soft silver lanolin
i am returned unto this hour
the voyage over
the futile quest
the world which would not change
whispers a name
proceed with caution
objects appear in mirrors momentarily
athene comes to me in dream
as the morning words are gone
the sails blow slack
while line tautens in the sea
some deep monster has taken up my hook
no the giants are all storied
the virgins in sin all oiled
roll out my barrel of barbaric barbs
the men plot mutiny
i hear them in their graves ever softly prosper
those long haired boys with their fine white muscles
slayers of women
wine stagger straddle loot loop strip ram stealer lamb
the wolves in the pines
the lions down in nubia and namibia
the ships becalmed in distant triangle
i speak atlantis name in solemnity though i be drunk on sea
sea fills my lungs my halls my walls my institutes and brothels
sea in my heart in my market place sea in my laboratories
sea in my my observatories
all i see is sea
we are the ones outside and all divided
i smoke up a hags philtre
i go down to underworld on my knees on my yellow belly
i go down through the chasmic crack into sheer black
no light no nothing for your hero o you should weep
hand me my sword i scream out
my kingly voice now an echo of itself
sounding old and phlegmy in this vacuum of nothing
i stumble round trying to grasp my eel like enemies
vicious vipers gnaw gnaw gnaw
there is nothing there
i rip at my flesh where the itch is burnt
the sun beats down my sandals have fallen asunder
over exposed and underdone
the mutineers reveal themselves
armed with spears and clubs
you scurvy fucking rotten lowlife sons of bitches!
i lunge baby i lunge
my scimitar sings in the air as i leap and whoop
just like the old days baby when i was young again
but no
i am mistaken
there is no enemy
there is no scenery
there is no snow and no greenery
my ship is wrecked
the sharks even recoil in horror
my anchor wrapped around gibraltar
crew carousing in the bars along the styx
a whole in the net the minnow tore
doomed to remember too late
goddamn surgeon stitched me up
here drink this he said handing me wine
i howled as the needle flooded my head
ajax white must have got it wrong
the hyperborean stuff jetstreaming into aetherea
steady as she goes i bellowed through the storm
there was no storm
the ship danced across a glittering sea of tiny scales
our holds groaned with plundered booty
the cream of olympus gushes in thy soup
as captain as hero i remained aloof
the men crazed on mermaid
i studied the stars that rushed through the skies
i conquered my urges by indulging my selves
weary finally
ashore washed up
i lay in tidal pools with all my gold
unspent
nothing seems to keep me awake
night hovers above as if awaiting instruction
the bed room is darkening warm
along the briefest corridor
a door opens into a roof
in the silence a hand touches your face
you never know who it is
you never know who it is
17 comments:
BEAUTIFUL.
i just flew in from athens ..and boy are my alms tired
Heady stuff, SK. We Aeolians listen, enthralled.
Fair winds to you,
L.
hey....
it's all spilling out now!
oddly: you say, 'the world which would not change'
wev'e just called the first 'the failed' album 'the whole world changed'
a copy will be in your mits soon(and i think may pleasantly suprise you.)
do take a couple of days out of it all though eh steve?
perhaps let mr cain's new tunes rattle around that big olde brain'o'yours yes?
Our hero like Prometheus has just stolen something
from the gods and is realizing his myth (what's your
myth baby?). Great stories are created by powerful and mysterious inner processes; they are designed to guide us to our full potential and are vital to our well being.
My past lives and stories (myths) come back to haunt me occasionally too. Thanks to our Atlantean or Hyperborean friend Steve-O and what he shares with us.
ren
you have such a gift with words... i loved that...
A
xo
great stuff sk. loved it.
Beautifully poetic and so evocative of the mysterious ocean. I love the image most of all...pearlescent...
Greece is sinking........
You are not in the right place.
Love this. Thanks Steve.
Silence can be golden, but certainly, most definitely, NOT in your case xxx
Well,
“Privilege on privilege,
An unwanted discovery…”
Fall asleep not under some rotting stern, dear sir.
I would hope that Hera has more plans for you than that!
Argo, ergo…
We all struggle like fools, with our respective junk and jewels, right?
Anyway…
Telepathine.
It does hold many answers…beyond more wine and gold.
Please be well!
Peace.
G
BTW: Your Seattle show filled the cup in spectacular fashion. Thank you!
our country has no prime minister.. I'm nursing in the most deprived place in scotland I mean some mums have real difficulty even making a bond with thier babies. some days I even forget the wisdom of Florian Trout..So rejuvinating poems such as these do not go unappreciated.
Have you seen Clash Of The Titans yet? The Underworld scenes are fantastic with the gorgon, Medusa, ssssslithering about turning men into ssssstone, u should check it out on the big screen in 3D, I think you'll enjoy it:)
Have a nice day,
love Amanda
I just returned from a trip to the Underworld to visit Hecate myself.....quite the journey indeed. I wish I would have found Steve disquised as a greek god there...I would have had a total change of plans on how to entertain myself.....hmmm.
I'm still trying to figure out whether this creeps me out or makes me sad. The last bit especially.
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