"priam" poems
Shouting for longevity,
Slamming at the counterers…
- upon your dignified respite!
Would-be detractors without brevity,
Before the wine-dark Sea at night…
A pleading to philosophy of commonly renowned,
Beating sand and posturing, uncouth before a crown;
“Priam please!”
Sun and Moon,
two sons shall plead,
nay, -beg in tandem with the man;
“He serves the seas, trust him please, our father; this priest of Trojan-land!”
Laocoon
“Fear the Greeks, of mind I speak, approval by a van-i-ty; it surely is a death you seek!
An asp this horse, gift no more and tragedy in due remorse,
I beg of you my call to heed, wooden-burnt this crispy steed,
…alight in flame, glorified name; Poseidon shall endorse!”
Priests of Apollo
“Ridiculous! Worship we must, now bring it to the City thus!”
Laocoon
“The actions of accursed Kore,
Need I remind you all Paris caused this war?
For he mocked this god, the abyss it knows, with terror comes a deadly tide,
**** that fool and his fiddling pride!*
Burn this beast we must with haste for Greeks they have a certain taste,
Their acts meant always to confound, wily, since they were unbound.
What harm may do, to rest at shore? Consult the stars of yester-yore.
Assign no chore, one heaven’s night, plus a day, to sit upon our princely shore?”
Setting
(read/spoken at the fastest pace the reader can go)
A horrid hiss above the wave as two doth slither from out the cave…
The creatures from the darkest days, ancient spectacle for the knaves, bear witness to the punishment, commanded by a great trident, hearing screams of bannermen, for King and council a shocking twist, serpents ****** from out the mists, encircling priest and his kin, the howling they had done no sin, never be forgot-ten, as Typhon cried out merrily, serpents and the tragic sea; swallowed up all the three.
Priam
“Farewell dear Laocoon and two sons with thee!” *
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
Prideful father of two men
Even to his eldest day
Remained stiff and unbroken
While Hector was taken away
His inner strength rivaled steel
Enough to make his enemies kneel
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Our efforts are those of the unfortunate;
our efforts are like those of the Trojans.
Somewhat we succeed; somewhat
we regain confidence; and we start
to have courage and high hopes.
But something always happens and stops us.
Achilles in the trench before us
emerges and with loud cries terrifies us.--
Our efforts are like those of the Trojans.
We believe that with resolution and daring
we will alter the blows of destiny,
and we stand outside to do battle.
But when the great crisis comes,
our daring and our resolution vanish;
our soul is agitated, paralyzed;
and we run around the walls
seeking to save ourselves in flight.
Nevertheless, our fall is certain. Above,
on the walls, the mourning has already begun.
The memories and the sentiments of our days weep.
Bitterly Priam and Hecuba weep for us.
1.4k
Lost on the plains of ancient Ílion,
Treading the windswept soil and stone,
I sense the ghosts of warriors and horsemen,
Of dark-eyed women and jealous kings.
Their history scattered, burned and ruined,
Pressed by time and scavenging hordes,
Yet restored to life in song and verse.
When poets and imagining hearts were stirred
To find heroes among brutal soldiers
And reasons for violence masked as greed.
Shades of blue lost to time reappear.
In their winding brains goddesses walked,
Holding an aegis made that bore a Gorgon’s face
Or gods who guided arrows and chose the dead.
Bards ever kept alive the rival gods
Before whom King Priam bowed and Achilles defiled.
Across the grape-blood waters of the Hellespont,
Aphrodite savored her own victory and watched
As Paris still kept the women she had given him.
Love was not among her calculations
Nor those of Zeus when he forbade hindrance
By the gods, who yet battled among themselves.
As mortal enemies fought the coming of allies.
For ten years, ships and horses swarmed to aid
The unbowed city, even Memnon and Penthesilia,
Both slain by the sword for reasons then forgot,
So their sacrifices failed to dent a lust for blood.
Yet armies tired and war ended, as all wars do,
Through fatigue or fire or the scattering of slaves.
Now time has whitened the ruins and sands
And Boreas sweeps away the shards of stain
That dyed the cities’ walls and columns.
