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But when their flight had taken them past the trench and the set
stakes, and many had fallen by the hands of the Danaans, the Trojans
made a halt on reaching their chariots, routed and pale with fear.
Jove now woke on the crests of Ida, where he was lying with
golden-throned Juno by his side, and starting to his feet he saw the
Trojans and Achaeans, the one thrown into confusion, and the others
driving them pell-mell before them with King Neptune in their midst.
He saw Hector lying on the ground with his comrades gathered round
him, gasping for breath, wandering in mind and vomiting blood, for
it was not the feeblest of the Achaeans who struck him.
  The sire of gods and men had pity on him, and looked fiercely on
Juno. “I see, Juno,” said he, “you mischief—making trickster, that
your cunning has stayed Hector from fighting and has caused the rout
of his host. I am in half a mind to thrash you, in which case you will
be the first to reap the fruits of your scurvy knavery. Do you not
remember how once upon a time I had you hanged? I fastened two
anvils on to your feet, and bound your hands in a chain of gold
which none might break, and you hung in mid-air among the clouds.
All the gods in Olympus were in a fury, but they could not reach you
to set you free; when I caught any one of them I gripped him and
hurled him from the heavenly threshold till he came fainting down to
earth; yet even this did not relieve my mind from the incessant
anxiety which I felt about noble Hercules whom you and Boreas had
spitefully conveyed beyond the seas to Cos, after suborning the
tempests; but I rescued him, and notwithstanding all his mighty
labours I brought him back again to Argos. I would remind you of
this that you may learn to leave off being so deceitful, and
discover how much you are likely to gain by the embraces out of
which you have come here to trick me.”
  Juno trembled as he spoke, and said, “May heaven above and earth
below be my witnesses, with the waters of the river Styx—and this
is the most solemn oath that a blessed god can take—nay, I swear also
by your own almighty head and by our bridal bed—things over which I
could never possibly perjure myself—that Neptune is not punishing
Hector and the Trojans and helping the Achaeans through any doing of
mine; it is all of his own mere motion because he was sorry to see the
Achaeans hard pressed at their ships: if I were advising him, I should
tell him to do as you bid him.”
  The sire of gods and men smiled and answered, “If you, Juno, were
always to support me when we sit in council of the gods, Neptune, like
it or no, would soon come round to your and my way of thinking. If,
then, you are speaking the truth and mean what you say, go among the
rank and file of the gods, and tell Iris and Apollo lord of the bow,
that I want them—Iris, that she may go to the Achaean host and tell
Neptune to leave off fighting and go home, and Apollo, that he may
send Hector again into battle and give him fresh strength; he will
thus forget his present sufferings, and drive the Achaeans back in
confusion till they fall among the ships of Achilles son of Peleus.
Achilles will then send his comrade Patroclus into battle, and
Hector will **** him in front of Ilius after he has slain many
warriors, and among them my own noble son Sarpedon. Achilles will ****
Hector to avenge Patroclus, and from that time I will bring it about
that the Achaeans shall persistently drive the Trojans back till
they fulfil the counsels of Minerva and take Ilius. But I will not
stay my anger, nor permit any god to help the Danaans till I have
accomplished the desire of the son of Peleus, according to the promise
I made by bowing my head on the day when Thetis touched my knees and
besought me to give him honour.”
  Juno heeded his words and went from the heights of Ida to great
Olympus. Swift as the thought of one whose fancy carries him over vast
continents, and he says to himself, “Now I will be here, or there,”
and he would have all manner of things—even so swiftly did Juno
wing her way till she came to high Olympus and went in among the
gods who were gathered in the house of Jove. When they saw her they
all of them came up to her, and held out their cups to her by way of
greeting. She let the others be, but took the cup offered her by
lovely Themis, who was first to come running up to her. “Juno,” said
she, “why are you here? And you seem troubled—has your husband the
son of Saturn been frightening you?”
  And Juno answered, “Themis, do not ask me about it. You know what
a proud and cruel disposition my husband has. Lead the gods to
table, where you and all the immortals can hear the wicked designs
which he has avowed. Many a one, mortal and immortal, will be
angered by them, however peaceably he may be feasting now.”
  On this Juno sat down, and the gods were troubled throughout the
house of Jove. Laughter sat on her lips but her brow was furrowed with
care, and she spoke up in a rage. “Fools that we are,” she cried,
“to be thus madly angry with Jove; we keep on wanting to go up to
him and stay him by force or by persuasion, but he sits aloof and
cares for nobody, for he knows that he is much stronger than any other
of the immortals. Make the best, therefore, of whatever ills he may
choose to send each one of you; Mars, I take it, has had a taste of
them already, for his son Ascalaphus has fallen in battle—the man
whom of all others he loved most dearly and whose father he owns
himself to be.”
  When he heard this Mars smote his two sturdy thighs with the flat of
his hands, and said in anger, “Do not blame me, you gods that dwell in
heaven, if I go to the ships of the Achaeans and avenge the death of
my son, even though it end in my being struck by Jove’s lightning
and lying in blood and dust among the corpses.”
  As he spoke he gave orders to yoke his horses Panic and Rout,
while he put on his armour. On this, Jove would have been roused to
still more fierce and implacable enmity against the other immortals,
had not Minerva, ararmed for the safety of the gods, sprung from her
seat and hurried outside. She tore the helmet from his head and the
shield from his shoulders, and she took the bronze spear from his
strong hand and set it on one side; then she said to Mars, “Madman,
you are undone; you have ears that hear not, or you have lost all
judgement and understanding; have you not heard what Juno has said
on coming straight from the presence of Olympian Jove? Do you wish
to go through all kinds of suffering before you are brought back
sick and sorry to Olympus, after having caused infinite mischief to
all us others? Jove would instantly leave the Trojans and Achaeans
to themselves; he would come to Olympus to punish us, and would grip
us up one after another, guilty or not guilty. Therefore lay aside
your anger for the death of your son; better men than he have either
been killed already or will fall hereafter, and one cannot protect
every one’s whole family.”
  With these words she took Mars back to his seat. Meanwhile Juno
called Apollo outside, with Iris the messenger of the gods. “Jove,”
she said to them, “desires you to go to him at once on Mt. Ida; when
you have seen him you are to do as he may then bid you.”
  Thereon Juno left them and resumed her seat inside, while Iris and
Apollo made all haste on their way. When they reached
many-fountained Ida, mother of wild beasts, they found Jove seated
on topmost Gargarus with a fragrant cloud encircling his head as
with a diadem. They stood before his presence, and he was pleased with
them for having been so quick in obeying the orders his wife had given
them.
  He spoke to Iris first. “Go,” said he, “fleet Iris, tell King
Neptune what I now bid you—and tell him true. Bid him leave off
fighting, and either join the company of the gods, or go down into the
sea. If he takes no heed and disobeys me, let him consider well
whether he is strong enough to hold his own against me if I attack
him. I am older and much stronger than he is; yet he is not afraid
to set himself up as on a level with myself, of whom all the other
gods stand in awe.”
  Iris, fleet as the wind, obeyed him, and as the cold hail or
snowflakes that fly from out the clouds before the blast of Boreas,
even so did she wing her way till she came close up to the great
shaker of the earth. Then she said, “I have come, O dark-haired king
