Tree shelving

Blinkie.

1.

Her dark eyes speak of a deep madness

That fulfills itself through burning lust;

Breaking free from a painful sadness,

Their inner nature which desperately must

Unite the elements until reduced to dust

When only true feelings survive this plain;

Love’s essence she carries on her bust

Beyond the trappings of mortal strain,

Idealic beauty leads to passions insane.

2.

Like a playful child of the night

She brings out the best in his being;

Where sweet ecstasy takes soaring flight

Above past woes from them freeing

The love lorn spirit inside awakening

A new dawn with flowering desire;

Full of wanton need and longing,

Those passions set alight, on fire

Taking them, away from the depths, ever higher.

3.

Her breath beguiles an innocent air,

Soft flowing hair in the breeze;

Of love’s fond caresses she takes her share,

Which none but Venus would deem to seize,

Strokes that aim to passionately please

And gently warm the erratic beats

Of a heart thawing from a deep freeze;

Finding fertile ground in loving treats,

Sheer joy brought through amorous feats.

4.

Like a frightful dealer in souls’ delights

She steals the heart of folly’s nerves;

The battle of sexes serenely fights

Its war against unimpassioned births;

Loyal romance she alone serves

The goddess who rewards all open deeds;

Giving what beauty truly deserves,

Day by day delightfully sowing seeds

Of future harmony wherever it leads.

The Pleasant Deception.

Listen to the heartbeat of the earth,

To put out the sun at will,

Enjoy the cruelty of your eyes,

To see by the soft gleam of the lightning,

Search the searchlights of night's brain,

Shadows in flight are left to the seas.

Pull them to pieces,

It's all just for show,

You can't go on leave,

No eternally no,

Truth's not for us,

Oh so high,

Merely a failure in the use of the lie.

Acceptance of the deed,

We'll never see our inherent need,

Of a self deceptive and a sickly creed,

We'll never see our inherent greed.

Appearance of the morbid, mindless cheerfulness,

Just modest mitigation of the mind.

Viracocha.

Kon Tiki Viracocha.

I.
Hear we of imminently needed change,

Climactic battle & enduring strife,

World weary citizens of an age

Fed up with such a struggle for life

Precariously balanced on the edge of a knife,

Knowing not from whence come new ways,

Old orders out of touch where civil strife is rife,

Holding back the future of different days,

The people will be kept no more in a dark haze.

II.
The time is always now: when to act

Yet with a sense of urgency, we hope

To bring about the shift, make it fact

Taking no notice of wretched lies spoke

To keep us dependent on a cruel joke,

Preventing potential from being realized,

Another chapter long should have been wrote,

No economic solution can be prized,

At the cost of true humanity, ignored & despised.

III.
See now what days of light

Are brought forth when we think

The limits of the past left to the night,

At the moment we here are on the brink

Of finding our first clear minded sight

Beyond the trappings of wrong or right,

A new age can lift us further still,

Self knowing will take us to that height,

Consciously ascending by force of will,

Possibilities with which our hearts we fill.

IV.
Out from the lake come ye hence,

To partake of servile days no more,

Titicaca thy dwelling place immense,

Back to the land of men, come to the fore

Where decadent rulers little know what’s in store

For them and theirs, in these times

The bearded civilizer of ancient folklore

Stands amongst us, his hour chimes,

Setting to right centuries of accepted crimes.

V.
Viracocha, not a god as once told,

Yet a hero of the populace was he

A figure in a tight garment of white & gold,

Who cometh forth to remind us that we could be

More than mere beasts, creatively free,

Seeing as we are not in the end of days,

But before a new direction we agree

That if you set a new path, it pays

To follow that which thy heart inside says.

VI.
Residing in the long abandoned remains

Of Tiawanaku’s forfeited greatness,

A land casting a shadow on former pains,

The loss of history left memoryless,

Prompting the inner search upon us to press,

Finding solace in an ancient message

Far from materiality, we now digress

Delving deeper into an unspoken language,

A fractured aeon lost to an archaic past age.

