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Hannah Larson Oct 2013
For one month Odysseus toiled and
Built up the house that stood so great before,
Clearing away the cobwebs that had been.
Twenty years since truly being a home,
Twenty years since being filled with laughter
That was more than lust of insolent men.
And so Odysseus sent for his son
That they may set out on an angling jaunt.
Whilst they were making their way in the deep,
A strange singing filled the air and they were
Surrounded by fog as thick as the stew
Telemachus’ mother often prepared.
Out of the mist strode a Nereid with skin
The color of the purest of milk creams.
Silky hair fell in lush amber waves down
Her flawlessly curved back, flowing smoothly
Such as the Nile river in the wind.
And she said unto them, “Friends, do not be
Frightened, for I shall bear you no harm. You
Who have come from years of fear and anguish,
I now call to bear a terrible task.
There is a great daemon in these waters,
An archfiend who calls herself Lamia.
She eats any children who dare descend in
Waters where she lurks hidden in shadow.
She snatches at the ankles of the young
Like a solicitous epistle grasps
At the heartstrings of those who read it. She
Is a sickness that has no remedy,
A war with no end. She is the dark thought
One cannot be rid of. She is pure death.
Please, great Odysseus, vanquish this thing
Haunting every step of the innocent.
I give to you this costume that one may
Receive the breath of life underwater. ”

Upon agreeing to the colossal
Undertaking, Odysseus and his
Progeny initiated their search
Across the marine for the beast behind
The mask of trepidation. However,
‘Twas not long until Lamia herself
Appeared to them and made to devour
Telemachus himself, for he was a
Young man, young enough to vex her temper.
This thing that had risen out of the depths,
She had a beautiful face matched closely
Only by Venus herself. But beneath
The splendor is that of an animal
With the scaled, winding tail of an immense
Serpent and talons ending her long hands.
She apprehended the son of our great
Hero in a clawed fist and began to
Raise him to her massive gaping gullet.
Before the harm was done, Odysseus
Seized a sarsen from a near formation
And heaved it at Lamia’s beautiful
Head. The boulder succeeded in breaking
All of her shining teeth, preventing her
From consuming Telemachus. She
Fulminated for a moment, and then
Hastily withdrew to her cavernous
Space.
           Odysseus followed, retrieving
A bronze sword from a shipwreck he passed in
His haste. Brandishing his weapon fiercely,
He charged. Managing to scarcely avoid
Lamia’s lashing tail and slashing claws,
He climbed to the base of her neck and plunged
The sword into the soft flesh that was there.
He tore the blade back and forth, severing
The pronounced head from her ghastly body.

After slaughtering the daemon, the two
Swam for shore, Telemachus breathing by
Way of keeping hold of his father’s suit.
Once at the surface of the sea, they were
Met once again by Amatheia,
The Nereid who’d charged them with the duty,
Who rewarded Odysseus with a
Magic bag that could hold any item,
Size or shape, and never got heavy, no
Matter its load. When given, it held 100,000
Drachma, a great deal of money for them.

After thanking her freely and being
Thanked in return, the men were magicked back
To their home on Ithaca, where remained
Penelope, wife to Odysseus.
They lived quite happily off the money
Gifted graciously to them, and were graced
By the great Gods forevermore for the
Grim duties performed by Odysseus.
For the past two hours
this Mac has hypnotised
my gaze to its white screen
and every website has
sentries at the door -
Username ? Password ?
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When did we become so
chary one of another ?  Were
folks so paranoid in the pre-
digital age when existence
had not been magicked into
noughts and ones in Silicon
Valley?  It did not seem so.

(c) C J Heyworth July 2014
The surreal sci-fi novels written by Douglas Adams had a hugely comic character called Marvin The Paranoid Android.
I suspect that the advent of modern technologies and their endless capability to snoop has turned all of us into a generation of Marvins.
Jason Apr 2021

You enchanted the moon, didn't you?

Or bribed her?  Maybe you promised her a star or two?

She hunts me with Orion's bow, pacing behind shadowed cloud,

My celestial stalker ridin' low, warily wrapped in misty shroud.