that holds the world in his embrace, to bring you a message from Jove.
He bids you leave off fighting, and either join the company of the
gods or go down into the sea; if, however, you take no heed and
disobey him, he says he will come down here and fight you. He would
have you keep out of his reach, for he is older and much stronger than
you are, and yet you are not afraid to set yourself up as on a level
with himself, of whom all the other gods stand in awe.”
  Neptune was very angry and said, “Great heavens! strong as Jove
may be, he has said more than he can do if he has threatened
violence against me, who am of like honour with himself. We were three
brothers whom Rhea bore to Saturn—Jove, myself, and Hades who rules
the world below. Heaven and earth were divided into three parts, and
each of us was to have an equal share. When we cast lots, it fell to
me to have my dwelling in the sea for evermore; Hades took the
darkness of the realms under the earth, while air and sky and clouds
were the portion that fell to Jove; but earth and great Olympus are
the common property of all. Therefore I will not walk as Jove would
have me. For all his strength, let him keep to his own third share and
be contented without threatening to lay hands upon me as though I were
nobody. Let him keep his bragging talk for his own sons and daughters,
who must perforce obey him.
  Iris fleet as the wind then answered, “Am I really, Neptune, to take
this daring and unyielding message to Jove, or will you reconsider
your answer? Sensible people are open to argument, and you know that
the Erinyes always range themselves on the side of the older person.”
  Neptune answered, “Goddess Iris, your words have been spoken in
season. It is well when a messenger shows so much discretion.
Nevertheless it cuts me to the very heart that any one should rebuke
so angrily another who is his own peer, and of like empire with
himself. Now, however, I will give way in spite of my displeasure;
furthermore let me tell you, and I mean what I say—if contrary to the
desire of myself, Minerva driver of the spoil, Juno, Mercury, and King
Vulcan, Jove spares steep Ilius, and will not let the Achaeans have
the great triumph of sacking it, let him understand that he will incur
our implacable resentment.”
  Neptune now left the field to go down under the sea, and sorely
did the Achaeans miss him. Then Jove said to Apollo, “Go, dear
Phoebus, to Hector, for Neptune who holds the earth in his embrace has
now gone down under the sea to avoid the severity of my displeasure.
Had he not done so those gods who are below with Saturn would have
come to hear of the fight between us. It is better for both of us that
he should have curbed his anger and kept out of my reach, for I should
have had much trouble with him. Take, then, your tasselled aegis,
and shake it furiously, so as to set the Achaean heroes in a panic;
take, moreover, brave Hector, O Far-Darter, into your own care, and
rouse him to deeds of daring, till the Achaeans are sent flying back
to their ships and to the Hellespont. From that point I will think
it well over, how the Achaeans may have a respite from their
troubles.”
  Apollo obeyed his father’s saying, and left the crests of Ida,
flying like a falcon, bane of doves and swiftest of all birds. He
found Hector no longer lying upon the ground, but sitting up, for he
had just come to himself again. He knew those who were about him,
and the sweat and hard breathing had left him from the moment when the
will of aegis-bearing Jove had revived him. Apollo stood beside him
and said, “Hector, son of Priam, why are you so faint, and why are you
here away from the others? Has any mishap befallen you?”
  Hector in a weak voice answered, “And which, kind sir, of the gods
are you, who now ask me thus? Do you not know that Ajax struck me on
the chest with a stone as I was killing his comrades at the ships of
the Achaeans, and compelled me to leave off fighting? I made sure that
this very day I should breathe my last and go down into the house of
Hades.”
  Then King Apollo said to him, “Take heart; the son of Saturn has
sent you a mighty helper from Ida to stand by you and defend you, even
me, Phoebus Apollo of the golden sword, who have been guardian
hitherto not only of yourself but of your city. Now, therefore,
order your horsemen to drive their chariots to the ships in great
multitudes. I will go before your horses to smooth the way for them,
and will turn the Achaeans in flight.”
  As he spoke he infused great strength into the shepherd of his
people. And as a horse, stabled and full-fed, breaks loose and gallops
gloriously over the plain to the place where he is wont to take his
bath in the river—he tosses his head, and his mane streams over his
shoulders as in all the pride of his strength he flies full speed to
the pastures where the mares are feeding—even so Hector, when he
heard what the god said, urged his horsemen on, and sped forward as
fast as his limbs could take him. As country peasants set their hounds
on to a homed stag or wild goat—he has taken shelter under rock or
thicket, and they cannot find him, but, lo, a bearded lion whom
their shouts have roused stands in their path, and they are in no
further humour for the chase—even so the Achaeans were still charging
on in a body, using their swords and spears pointed at both ends,
but when they saw Hector going about among his men they were afraid,
and their hearts fell down into their feet.
  Then spoke Thoas son of Andraemon, leader of the Aetolians, a man
who could throw a good throw, and who was staunch also in close fight,
while few could surpass him in debate when opinions were divided. He
then with all sincerity and goodwill addressed them thus: “What, in
heaven’s name, do I now see? Is it not Hector come to life again?
Every one made sure he had been killed by Ajax son of Telamon, but
it seems that one of the gods has again rescued him. He has killed
many of us Danaans already, and I take it will yet do so, for the hand
of Jove must be with him or he would never dare show himself so
masterful in the forefront of the battle. Now, therefore, let us all
do as I say; let us order the main body of our forces to fall back
upon the ships, but let those of us who profess to be the flower of
the army stand firm, and see whether we cannot hold Hector back at the
point of our spears as soon as he comes near us; I conceive that he
will then think better of it before he tries to charge into the
press of the Danaans.”
  Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. Those who
were about Ajax and King Idomeneus, the followers moreover of
Teucer, Meriones, and Meges peer of Mars called all their best men
about them and sustained the fight against Hector and the Trojans, but
the main body fell back upon the ships of the Achaeans.
  The Trojans pressed forward in a dense body, with Hector striding on
at their head. Before him went Phoebus Apollo shrouded in cloud
about his shoulders. He bore aloft the terrible aegis with its
shaggy fringe, which Vulcan the smith had given Jove to strike
terror into the hearts of men. With this in his hand he led on the
Trojans.
  The Argives held together and stood their ground. The cry of
battle rose high from either side, and the arrows flew from the
bowstrings. Many a spear sped from strong hands and fastened in the
bodies of many a valiant warrior, while others fell to earth midway,
before they could taste of man’s fair flesh and glut themselves with
blood. So long as Phoebus Apollo held his aegis quietly and without
shaking it, the weapons on either side took effect and the people
fell, but when he shook it straight in the face of the Danaans and
raised
C X Rutledge Nov 2014
Inside-outside, upside-down. Constant motion, spinning round.
Conscious split, two sides torn. Personalities are born.
Balanced, stabled, falling down. Spilling over onto the ground.
Thoughts amuck, frayed and tattered. Sanity beaten, bruised, and battered.
Sailing, drowning, waters of my mind. Washed upon its shores I might find.
Forgetting rhythm, losing time.  Blacking out, right here is fine.
I'll end this now, my own terms. I'll perplex them, their thoughts will burn.
Gathering together my person, my flock. I'll lay it's all down on the chopping block.  
Panting, sweating, head in hand. It's okay... Im normal again.
Just trying to figure some stuff out.
Joseph S C Pope Mar 2013
The writer is

                                                             ­ bound by the Oedipus
                                          cauldron stewing          can't relax

                          --all women are mine--
                                                          ­       but this doesn't stop the bloating bubbles.

                     But the writer did not invent Wonderlandia
               --no double-sided tape or wrong number or sloppy poetics.

                              Wonderlandia was born from the ***** of the stars
                                                         --our fathers,
                              and the void of space,
                                                     --our mother's womb.
the writer

                                             was busy staring at the girls that walked by
                                        ditch diggers for renovations on Euphoria.
                The hippies are disappointed in this current Wonderlandia,
   or they would be.

                               Their dreams had dirt in the mud,
                they walked upon.                Our Woodstock
                                                       ­         is celebrity interviews,
                                                     ­           reservations failing,
                                                        ­        political satires--the last ring of change
             sold at five cents a word. Period.

the writer
                                        says it understands and writes:
                      "Sticks shaped from elitism
                        rare.
                        Usually a vibe too brittle,
                        breaking in battle.
                        The bass thundered robins.
                        The snare's firearm stabled the swift,
                        electrifying beat.
                        The brass was addiction
                        to the crowd's ears.
                        All before the elitism was born,
                        a symphony was constructed in the drug's head."

the writer
                                knows about D. A. Levy and his revolution,
                  we all felt that voice, so the writer replies:
                               "Did you hear about the John Lennon poser
                                 waving his gun on TV?
                                 While listening to the Beatles, you
                                 sit and watch the vagabond cry.
                                 He says, "Counter-culture is dead, entombed
                                 in a metal casket.
                                 We need a new flame. Those watching TV
                                 get your hands out of the basket."

the writer
                                        walks with grandma Alice
                                       by lakes,
                                                       thrilling dementia
                                    "Don't tell me what taurine
                                      and caffeine can do to my heart.
                                      I can have alligators in my rib meat
                                      eating away at bone marrow.

                                      High? That's your question?
                                      Hi...I am a float
                                      in a useless pond
                                      bordered by malnourished trees.

                                      By the love of hell you better not
                                      fertilize those ****** trees
                                      because if I die
                                      the alligator of my ribs
                                      will dine and take your ****
                                      girlfriend straight to the vet.
                                      I thank you for asking though."

    the writer misses
                                 the syrup in the tree completely
              
                     I am not your beatnik
                                or future idol--burn your 1970's classrooms away.
Logan Robertson May 2018
If his bed was empty,
where once red poppies
bobbed a sled
downhill.
It became colder
and thin ice grew.
From the starting gate,
they fell,
spawned indifference,
for they were like two horses,
stabled in the face.
Reined for the show.
With blue ribbons in their eyes,
so very prim and proper
in public eyes.
Away, their tongues at war,
fueling the armies,
in their eyes.
He cried the impending emptiness,
warmth and love,
the empty bed.
The pound of fish
on Fridays.
And slices of cake,
where the red poppies
come to thrive
and the sled cherishing
the ride.
Yet.
Blind not to her vices and him.
Their marriage dissolved.
Infidelity in her back pocket
and undoubtedly a bigger sled.
Where are my angels,
he cried so often
the last thirty years
of darkness.
Where unfortunate endings
replaced auspices beginnings
and shadow dancing replaced romance.
See through
a lone wolf distancing from the pack.