The scarlet buried below Herculaneum is gone,
And saffron gowns on dancing virgins,
All the horses’ indigo manes and hyakinthos
Sandals of Achilles, whose mother dyed them
Before he sailed, forgetting his Stygian bath.
He was clad in red to hide his blood,
So when wounded, his men would not cower.
Yet one arrow alone took his life; how telling
That more valiant men lost theirs closer to the soul!
Gone are the sheep, red-fleeced with madder
And argamon robes of brides and Cybele’s priests.
No sacrificial lambs or holy men walk here now,
On the bone white land and relics of a kingdom,
Yet the north wind, the lone god, continues to wail.
March 5, 2020
Mar 13, 2020
Mar 13, 2020 at 8:09 AM UTC
ACHILLES son of king PELUS of PHTHIA.
From near Thessalia not Sparta.
Born near where you parents married on mount Pelion.
Your mother Thetis a NYMPH known by AGAMENON.
King MENELAUS'S betrayal the Greeks all cross the Aegean.
Odysseus and PATROCLUS an armada some by passing the CRETAN.
Sons of Priam killed and only Odysseus escaped back to Ithica.
The BESIEGING of Troy in a wooden horse from Sparta.
Prince of the Myrmidon's to avenge PATROCLUS it's HECTOR you cut down.
All Troy did burn weak horse lovers they should have fled and in the RIVER STYX they would drown.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 6:02 AM UTC
You are the light, I am the night.
You are the telescope, I am the subject.
You are the root, I am the fruit.
You are the branch, I am the leaves.
You are the reader, I am the book.
You are the writer, I am the words.
You are the canvas, I am the brush.
You are the skin, I am the blade.
- priam ; twist
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 12:39 AM UTC
Unrequited love
or a lost one
Heal with time,
all said and done.
But what of Priam,
the man who kissed,
the hand that slew his son?
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 4:51 AM UTC
*some do argue that devolving the philosophical desire for a non-existent god, with the noun god, itself, one falls prey to the heresy of extracting, what aristotle called: the proper name; to say the long story short, if one applies a convincing noun to at already albino noun, such that "god" represents... simple: atheists call him by the "name" persona non grata... in philosophy it seems to state that applying the hebraic association to a very real noun, to foundation for heretical musing of: with the wish, to no apparent existential foundation; other than the one albino, or the one bleached; but if there be a needle-sized-puncture into the name... if would come out in phoneticism, notably in a language that still thinks itself as being roman, akin to to the trojans thinking themselves resurrected in the phrase: ego sum priam, or: ego, hector; but mention the name within the confines of "serious" discussion, and it falls into that couldron of thor, zeus, odin jupiter et al. of all the names, this hebraic name had to precipitate the "object", rather than the subject of investigation... and the object became "word": i.e. god... word meaning: grammatically neutral, or noun-ambivalent... i'm not a jew, but i can say when i see something having a perpetuated invitation in a language, such as english, where there is no diacritical revision of latin (i & j do not count) - and it's in a 1 + 1 = 2 proof... the alphabetical a, and the ah (expression of surprise / pleasure / sympathy / realisation) - also aye / why and i... there's also the eh?! and the alphabetical e... is this not the case, of how the hebraic tetragrammaton noun-divinity reveals itself? only in a language that's diacritically naked, like in english, is it most apparent.*
napoleon once said:
a man who speaks two tongues is worth
two people...
same could be said
of a person who thinks about god:
namely:
he's worth the entire congregation
of a church who
pray and prostate themselves
as if lunatics, or those on hallucinogenic
substances.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
(PRIAM PEARE)
Antipathy sawn upon thy visage,
Shackled in violent phrase;
For thy identity disqualified masterpiece.
“I'm a peasant in society.”
(AURELIA BORÉALIS)
Deprived to let liberty roam on their entirety,
Diminishments were bestowed upon them by the sky and galaxies,
Intoxication of their hypocricy killed their dignity,
Lifeless and despaired—still awaits for the longed equality.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC