the Unconquered Sun, a solar deity of the late Roman Empire), both among the Bold Thracians and the Arrow-bearing Scythians.

VBI THORAX SICVT SPECVLVM CÆCANS REFLEXIT MEVS SPLENDOREM IRÆ

Where my Cuirass, like a Mirror, reflected the blinding Glare of the Rage.

VBI MEAM ALABASTRI IN RVPE VLTIONEM INSCVLPSI SOLISQVE ANNO MXCVII

Where I have graven my Vengeance (MEAM… VLTIONEM INSCVLPSI), and that of the Sun (SOLISQVE), within the Rocky Cliff of Alabaster (ALBASTRI IN RVPE), in the year 1097 (ANNO MXCVII).

VENIT NERONIS VMBRA DIVI IGNEA MIHI AC LYCAON REGNANS

Came to me, the Fiery Shadow of the Godlike Nero, and the ruling Lycaon (legendary king of Arcadia).

NVNC TIBI ARES COMMENDO ME TEVCRVS EΠIΦANEIA AC IGNEM

Now I entrust myself to thee, Ares (Greek god of war, the Roman Mars, vocative), I the Trojan, (TEVCRVS) through the Mirror, (EΠIΦANEIA, also 'appearance') and the Fire (AC IGNEM).

ΩΣ ΑYΤΩΣ EΠΙΣΤΡΟΦH TO ΚYΜΑ THΣ EΜΠΡΗΣΕΩΣ EK TOY EMOY ΕIΣΟΠΤΡΟY

Not otherwise than thus, through the Return, the Wave of the Blaze, from out my Mirror.


Molti son li animali a cui s'ammoglia,
e più saranno ancora, infin che 'l veltro
verrà, che la farà morir con doglia.

Many are the animals with whom she (the she-wolf) mates, and
there shall be more still, until the greyhound shall
come, who shall make her die in pain.

Dante, Inferno, Canto I, 100-102.


Emperor Probus († A.D. 282, assassinated) was particularly devoted to the cult of the Sol Invictus, as herein evoked.

FVLMINE TO ΔE ΠΡΟΦΗΤΙΚOΝ ΠNEYMA AC VOX

Through the Lightning, the Prophetic Spirit and the Voice.
Annie Nov 2011
He found her hiding
In the cities cowers
And thought to befriend her
By offering a carrot

She wouldn’t take it
But she couldn’t leave it
Her eyes
Droopy half moons
Darting between him
And his offering
     The Scylla
     And the Charybdis

Knowing that if
She didn't starve to death
This fox would eat her.

But the fox was a Magnus
He knew her pain
     A Pea - hard as tuppence ha'penny
     Under twenty mattresses

And appealed to her sensitivity.
He too had been alone
- His rhombic truths
And scared
- A slant on the straight and narrow
And when it was time to leave
He asked her to dine with him
In his burrow.

But still she hesitated
So he scuttled away
Leaving her to follow
And apologize
For having vexed him so.
     If he had wanted to **** her
     He would have done so already

And she was very hungry.

So they talked of books
     Peter Rabbit
     And the Velveteen Rabbit

As he sharpened his knives
To dice potatoes
And chop carrots.
They were going to have
A German dish
-Hasenpfeffer.

-What does that mean
She asked
Sniffing the broth.
- Rabbit stew
He whispered.
And then he bit her
Hard
And held her
Until she stopped struggling.
*He really did love rabbit.
aj Dec 2015
welcome to a place you used to call home and now is full of strangers

the smell of coffee, forgotten faith, and lost memories cling to the bronze walls - broken friendships (at least partially your fault) taste like bitter chocolate and your could-have-beens echo off the high ceilings

upside down city lights drown in the reflection of leftover rainwater - your tires slash through them and you think quietly about the skin on your forearms

your favorite album isn’t enough to drown the pit of guilt in your stomach and the raindrops don’t wash away your anxiety no matter how hard you wish that they will

what used to be a mirror is now broken, and the shards jab at you, not hard enough to break your skin, but enough to know that something is very wrong

that candle you forgot to blow out last night makes your room smell like every other thing that you left unattended until they grew to be too big for you to handle anymore

you are odysseus, and the world is both scylla and charybdis. you can only hope you’ll make it home.
Kay Ireland Oct 2018
In place of calm, read stirring ocean,
Scylla and Charybdis,
between a rock and a hard place.