Logan Robertson

5/17/2018
O Liberty, God-gifted--
Young and immortal maid--
In your high hand uplifted,
The torch declares your trade.
Its crimson menace, flaming
Upon the sea and shore,
Is, trumpet-like, proclaiming
That Law shall be no more.
Austere incendiary,
We're blinking in the light;
Where is your customary
Grenade of dynamite?

Where are your staves and switches
For men of gentle birth?
Your mask and dirk for riches?
Your chains for wit and worth?

Perhaps, you've brought the halters
You used in the old days,
When round religion's altars
You stabled Cromwell's bays?

Behind you, unsuspected,
Have you the axe, fair *****,
Wherewith you once collected
A poll-tax for the French?

America salutes you--
Preparing to "disgorge."
Take everything that suits you,
And marry Henry George.
Pagan Paul Mar 2017
.
War. Famine.
Pestilence. Death.
Enjoy a game of poker.
It relieves the boredom.
They only have one Big project
booked into the work diary.
The horses are stabled,
so why not have down time?
The day-to-day business
takes care of itself.
Ably supervised by the humans
in a race to the Big day.

The stillness is penetrated by sound.
Death cleaning his teeth
with his reaping scythe or
Death sharpening his reaping scythe
on his teeth.
Either way, it shattered vertebrae.
His nerves were getting twitchy.
Three Kings, the Jack and Queen of Clubs.
Royals were dropping like flies.
It was going to be a busy night.
He met Wars eyes and her bet,
(****! She looks beautiful sweating),
paid an advance and called.
Uncharacteristically delicate,
he lay down his souls.
Jack and Queen of Clubs.
Kings of Diamonds, Spades and Hearts.

War smiled sweetly.
Her dirk-like eyelashes
fluttering an assassins dance.
Letting her cards fall soft,
triumphant with winners ecstasy,
she declares her hand...




… “SNAP!” she says.




© Pagan Paul (14/03/17)
.
Terry Collett Jan 2013
You followed Julie
in and out
of book shops
along Charing Cross Road

watching
as she picked out
a book to view
a few pages

or run a thin finger
down the book’s spine
studying her face
as she took out

a Sartre or Wittgenstein
her eyes running
along the lines
mouthing the big words

she talking
of her parents
the doctors
how they were pretty much

shot out of the sky
when they discovered
she was stabled up
in some hospital wing

for drug plunging
or pill popping
and you should have seen
my mother’s face

she said
like daddy
had ****** her ****
she picked out

a book by Schopenhauer
the old philosopher’s face
on the cover
staring out

you searched her eyes
the depth of them
the colour
the changing hue

from what appeared
green to blue
and green again
or so it seemed

when have you got
to be back
in the hospital?
you asked

6pm or so
she muttered
pushing the book back
on the shelf

wiping her hands
on her jeans
her small ****
indicating their presence

as she moved
toward you
what are your parents
going do about you?

you asked
keep out of sight
of their posh friends
say I’m abroad

or someplace else
you noticed her lips
as she spoke
her tongue

moving over them
like some waking snake
then she moved on and out
of the shop

and along the road
you kept up beside her
sensing her hand
seeking yours

taking one
of your fingers
she put it
to her mouth

and gave a ****
and eyed you
sideways on
with that grin

she sometimes wore
that young middle class
English  girl
playing the *****.
J Christmas Jan 2019
Amillion steel pin ****** divine
each day closer to death we climb
crystal shards bejewel the sky
While
The Cities beneath me
Kicking and crying
But all I hear is goodbye
-
Unreason not able
Why are these ****** Not stabled
Just wanderin
Thru this fable
stubbed my toe
on your god of stone
That litters this river
We all flow
So
Let’s dance in this
Technicolor bliss
And never ending showers
of little lead gifts
human disinfectant
for where the slime live
Where the slime live
-
Broken bones remind the soul
of the all violence that’s been sold
All the while racing toward
that ever after
We once called home
No more
boiling jealousy
envious bedroom eyes
hideous tongues beguile
Thick salavatory lies
Lifeless imbeciles
Revolving doors
carnivorous smiles  
covetous masturbators
**** Gazing while
Justice is *******
Coming a little premature
Serving our just deserves
oh my libertine
How I loathe to
See you In chains
If their speed is good enough for 6 yr olds
Then it’s safe enough for me
HEY!!!!!
I want my! I want my! I want my
methamphetamine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-
I got too many middle fingers
Shoot straight from the cuff
Humans might lose the race
Oh well, close enough
Outlawed truth and reason
But here, I just took a dump
Never waste a good crisis
My Re-elected incumbents
Gotta Fill Them Prisons
Protest prices ‘cause
Dollars fill the fists
Along the streets uprisen
HEY!!!
Whats the policy on returns?
I’m just not happy with this
Oblivion
-
broadcast opinions
Regimental TV
Coerced confession
global stupidity
Yes, I’d like to report a hijacking
0f another species
Endangered or
Polluted at best
Just Don’t forget to breath
Oh yeah, you’re dead
Copyright2018 John D Christmas
Loose thoughts Feb 2015
A stabled heart, pain free,
Not that easy to maintain,
Lost ambitions and self esteem,
Not that easy to regain,

Bottled up, intense emotions,
Hold long will I refrain?
Criticism in different shapes 'n' colors,
How long will I contain?

Tell me, how can I not go insane?
When hurt is all that remains,
Tell me, how can I not be vain?
Can't take in any more pain,

Lost happiness, lost joy,
Nothing more left to destroy,
Lost count of the times I lost myself,
What else is there to drain?