She whispers stark and yet, soft as a breeze on an April afternoon,

Press on now, my pet.  You've done so well, we'll sleep again soon,

But we've a fortnight to go if we're to come full circle by month's end.

So many dreams still to sow... To reap those lupine howls once again.

She waxes and I wane, she mystifies with madness then soothes me sane.

Serenity to insanity, delirious depravity to moon-magicked majesty,

A cosmic clockwork cycle muddling my mind with lunar gravity.

She pushes me to righteous malice and pulls me to solstice solace,

She masters tides in her caprice, what hope has a malcontent apprentice?

© 04/04/21 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved

There's a bit of the moon in everything I say and do,
I shouldn't be surprised she reminds me of you.

Just an interesting note: I was inspired to write this last night as I was watching the moon from the window at my desk.  Today, I was wondering if the moon was actually anywhere near Orion...

Turns out Orion is just to the east, but the moon was in the house of Libra when I wrote this, which is friggin cool.  :p
Owen Phillips Mar 2013
When you're gone I wonder when you'll start hating me
When you're with me I'm scared I'm not good enough
When I touch you I expect you to tell me to stop
When you kiss me I think you don't
Know what you're doing
When you sigh I know
You're tired of me

My memories of you are of things that surround you
You smell like your car
And the shampoo I watched you apply
In your bathroom sink from your bedroom floor
You say it's not right but the sweat from your armpits
Delights me as much as the scents you apply

You're smooth and unblemished like china
I scraped that perfection away
With vine fingers I scratched you
I am a scar on your perfect identity

You take what you want and give up what you must
You're generous but know when to play close to the chest
You're patient, you can get what you need

If I think too hard I'll do what I always do
Lose you by gripping too tightly
I want to constrict you when you lay beside me
The closer you wriggle,
The further I slip
Into jealous obsession
And lustful possession

We're wasting each other's time,
But we had time to spare
We're better than nothing, it's true
I love you in spite of my doubts but I can't help
Expecting you to leave any minute

We don't even see eye to eye on the things which
Concern me the most,
But I can't say it matters
We've opened the doors and accepted each other
There's no reason for us to turn back

Soon I'll have done what I always do
Driven you away or bored you
"It can't be neverending,"
My fearful mind tells me,
"You'll **** it all up before long"
And my self righteous sense says
You're not worth the effort
You're hopeless and fit to discard
My jealousy wants you to give up your lovers
Surrender your body to me
My loneliness hopes you won't leave and it cries
When you go to your own bed at night
My evil will wants you to drink yourself silly
And bend to my twisted demands
My shy side just hides in the bathroom and dreams
Of your smile, the blue of your eyes
My paranoid whimsy draws lines from your picture
To names dates and far out ideas
I'm sure you could be only my imagination
For you look like my fantasy girls

I magicked you out of the footnotes
And into the body of text
And now you are key to the story
And I don't know what happens next

I see you appear in distant past dreams
I fill in my memories with you
We walked the same earth for two decades
Together we walk from now on
My intuition left me so long ago
And you say it never existed
I hope my heart can be reopened
But I don't really mind if I'm dead when I die

To perish beside you would simply life
To be flattened together as one
We'd wake when our spirits were ready to dance
And we'd create EVERYTHING
To ABC
Yolanda Smith Oct 2013
A sonnet of moonbeam,
a moonie for a son.
Hey Salkind and Salt, too!

Once young peeple gathered
we magicked the world
to shape a future out of the Cold

We demand no more curtains
No poppets, no straw men, no g-men
Mother nature's calling

She cries out daily
for her children
the moon, her star -the Sun

Earth magic and wishes alone
can no longer fill the breach
of promises too long forgotten

Let her rip,
like a lioness
Roaring at the injustice of her first ****
First draft from Peeps Lounge 1994/2014

Do you hear the lioness crying, lan?
Someone broke my heart.
Another took it and mended it.
The rest came and went.
One stayed but a way,
three on the tree returned,
they floundered, faltered,
fostered a founder,
Sun City subsidy turned her out.
Strutting strumpetry of virtual reality
for cost plus.