In place of comfort, read your body,
transient, missing, on a plane somewhere
in a car somewhere on a boat somewhere
without your phone somewhere
somewhere somewhere somewhere
that is not my apartment or my arms
but somewhere where you smile.
Somewhere where your eyes
finally focus.
In place of sleep, read blood between the floorboards
and moving boxes scattered,
read burst capillaries and a savings jar
full of Washingtons and no idea
what I’m saving for.
In place of stasis, read
one fast move or I’m gone.
after Charles Simic
Faith Maxine Jan 2013
Insatiable need to be near
Pulled close
Orbiting sphere
Laughter
Ringing me like cattle
Slight touch
Accidentally enveloped
Friendship
Companionship
Ship lost at sea
The waves in your ocean
Putting Charybdis to shame
If I knew why
I'd turn myself away
Magnetic pulling
Of the opposite ***
Never saw it coming
Never would have guessed
One long talk leading
One long reminisce
Of the last time your
Touch felt me
Slight brush
Skipping rhythmic beats
Unknowingly drawing close
With every part of the lips
But we're just friends at best
We would never cross the line
Unless…
Mutual kiss
Lawrence Hall Nov 2016
An Abandoned School

Young dreams, now scattered fragments on the floor:
A little handle into a corner flung
The disc of sizes never again to fit
A number two pencil into place for a trim
Nor will the made-in-Chicago hopper
Ever again save for the classroom prankster
Sweet-smelling slitherings of cedar shavings
To fling about while Teacher’s at the board.

A new Ticonderoga ****** into
The spinning Scylla and Charybdis blades
Was tested by steel, the dross savaged away,
By turning the handle and grinding away,
And from this grim ordeal emerged The Point,
The perfect point, the adventurous lead…
It’s not really lead, stupid, it’s graphite;
That’s what Teacher said.  Don’t you know anything?

Girls are stupid.  They play with dolls and stuff.
I’ve got a real cap pistol.  I’ll draw it.
You want to see? Look! No, wait, that’s not right;
It’s better this way…Ma’am?  Uh…integers?
Arithmetic is stupid.  Science is fun.
I’ve got most of the Audubon bird stamps
And I liked it when we cut up the frogs
Old people are so mean. I’ll never be old.

A leaking pipe drips the minutes away
Outside a broken window summer sings
Its songs of freedom as it always has
The desks are gone, the electricity is off
The air smells of education and decay
The classroom now is littered with the past:
A broken crayon, a construction-paper heart,
A silence longing for children’s voices.
Third Eye Candy Jun 2013
On your laurels rest
The waning harpies of Oblivion
The rude flock
Preening Sorrow from ash.
And Bone Lips click
Their vicious riddles
Into the Deaf Charybdis
Of your God.

Born Again
Out of the Wasteland
Your every phantom
Marks time
And only the fickle joy of surrender
Defeats the tedium of breathing...

Where you Are....(Strange feasts Unfurl)

Upon dead tongues
that speak of It
Never as kind.

You remember Honey
As if in a dream.

All desolation, Glory-
Yawning from
Birth.
SøułSurvivør Jul 2016
All are cast upon life's Seas
All have cares and doubt
We can freeze at 0°
Or we can Scream & Shout

The Tempest tears at our proud sails
The waves crash on our decks
The winds wail, our strength can fail
And we can end up wrecks

Caught between two destinies
The Scylla and Charybdis
The devil and the deep blue sea
The malstrom comes to haunt us

But... avast there, mate! It's not your fate!
There asleep upon your lee
Is God so great, He's never late!
And he can calm the sea!