~A.d | 3 Aug 2014
Jowlough Mar 2011
Have you seen the tremble of the gust?
that blows the land without any mercy,
Putting the damage on the lives of lonely people,
Uncontrolled acts that made the wind whistle.

Have you seen the earth shatter,
Mad rumbled and roared like a monster beast,
shivering with extreme grin and violence,
Lands torned apart caring on no one's presence.

Have you seen the water flowing from heaven,
on heavy volumes and unexpected occurence,
killing the lives of the stabled occupations
stumbled upon floods of the dying nation

Have you seen the giant waves of the coast?
or the fatal mud flows from volcanoes,
Can we know the point or we are so blind not to fear
that we are paying our tolls and the apocalypse is getting near.
(c) Earth's Toll - 3.14.11 - jcjuatco
Elioinai Oct 2014
O Lord,
Why does my heart cry out within me?
Why does it leap from mountain to valley,
From lofty tree to thorny bush?
Why does it smile sweetly and begin to sing,
Only to sigh and be downcast in another moment?
Truly, it does not reflect my life,
For my life is stable, and filled with good things,
You look upon me with love and blessing,
Caring and soothing are your ways.
But my heart won’t be hemmed in,
It refuses to be tranquil,
Like a high-spirited horse refusing to be stabled.
But on you I can always count,
To fill me with joy,
And satisfaction.
May I not sting others when I feel I’m in a pit,
Nor spit poison on myself when I see through clouded eyes.
November 30, 2012
When I was a bit unbalanced because I was eating the wrong foods. Believe me, food affects the mind.
Steve Page Aug 2021
Past and Future stabled together – both present, tethered, and unstable.

Kindred ghosts pushed-pulled by a hopeful anxiety,
agitated by the yet unknown morning, eager to be

free.  And once freed, breaking fast, bolt-bursting, in competition
– in unison,

leaving Present to peer from the darkness
– who will win after all?
past, present and future are uncomfortable stable-mates
nivek Aug 2016
I doubt it will be a game changer
such originality no one else thinks this way
but its good the white horses are back riding the sea
after being stabled for so long
the flat calm mill pond could not last
that glassy mirror full of sedate shining stars
I guess with a change of weather comes a changing of minds
When the harvest is in men traditionally go to war
too much time on their hands some say
and an unquenchable thirst to go ride the waves.
Benjamin Haynes Mar 2016
I searched the Sun back and forth for any remnant scorch marks of our love, but all that was left were trails blazed by broken hearts and the insecure decisions made by those around us, whom spoke sub zero opinions around our flame — Choking it into the frosted conversation on the cobble stones of my past habitation.

Now, we sit.

Miles apart — noses pierced.

A daily reminder of the intimacy and mirrored beauty we shared.


Now, all that’s left of our dialogue is a screen telling me, your updates of which you veneered to the general public about how you are feeling. 


The equator between us has left me naturally fading away, further and further into the arms of my pillow, where once you were held.


We clutched each others skins, pressing away the worries and troubles of which the world threw at us.

You were a high tower and refuge.
You stabled the light of which would beacon the rest of my lighthouse heart for the world to see.

 Silently, scuttling across the floors of seas we would sit.
Oblivious to the popular culture and its fierce tricks to drown us in capitalism.

Our Icarus hearts made from feathers of hope, melted into wax statues of Medusa villainy.

This drought through the desert has taken me more than 40 days, which feels like 40 years, passing through to eternity, just a few seconds ago.


I am truly Thirsty. 


You never wanted us to be sticky labeled and worn above the chest for the world to see ‘hi we’re called relationship, we are just like everyone else’.

No, you were not like that.

I hope you never will be.


How you used to stare at me staring at the visions of the day unfolding right before the eyes of the economical streets we used to walk upon.


I was lost in thought, as you were lost in mine, and then I gazed into yours and the lightbulb clicked and beamed my cheeks to grin, revealing whitened teeth, joyful in your spirit.


Alone, I gaze at the moon and release a lung filled sigh of cigar smoke and tilt my head back and think of what we were and where we will be.

Not  collectively, but by ourselves guided by the shadow of the moonlight, taking us to the tides shore to baptise us until we wake unknown to one another, like the first time I saw your face in Early November.
Piece of pitiful prose.
Loose thoughts Mar 2015
If only you knew,
How much I miss you,
Day would go dark,
Night would glow light,
The universe would reverse,
If I unleashed a word,
So I keep it all in,
Feelings all stirred,
Focus all blurred,
Seeking a stabled state,
Self beginning to deflate,
But I keep it all in,
Girl, where have you been,
Thoughts won't keep quiet,
Might burst in a bit,
The heart can't take it,
Trying to keep it all in,
A breath of release,
Im deeply longing.


~A.d | 11 Feb 2015
Bard May 2020
Shadow looms over the patriot nation
Darkness blooms over rot and revelation
Sadness runs across the holy nation
One under god Indivisible stagnation

Cant pray the disease away rotten to the core
Maggots fester in its brain as it screams for more
Cursed land of plenty parasites in every pore
Tragic fates for all who hate and adore

The past is genocidal our forefathers were homicidal
Get the pesticides and apartheid **** the undesirable
Dont think wrong, look wrong, be strong just be small
Cause above all this country is for the weak and frail

Small minds create the law Frail hearts preserve order
We ****, enslave, then set aside to create the mortar
Built the rails of immigrant backs got our labor mail order
Shipped them from Africa to be the chained and stabled labor

We committed upon humanity nuclear holocaust
And to be sure we did it again at reasonable cost
Landed on the shores and it would've all been lost
Found a savior and on a trail of tears they were cast

Now we stand divided by our caste by our birth
Left to escape the kings only to crown our first
There's a humor in this storied past a dark mirth
A nations hero complex perverted by imperial thirst