VII.
Emerging from the lake with the sun’s rays,

Upon a savage earth, bearing down,

Any such one seemeth to pave new ways

Towards a higher state for the city or town,

And to new ways we’ll gradually come round,

Accepting the wisdom of a new word,

Despite the old order’s spiteful frown,

The gentle teacher’s thoughts are heard,

Knowledge given wings akin to a bird.

VIII.
The bloody rituals of carnivorous meals,

All grow to despise that which they once ate,

The folly of a primitive group that feels

The need to deny their natural state,

Keeping them fixed on base things not great,

Enlightened beings move far beyond,

The trappings of local ignorance & hate,

The old asked only to react & respond,

Rather than finding that for which all are truly fond.

IX.
Venturing forth through Cuzco’s valley,

Viracocha found the fertile ground

Where crude building blocks lay

And so could be reset, turned right around,

Where now Saqsayhuaman’s temple is found

Our testimony to that earliest time,

Before the Inca’s panpipe was ever to sound,

When spirited man still stood in his prime,

From whence came this sorry state of decline?

X.
As the Milky Way’s void aligns itself

With our father the sun on high,

Saturn & Jupiter also bring us health,

Their Andean counterparts also lie

At the heart of new ideals, we’ll try

To bring out the best in our nature,

As the cosmic Pachakuti lights up the sky

On the final solstice of rupture

The overturning of space/time’s sacred architecture.

Numidia.

“urbem venalem et mature perituram, si emptorem invenerit.” *

I.

Old father Herodotus once told us

How Libya came by its name

And was divided along the shores of lake Tritonis

The land of lotus eaters he did claim

The western part since then became

A land of eager sedentary farmers

While that of the east was the fame

Of nordic shepherds the first beginners

Of Numidian virtues in attesting sinners.

II.

A warlike people may agree

To follow the whims of philosopher kings

When little the mind attempts to free

Those pursuits of feuding nations brings

Calamity held off birth pangs and stings

Of harsh measures needed to promote

A wholesome growth for the future flings

Speak not of servitude beneath the rote

Client nations held in line by the throat.

III.

The vast terrain of Libya has seen 

Many a despot keen to hold a tight grip

On power, unworthy by fine glossed sheen

Media blackouts lead senators to flick

Casually through dossiers, intervention a trip

Of light hearted scrutiny simply observing

The collapse of a nation, sand, dust and brick

Leaving to fate victims undeserving

By a megalomaniac’s self preserving.

IV.

Sallust tells us how Jugurtha came once 

To power in the way which others now try

Rome relinquished him of that bunce

Replacing him with someone else who’d comply

With the wants of the empire and not deny

Birthright but a means so little regarded

Forty years of longing with an impatient sigh

Turns to civil strife heavily bombarded

By inertia’s force defiantly guarded.

V.

Libyan plains dissimilar to her neighbour

Easily split into east and west

Rebels bring liberation to their honour

Against such odds doing their best

To hold the line at the behest

Of those who seek but modest gains

Civil strife brings woes to those oppressed

Desires for the slackening of chains

Finding release from whom over them reigns.

VI.

Not always inevitable if avoided

Before the fall comes pride

Within their self image still wanted

The proud inherit reasons which abide

Yet oft based on former virtue beside

Of which our sons make good use

Licentious excesses usually hide

Beneath the surface ethics become loose

Excuses for rhetorical sophistic abuse.

*King Jugurtha famously described Rome’s weakness to bribes by saying:

“A city for sale is doomed to quick destruction, if it should find a buyer.”

Graecia.

1.

Let present day fancies tell proud story, 

   Days of yore fond embattled angst, 

   Of olden times regaled in glory, 

   Far-sighted Aegean heroes glanced, 

   Heroines enchanting beauty danced, 

   Feelings full of another moral age, 

   Against our own narrowly distanced, 

   High-minded decadence suffuses rage,

Undignified rantings provoke us! Turn the page!

2.