Have you heard? He has awoken!
He's not in the grave!
Tho we are broken, He has spoken!
He's Ruler of the waves!

So do not fear the hurricanes
For as sure as I was born
Tempests wane, in sad refrain
Before the

Maker of the Storm


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/14/2016
Jesus Calms the Storm
Mark 4:35-41
mrmonst3r Dec 2014
The walls are dripping black
My inner monologue
A flat, dull rasp.
My heart
Like the flicker of a dying candle
Happy to fade.
There is nothing left
                nothing to lose
                               to keep me safe.
You think I'm here
Playing those endless ******* games
Keeping score.
No
I've written my goodbye
Carved in flesh.
Idling,
Between Scylla and Charybdis
Just for kicks.
Courting the waves
In final damnation
Yours sincerely.
My empty gaze
This twitching wound
Your cruel tongue.
This is the way the world ends
Tommy Johnson Jan 2015
Last thing I remember, was that drastic times called for drastic measures
She was out of town
He was out of order
The amalgamation of ***** little secrets and the insecurities I picked at
Which put me between Scylla and Charybdis
Urging me to make Hobson's choice
Tie up loose ends
Went to the bazaar
To pick up an ambigram of the word "Psalms"
And mirror image of the word "Proverbs"
Buyer beware
We speak in  strange slanguage here
So get on with it
Share sugar
Sniff out your own kind
Only time can tell
Tell time to hold up
Bank on tomorrow
On Eastern/ Pacific/ Mountain time
Local and global
Try to save face
Not aimed at any anyone specific
If you're wearing the shoe, you must fit it
Overbearing
I'm painted as a neer do well
  
     -Tommy Johnson
Chris Saitta Jun 2020
The soul has as its sextant the ribs opened wide,
The heart its compass in fluid circuitous diatribe,
When each to zone the geometry of Greek sky  
With its powdery fabulism of centaurs and jars
From Aesop’s wine of words, the untimeliness
Of sundials to Charybdis’s bloom of giant watery eyes.

To know oceans by the dry riverbed of my pulse,
To scale only as high as the sparrow’s tomb of my heart.
Charybdis is one of two sea monsters (Scylla being the other) in Greek mythology.  Aesop relayed this myth as well.
Shannon Feb 2020
devour the garden and the
sunshine and the rain, too,
with open-armed and tight-
jawed glory. my mirror is
cracked more each time i
look into it; my mirror is
slithering, silver liquid pouring
down my throat, thorny bird
of paradise curled across my
shoulders. your shoes don’t
fit me right. your scene isn’t
mine and i don’t have a scene
anymore and sometimes i regret
it. is the self-assured smugness
worth its weight in gold? am i
better now that i’ve stripped
myself of bracelets and ink and
leather? or i have i sacrificed the
essential for the sake of your
comfort, for you and your dignity,
for the neighbors and their
mouths? my mouth is inverted and
my smile is crooked and my teeth
aren’t quite together, but i’m tired
of straightening myself out for you.
Zach Davis Dec 2012
A wisp of smoke in the wind,
With the first grasp it is gone;
Lost as a figment to the imagination’s whim
The scriptures upon my tongue
Held within for fear
Locked up as if we both were unaware-
As if there were no Charybdis,
******* and yearning at the ocean,
For one small glimmering ship upon the horizon-
And, of course,
This horizon I doubt I will ever reach.
A symbol upon the light,
Who am I to touch the stars
So far, so bright,
That I may become one among them
And frolic in the shimmering pools of the sky
As if I were a god among men
As if I could achieve a dream-
Yet in spite of the chaotic
Swirling whirpool below me
I hold on,
As if that wisp of smoke would rise-
As if that ship on the horizon
Would hear my plea
And rescue me.
we are stuck
between Scylla
                           and
        Charybdis
we know the path we must take
but
I fear
we will ignore
the warnings

we are still off course

— The End —