Conception of endless consumption capitalism's
Inception with bad intention left no options
They say socialism is communism and communism's
The devil all red looking for our destruction

Jesus has a Gucci  cross and Versace rags
Status and money worshiped in all these rags
News of the second coming stocks on the rise
Every day another person dies so a bottom line rise

And these people want to be crushed underfoot
Protesting protection demanding oppression
The uneducated pedestrian Loves licking boots
Complacent peasants never gonna change succession

Evil and corruption isn't only at the top look at us
***** in a *** make change seem like it treasonous
Cant even discuss trying to change the U.S.
Without some ******* saying just get off the bus

If you wanna see evil all you gotta do is look at the street
Where they'll lay you out and take the shoes off your feet
Everyone desperate poor man rob a poor man to eat
Everyone's addicted everyone's a deadbeat debts on our sheet

Sometimes it all feels hopeless like I'm helpless
To systemic problems made to chain my dreams
Only thing keeping me going is all my friends
I cant change the past or even the now nevertheless

I still exist and I am forced to coexist with this mess
Everyday historical its forecast oncoming endless stress
Every year piles on the duress death creeps in the press
Whispers in my head wonder if I could care less

Tired of caring about **** I cant change
Of a living in a  life I didn't make
Emptiness and regret/Contempt and rage
Emotions flipping  page to page
On my way to the pub

I was walking to the pub at sundown
when I reach my destination the last pink rays
on the sky was vanishing,
a promise of a sunny tomorrow.
On the road, I was overtaken by a horse
that neighed politely,
on its back, a crow sat using a foul language.
On the way back home I was late had
been playing poker with matches,
I lost a box.
I met the horse it offered to
take me home the foul crow hade gone.
I stabled the horse in the garage
gave it bread and water.
Next morning it was gone.
The crow sat on the window ledge
demanding a silver soup spoon and
an assortment of nuts.
Bæç shore Çhīldrēñ
Jērêmíel bêê Sūrē Çhīld

Lament Sore Eyesore Cane
ẞlävory æ Wär Sorrow

Lamentatory
Lamech-Cane-Story
Lament °³Orí
Lamemen èn theoremìnn

El-èdu-ma'rīè---
Elèdumarè
El-èhdu-ma'rīè---
Elèdumar­­è
Èl'hell doom I rate
49°
3l'law-dù-Í'rare


3l'æîr' ~tø my Īrīē
A laid room I made
Edē'n Nubiãn
Key key
Care care
Parãdîßê

He made known the beginning from the end
He who is the end from the beginning

666
Aint I Christ already,
Already done with entitlement•
Ancient I'm oldie
Day ēn timly Odette,
Ødēttê'él
Oldest tale
Devînè stœrì

Mī Oøni Õdēth Pærl
A-bell clœck
A Cain æ spherically õldest lawv
A-læd³
Ī-led-her
A-ledge-dā,
A lëdg³ dâ
Jerry too Arayà

Land free of doom Baby ã-låw
Land of counted star Cush-height
Land of fulfilled Promise Kem-care
Land  of disciplinary Lake of hellas
Land of the fair Oønī

A Shy-Lawl- arry-thing no eth err
A-chair-lów- Everything
Shiloh Carefree
Ka-ifa Virtuously D³vinatory
Is so ³cool

Orun-Iwà bieng-lawed
³-mold-hear

Imowé.
³-mold no.
El-cclisiastic Ka how Dã SOLOMON
Turn-IYESUS.
ORISHANLÀ A1


ærth ³mold know Ī speak everything
El-cclisiastic Ka how SØLØMØN
Trasfigured as IYESUS.
Dā JÈRÊMÎĒL
ØRÎSHA'NLÀ

Forever Living ẞmīlê
Œh me
Eternal Everlasting is all me
Ærth owe me.
Perfected & Sacredly•

I had
I.AM YHWz Abba HIM
Īñ My "SCHOOL" All-MÉ.
ẞïgn
īã Zîóñ

A LORD GOD FATHER A KING
DĀ LEADER
MÍ PERFECT A-LONE ME.
IA-GUN °Cord-
Hæ Òrùn Ogun.


Brilliant Genius Dinstiction Excellent
{PERFECT} Hæ Œgun

POWER ALMIGHTY
Mean less without measurement
of homeliness

POWER Æ MIGHT
ALL FULLNESS
Mean ẞhīlø~Àmour ....
101000° rated
Balance Stable
All sowing good
101000° rated homeliness

A lawed room I'rate
A law do my rare
A loād-do-i'rea-thīnk
Allien intelligence
law do I matory 49°

All bow Kneel headed
eth -fair
Ifé
Oønī years rated.
Līving Alone
•••

666
Nathan Haile
A down-el' me
A daniel me
A dan here me
A dan hell me
daniel hail me
Apple-baptist
Dis Lost.



Basin-Math-Mat call
(Educationally Traditionally Religiously Culture-ry
Customary
Costom married
Answered Questional).


{Educationally Traditionally Religiously Culture--ry
Customary
Costom married
Answered Questionally.

Gentleman éh~Oonī
Flawless victoratry
Stainless Smooth ~Lea~da..r
Effortless flow frequency sequence
Willed equity essence.

Ai Lawed room
Eh el da
Sense me laudatory

All roam Ī see now
All room Ī see now
All romed Ī ßee now
777


A fore dā
A sun °lèdg³ då I mõld
Lesser līght I moon


Arch-knowledgement very costly
Jērêmíel

Chakra Skin ³eye
God digger
gold digger
goal digger
go dig her
goad dā èl
goat dig ārk {grætest øf all tímely}


a ledge caculatory
answered agreed
(isé &Amen)
Yes sworn

cos Course Cause Curse Cost cure ³°***

(10/10)
No Gifted Luck
to my calculatory
All Lawv.