YJS 2004.  All Rights Reserved.
Faith Barron Nov 2013
Flutter and Float
Flip and dive
Leaves a boat
The King arrived

Folded wings
Heads bowed low
The larks sing
Their King walks straight and slow

And as he passes
His folk all breathe
For his power surpasses
As evil did seethe

And he rose up
His arms above his head
Magicked nectar in his cup
The King’s grace and power did spread

And so the evil did recede
Lifted the voices did sing
All evil fled with haste and speed
Now all was well in land of the Faery King

Flutter and Float
Flip and dive
Leaves a boat
The King arrived
Alyanne Cooper Jan 2016
The wall bears a breach
In its otherwise impeccable face.
A breach of small measures,
But a breach nonetheless.
The breach became a door
That welcomed the outside world
To entry and discovery
Of all the treasures
Hidden away behind
The sky-high walls.

But the door became worn
With misuse and abuse,
And the breach that had been welcomed
Became a source of ire and disgust.
Now every entrant eyed with mistrust;
How can the inhabitant show care for those
Who show her city no care of their own?  

The golden rule her standard,
Yet her soul grows tired of mistreatment.
No one else lives by that standard,
Rather choosing to live selfishly
According what's best for their self.
Should she not take instruction
From all who surround her
And do the very same:
Put her city's needs above every other being.

A steeled jaw is the only sign of her choice.
That and:

The walls take on their own life,
Magicked to always protect.
They slowly work to remove the door
And fill the breach;
A perfect impenetrable stone face once more.
Alyanne Cooper Aug 2015
Red hued water swirls round the drain.
Bloodied hands wash themselves of sin.
Vacant eyes glance briefly in the mirror.
As the once temporary mask grows permanent.

The charade will continue.
The show must go on.
The bright and magicked aural lies persist.
For this is the reality of life.

Every human is an actor.
Every life has its stage.
And there is none willing to consider
Taking a peek behind another's curtain.

Too many acts to follow.
Too many roles to play.
We're all grifters and cheats
Trying to make a way in our worlds

And get everyone else to believe
We belong here as much as the next.

For the broken don't belong.
The wounded and bloodied don't belong.
The scarred and marred don't belong.
Not in a world that prizes symmetry
And wholeness and uniformity.

What is uniform about the bags
That darken our eyes?
What is whole about the scars
That shade our arms?
What is symmetrical about the sad smirks
That crook our cracked lips?

What is prized about our brokenness?

So we play our roles
And we play them well
So no one knows
Our brokenness.

But we do.
For our reality is in the mirror.

The now shattered mirror
Streaked with blood
To match the cuts
New to our fists.
Bryan Nov 2017
He must have seen my face,
and smelled the adrenaline
as I searched for my blade,
thoughts of anger turned to him.

He reached into the air,
In attempt to catch the wind,
And in his hand appeared my heart.
The monster held me at his whim.

"I am bound by rule,
as was The Queen, by this curse.
I can only hint
at the nature of its worst.
I have played my part well,
if I may say so first.
The rules of curse dictate
it is time to reimburse.
...With that being stated,
I'm sorry if this hurts..."

Frozen in my place
by the touch he did impart,
I was once again at mercy
of the mystery of art.
Rumpelstiltskin, in control,
took my sword, and pierced my heart.
I saw it melt into the blade,
as it became the vital part.
I once again could move,
I realized, with a start.

"Here now, we have an edge,"
he said, "that knows a thing or two
about the rose, and the thorn,
and the cold and fire, too.
It has pierced the hearts of three,
first me, then queen, then you.
This sword knows more
of this kingdom than you do.
When it's placed within your palm,
you will only see the truth.
Keep it with you always.
May your rule be long and smooth."

I hesitated, full of fear,
that this act had been a ruse,
and Rumpelstiltskin had been waiting
for this very moment's cue
to strike me down with magicked blade,
if his appearance was a clue.
...But then again, I recalled,
how my men had been subdued,
and in my horror, at their states,
I might have stricken them down, too.
This ugly vision lended aid,
and nothing more that came undue.