These times of plenty tempt us to squander

   What the wise would so gladly put to use,

   Fortune’s shadow oft’ leads minds to wander

   And power’s shallow willingness abuse,

   The amorous contented fit to lose

   Sight of all that once felt and seemed mighty,

   Overarching hierarchies fall prey, whose

   Vision sees beyond local sovereignty, 

Leads former truth into endless calamity.

3.

Frail uncertainty of future life, 

   Has no bearing on an opponents fight, 

   Many noble souls’ unrepenting strife, 

   Each attempt descends into darkest night, 

   Every free spirit enchained, denied sight,

   Of passions, took us away from that bond,

   Servitude has known not of wrong or right,

   Deep embittered patience still remained fond, 

For conceptual beauty! We forever longed!

4.

Then as now stumbling through an era, 

   Eventually to go by the name, 

   A classical age, Apollo’s lyre, 

   Or affinities holding true, the same, 

   Reminiscences, most have always been tame

   Followers, few deserve remembrance, 

   Those who invent another type of game, 

   Set the dice rolling until decadence, 

Misuse cultural riches through fat opulence!

5.

All institutions plagiarize anew, 

   Give ethical clarity, sense denied,

   The family where sons & daughters grew, 

   Was founded on a stone deep red blood dyed, 

   Against the instincts obligingly lied, 

   Suit propriety, avoid provocation, 

   True loves passion, forgotten, pushed aside, 

   Deadly union, honour’s destitution, 

Mutual wealth poached into cold extinction!

6.

Our world is abound with divine pretenses, 

   That have always sought to hold their harsh sway, 

   Divide unequally, raising fences, 

   To show who is banished and who can stay, 

   Invoking difference between those who’d say,

   That we have no quarrel with each other, no!

   Rather they would try to keep us at bay, 

   Final indictment their weak powers show, 

Lofty in abundance! Yet spiritually low!

7.

High-minded princes, bravery’s fountain, 

   Not always the case we see poets told,

   Men suspicious, unbelieving, doubting, 

   Mythology cut off in days of old, 

   The relevance that such tales should hold, 

   Over disparity of meager ways,

   Not caring for eloquence unless sold,

   Something fit to wile away idle days,

The genius amongst us grudgingly displays!

8.

The now ruined city of Mycenae

   Was once founded by Perseus of fame, 

   Who rode the wingèd horse elegantly

   And the snakes of Medusa’s hair did tame, 

   He brought low the Kraken, that very same

   Threat to Andromeda, African bride, 

   Whose former suitor he was forced to maim,

   Only the hauntiness of such Greek pride, 

Could indulge romantic rivalry to be set aside.

9.

The house of Perseus soon did give way

   To Atreus’ like all dynasties, 

   That hardly can last when led far astray,

   Power always needs must feign niceties, 

   Lest people below test its frailties

   And dare to shed the blood thought such a crime, 

   Only the lofty insecurities, 

   Who consider their problems more sublime, 

And for the angst of the many? Haven’t the time!

10.

Kings can be remembered by words & deeds, 

   And Atreus as we know followed suit, 

   Devious butchery, the path to greed’s

   Mad craving, the state coffers he did loot, 

   While holding opinion beneath his boot, 

   Fathered two young sons who’d even outdo

   His own despicable vice, a deep root

   Of wretched corruption had therein grew, 

Agamemnon & Menelaus, they the two.

11.

Brothers looking to further their domains, 

   Marry sisters equal in chastity,

   One rules Mycenae, one in Sparta reigns, 

   Perfect vision of royal harmony, 

   Set aloof to an orphic symphony,

   Till marital discord of course results

   In husband’s scorn! Resort to armoury, 

   Harsh bronze, the brutal payback for insults,

Of Paris, Helen & Aphrodite’s gentle cults.

12.

Hardly impractical Helen once back

   In her place at Menelaus’ side, 

   Set to make up for all the former lack

   Of love he’d had, his comrades who’d died

   Below the walls of Troy and supplied

   A metaphor of frustrated desire,

   Helen ever the seductive queen lied,

   And won over his hapless unquenched fire,

Weaving her way, exulting him all the higher.