TIMĒLY~ FLÃG LÎÑ3~ÊDG3
[Prēy Prêsídóry Prêpóry]• TRIBAL~KÍÑDRËD
[Pēnāncē Âprîl]•
ÇHÛRÇH~ẞÇHOOL
[Pèity Prâyòry]•
KÎÑGDŒM~COMPLETE NATURAL THEOREMÍNN
[Pāīn Prâîßóry]•


A call en you shall be answered
seek en you shall find
A knock en it shall be open
Ask en you shall be giving
One excellent play °cord Prepóry•

°Hu Gehazi {Vīsīøn Dræm Wàter}
èn Dâ-Lilly {Delilah}
A1-Man {Låwd Beīng}
{Sheol- æ -mon}
I dress Ede'n

A diamond 6 and a golden 7
Health is wealth
Morally Naturally
From dusted water en ant into a tree
ēn ā ßæld scroll•

Literacy balanced stabled æ bēîng.

Nation tears•
Fulfilled satisfactory


Meaningful Meaningful
Omnī Omnī
ALMIGHTY SHÅLLŌM Í WÓÑ

ÏLL~HŪ~M~ĪÑÑ~ĀTĪÑG B3ÃÇ ŒD3TT3 FÆŒẞ ØøDËTH
William May 2019
My triggers are revealed
The entire plectrum spectrum
Scraped by bows
Hamartial law is meta-sin

Wild breath stabled in consonants
Like a pilgrim posing in an archway
A loaded bolt, an unquiet chamber
In naked exile---flailing at strangers

A dissolute solution? Absolutely.
But paranoia sees emergence
Into metanoia in sane convergence
Resurgence of urgency is an enemy to urchins
Michael Marchese Aug 2018
And it’s on to the genocide
After you labeled me
Branded, enslaved me
Then as a beast, stabled me
Tabled my questions
And grievances then
Made me feel I was less
Than a man among men
When some semblance of freedom
Was finally reached
You just kicked down the doors
As our homelands were breached
And then preached your divine
Racial right to rule,
Hatred fuel speech
Then you slaughtered my people
In droves
As was shown
To the rest of the world
A facade
Mockery history
As it added more jobs
To polluted and muted
Vox populi rooted
In fear that their name
Is the next new recruited
To die by the bullet
The blade or the bang
Or the furnace forged famine’s
Frail hope hunger pang
Chapter 5: God Country And Family

God, Country, and Family were the cherished priorities that people sacrificed for and the essence of what made us great as a nation. Based on a strong moral code, developed from deeply held religious and/or ethical beliefs, many Americans put their individual family’s welfare second, as they marched off to war in defense of their country.  Was there politics involved in these wars? Absolutely!  All wars are fought, at least in part, due to political differences.  Not fighting these wars, because you disagreed with the politics of the time, would have resulted in a fundamentally different America than the one we live in today — if an America at all.

From the Revolutionary War onward, men, and in many cases women, dropped their hammers and sewing needles, put down their ploughs, stabled their horses, and answered the buglers call to defend all that was dear.  They were proud and willing to do this because the bigger picture was apparent, a picture that took precedence over their own individual well being.

Today, the bigger picture stares back at us from the mirrors we gaze into, reflecting false and hollow images of what we’ve become.  What we used to be as individuals was always reflected and then magnified in who we were as a nation, our individual strength truly manifested in our service to something greater.

                       Something Greater Than Just Ourselves

It was this belief in something greater that drove us to create the true ‘Miracles’ of the past 250 years. These Miracles of science, manufacturing, art, and technology were never seen before. They became the mainstays of American life and propelled America to its leadership position in the free world, a position we are fighting to hold onto today.  Guaranteed by our Constitution and Bill of Rights …  freedom in America was the right of each, and every, individual citizen. It was the source of our national pride, and if called upon, we would have died to defend it.

If you had talked to a man who worked on Hoover Dam, or the Great Northern Pacific Railroad, you would had heard the pride in his voice.  This pride stemmed from having been part of something so grand and something so much greater than he would have ever been able to accomplish on his own. These are just two examples of what made America great and pushed her to the forefront as the envy of all the world.

The Chinese stood shoulder to shoulder with the Irish, pick axes in their hands, as the great rails were laid down pointing westward toward new and greater prosperity.  Among the many nationalities that accomplished these great things, there were always differences and petty squabbles — and the occasional altercation … but the big picture was always in focus.  It was the big picture that they agreed upon because that’s what was most important.  The big picture would carry them together to places they could never travel to alone, and on this they always agreed.

                        The Big Picture Was Most Important

By putting their personal disagreements aside, they moved mountains, laid rails, built bridges, and dammed rivers.  Unfortunately, many died in the building of America, but it did not stop the new volunteers from signing on.  There was something being done here that had never been done before.  Setting your past lineage, cultural differences, and religious beliefs aside, to work together on something this special, was a small price to pay.  It was a small price to pay for becoming — truly American!                                        

American, not just in name — as many are today —but American in the deepest parts of who you really were and who you wanted your children to be.  Out of this commitment came men like Nathan Hale who spoke these immortal words on September 22, 1776 …

     “I Only Regret That I Have But One Life To Lose For My Country “


Hale’s belief in the future of America was a ‘rallying cry’ uniting the strength of the individual with the purpose and collective will of the nation.

                        Where Is That Unity Of Will Today?




Chapter 6:  The *** That Melted

As a young boy, I lived in a row home in a working-class neighborhood.  The smells and sounds coming from each house were different, but the laughter and good will were the same … and they were shared among all. When together at a barbecue, holiday party, or family celebration, or even while waiting for the bus to go to work, their laughter was infectious.  

Mothers walked their young children to the small parochial school that many of us attended.  As they walked together, you could hear in the intensity of the many accented languages a fervent hope. It was a hope that it would be their son or daughter who would one day grow up and be President of this great land. And if not President, someone in whom they could truly be proud, and someone who would make a difference.  They were willing to put their own personal interests aside and sacrifice for this, many doing without so that their children could have, and experience, the things that would light their way to a brighter future.