I was shocked and dismayed
and overjoyed at what ensued:
When I gripped the Thorn of Rose,
every lie I ever knew
was blown away, in single gust:
So much smoke through open flue.
Rumpelstiltskin had gone,
and a blizzard filled the room.
Georgia Kereopa Oct 2019
words magicked from air
dance joyfully on the page
sprouting wings to soar
haiku
Lauren Sage Dec 2019
And I never told you how I feel
Poisoned, like a tired old thing which has
Died and been magicked back to life in the same
Lumpy, raggedy body
Sawdust at the seams, eyes dull from rubbing
A velveteen rabbit worn to skin, fit for the fire to
Wash away the contagion and stink of sickness

I convince myself this is not the case I
Convince people around me this is not the case but after the
Parties are done and the work is gone and the exams are finished I feel
That weariness in my bones that this is who I am
A dead thing that pretends to be alive

You called me silvertongue once,
‘You could sell beans to a bean farmer,’
Let me do you one better, bud,
I’ve been selling beans to myself knowing
That they will never grow
I spit them around me when I feel the grit in my mouth like
Malformed pearls, nuptial gifts to myself
The ultimate scam, they build and build around me, they balance on each other
Higher and higher they pile, pebbles on rocks until they wall me in and I think
This time with fear
What if they grow? What happens if they grow?
Is this what life is? Am I doing it?
Kansas is still where we left it,
caked in dust, oh
must we go back there?

We stayed with the wizards of wizardry
who magicked disbelief right out
of me
but
Kansas is still where we left it.

Under the rainbow of all I desire
with her eyes she stripped me and
set me on fire,
I leave the rest to your imagination.

Dorothy left me for Alice and
Alice left Christopher Robin,

the twenty first century won't even mention me
but Kansas is still where we left it,
Neil Ang Jul 2019
The seediest part of the seediest place in town. A place where dreams go to die. A place where all relationships are transactional and all are doomed to last less than a night.There's a special type of misery here. A specific sadness that is at once heartbreaking but also insanely addictive. Tens of people seated in a dingy noisy sorry excuse for a bar sharing an experience called loss. Maybe the loss of a loved one, maybe the loss of innocence. More likely the loss of something of financial value.

Human nature is such that we loathe and crave company. We wish to be alone but are painfully drawn towards each other. Hating that we are but unable to separate ourselves from a deep dark primeval fear... The fear of loneliness. For as evolution has taught us, think hundreds of bespectacled scientists, many speaking with the current prestige accent of our respective languages, are fond of telling us, it's because back in the day when were stuck in t' savannah, the last one left behind was often prey to t'lions, leopards or sabertooth tigers.

There's some truth in this... But as much as we would like to think everything can be magicked away by science and evolution, life is rarely that simple.

More likely as alluded to, there's something invisible inside us all that draws us to each other. Sometimes like souls to like souls, other times opposites attract. Maybe it's our innate hopefulness that there's someone out there who understands you or in the luckier cases loves you. A little voice that drives you to keep going. What happens when you finally shut out that voice?

What will be left keeping you going?
Lawrence Hall Jul 10
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                        Their Ephemeral Temples Look Much the Same

Their ephemeral temples look much the same
In a semi-circle the faithful sit or stand
And turn their eager faces to an altar flood-lit
To be magicked by their leaders and gods

They wave their arms in ecstasy and awe
While lantern-slides of flags and martyred heroes
Ripple as electronic waves beamed into their eyes
Commanding free obedience through spontaneous scripts

At dawn

Contractors will tear away the plywood and paint
Take down the plastic statues and columns
The recordings of programmed emotions
And heave them into the beds of rented trucks

Preaching or politics, or some other game:
Their ephemeral temples look much the same
Lawrence Hall Mar 31
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                    Unthrifty Loveliness

                               Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 4

I had told her how beautiful she was
(she knew that through the mirror, mirror on the wall)
For her bold eyes were upon herself
As she magicked with lipstick and mascara

I had hoped her blush was for me to gaze upon
Her hair, her perfect lips, her slender hips
Over candlelight at the Starlight Roof
Then the telephone, not nature, called her away

I had told her how beautiful she was
That sports-car guy, far handsomer than I
Had said so too
Shakespeare, Sonnet 4

— The End —