                               The Fathers Did The Same

Every morning, after they said goodbye to their children at school, they knew they had just dropped them off at the doorway to a world that was better than any that they, or their parents, or grandparents, had known.

Many of our parents and grandparents spoke different languages, ate different foods, and sang and danced to their own kinds of music. These differences were superficial because one thing was crystal clear growing up in my neighborhood and that was nothing … N-O-T-H-I-N-G was more important than being a good and loyal citizen to a country that had given you so much.  If you ever were caught dis-respecting the flag or your elected leaders, you could count on being reprimanded by everyone, and that reprimand would probably be delivered in five different languages.

                       But The Meaning Was Always The Same

My first grade Nun (and school principal) was Sister Rita Marie.  Sister Rita Marie saw neither the color, the nationality, nor the relative wealth of any of her students. All the good Sister saw was ‘raw possibility!’  It was the innate potential within each of her students that Sister Rita Marie first saw, and it was this potential that defined and unified us as a class as we progressed from grades 1st through 8th.  I’m sure it was by a great design that no Nun ever had a last name. You could only guess at her nationality if she had a name like Sister Peter Mary or Sister Clara Agnes.

Our days in Catholic School always started in front of the American Flag, with our hands over our hearts, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Religion was next and that meant studying the Baltimore Catechism. Within its pages were all the lessons that one needed to learn to live a good and upstanding life.  Sister Rita Marie never failed to end the morning’s religion class without a morality lesson, one that would apply to our real world outside of school, and one that our parents had probably learned some twenty or thirty years earlier.

                             And Often From The Same Nun

Religion class would set the tone and get our young minds right for the arithmetic, english, phonics, and civics lessons that would follow later in the day.  We didn’t always behave, but we did agree on what was right and what was wrong.  We knew this because we had a devoted teacher who not only taught these principles but lived them in front of us in her daily life.  How I wish I could have just one more morning with Sister Rita Marie and be able to ‘film’ her magic and be able to spread it over the confusion that involves much of our educational practices today.

                            I’d Also Like To Thank Her Again

The basics were always stressed in her class over the fringy and sometimes transient occurrences that only served to mislead and confuse.  She also explained that there was a ‘nature of goodness’ that ran through all of us, and she knew that in her heart because inside we were all the same …                      

The thing that my small Catholic School (St Thomas Of Villanova) shared with my neighborhood was that it too was a ‘Melting ***.’  It was a melting *** of the differences that only served to divide us.  We learned early and well that respect for our elders, country, and especially ourselves, was a fundamental building block for all future success.

Two plus two really was four. And if you sat up straight with good posture at your desk you would see the truth, and the truth involved knowing that lying and cheating were always wrong, no exceptions! On this we all agreed.

                                         No Exceptions!  

The moral principles we learned in school were not only necessary for us to be good citizens, but were also a great source of comfort in a world that could be confusing to a young child.  No maybe this, or maybe that, Sister Rita Marie was emphatic with her teaching, and there was something inside all of us telling ourselves that she was right.  We learned early that all of life’s actions come with consequences, and these consequences can either be good or bad depending on which path you choose.  Many a boy thought he got away with, or pulled something over on the Nun, only to have his hand slapped by her ruler as she walked down his row of desks reading from her text.  She did this normally without even looking up.
                                
These lessons were constantly reinforced because it was upon these principles that the greatness of America and the salvation of our souls would depend.  We also learned that the seemingly little things were not always little, and what appeared big and overwhelming was often an imposter.  Most importantly, we learned that what might be impossible for us individually to accomplish, we could almost always attain together.

                                       … together!

We had no individual sports in my school, everything was as a team.  It was in the magic of playing together as a team that this message of what’s truly possible was best taught.  Sister Rita Marie constantly reminded us that there was a ‘heritage’ involved in our very existence traveling back through our parents, grandparents, and great grandparents ad infinitum.  This heritage was ours, and ours alone, and was to be respected and revered.  It could also be shared and often was. One of the boys in my class had a father who had played Major League Baseball.  Mr. Duffy shared his experiences growing up and progressing through the minor leagues and into the BIGS many times with us. We all felt connected and proud based on what he shared, and we also felt closer to each other as a result.

The worst offense you could ever commit was to bring dishonor or shame upon the reputation and good name of your family.  You might not be wealthy in a material sense, but the reputation of each family was sacred and was treated as such. What started as a concern for the reputation of your family was transferred to your friends, your team, your neighborhood, and your school.  You knew this was of value because everyone in your world from the shop keeper to the policeman reinforced it every time you saw them.   The things that were accepted, or not accepted, were either accepted by none, or accepted by all.  

      What Values Can We All Agree Upon And Hold Dear Today?

As we progressed through the grades, the differences in each of us not only faded but became integrated into everyone else.  Every kid learned at least a few words in Italian from Mr. D’Angelo, and every mother in the neighborhood wanted to be able to bake as well as Mrs. Bonds. Mrs. Bonds was French, and Mr. Bonds had met her while in the Army during WW2 when the G.I.’s liberated Paris in August of 1944.  She could bake and she could sing.  We all loved her, as she would prance around her kitchen in her fancy hand made aprons singing French folk songs. She would wink and call each of us boys or girls ‘Mon or Ma Cherie’ or ‘Mon Ami’ or ‘Mon Amie’ as the incredible smells of her baking took over the neighborhood.

The melting *** had another advantage in that it happened without our noticing it.  We seamlessly learned at a visceral grass roots level that we were all the same.  We believed in, and wanted, the same things, and we were willing to work together to get there.  After all, with great examples to follow like Sister Rita Marie … how could we fail?

                Where Is That Leadership And Unity Of Purpose Today?

— The End —