13.

There is a rupture, a moment of bleak

   Empty wilderness a time lost to all, 

   Before whence all idealists did seek,

   To test their skills unprepared for the fall,

   The house of old Mycenae’s blood drenched hall,

   Familiar bonds not always so dear,

   A king though in stature may be quite tall,

   Orestes’ doom, to complacently hear,

Furies’ cry for lifeblood, his lineage clear.

14.

Tell me how could any such Delphic bard,

   Make song of sparse eons’ austerity?

   When even muses themselves find it hard,

   The act of fine vocal dexterity?

   Long gone are days of kind sincerity,

   A feature so common among equals, 

   Fully knowing harsh pending levity,

   That weight of a Bronze age that now appalls,

The pending curtain call which upon greatness falls.

15.

Orestes, son of family dispute, 

   To whom it fell the burden of vengeance,

   Against his own kindred, to raise his boot,

   Blot out the life that gave him essence,

   Electra too, in his sister’s presence,

   Brought down retribution on his own head,

   Furies sought unremitting repentance, 

   They drove him forth to Athens, where it’s said,

Trial by reason! Passions soothed and put to bed!

16.

Barely come of age, the soft hairy down

   Of his chin still smooth, quite easily seen,

   Such youth commits matricide for the crown,

   For Clytemnestra’s end he was too keen,

   The hot-headed impatience of a teen,

   Brought about further dynastic shift,

   She having been in turn also too mean,

   Orestes merely repeating to lift

The knife by which his father too was set adrift.

17.

Hardly avoidable his destiny,

   Punish a mother of so little love,

   For a husband long lost at war away,

   Agamemnon returning felt her shove

   His war weary personage from above,

   Down into Hades’ waters thereabout,

   Polluted bloodshed the peace of a dove,

   Long since denied during Troy’s tragic rout,

Likewise, nobody cared for his own final shout.

18.

Despite his depravity, such an act,

   The duty of honour should deserve praise,

   To avenge a father who but lacked,

   Nothing to a son which should amaze,

   Agamemnon’s vengeance he obeys,

   A brother & sister seem justified,

   Forgetting that father’s very own craze,

   Iphigenia, their sibling once sighed,

Ritual sacrifice! The Greek cause obliged!

19.

What a farce tragic theatre has but made

   Epic myth set to vulgar applause, 

   Degrading stories, celebrities played

   Any rendering true or not to laws

   Of traditional dogma flouting flaws, 

   Contemporary adaptions, no respect

   For source material. Morals & mores 

   Left dull and lifeless, fully inept,

Devoid of content, entertainment we accept.

20.

Greek tragedians were as bad as any,

   Tinkering with myth to follow their whim,

   Iphigenia found alive! Many

   Plainly thought what’s the point of such a hymn?

   If back from the dead, that land of the dim, 

   Anyone comes, fitting plots make a mess, 

   She turned up in Taurus or so they sing, 

   What enmity! For her sake, bitterness

Had bled! Generations of pointless prolonged stress!

21.

Yet to all things soon come a time of peace, 

   Or stagnation whatever you’d call it,

   Times of imagination came to cease, 

   Stories of grandure no longer seemed fit,

   Tales of valour, strength, iron & grit, 

   Gave way to a dark age with nought to tell, 

   Orestes’ legacy obscurely lit, 

   Life lived beyond its means may often knell

Decline from the heights into ignorance and hell.

22.

Helen, let’s not forget, had a daughter, 

   By Menelaus before having fled,

   Hermione for many a winter, 

   While her parents’ quarrel at Troy bled,

   Waited. Euripides’ passion has said,

   That the girl grew refined yet lecherous,

   Neoptolemus fought for her soft bed,

   Against Orestes for the dangerous

Bride. Fitting prize for the cunningly murderous!

23.

Neoptolemus, that son to surpass

   Exploits of his father Lord of the dead,

   Swift footed Achilles, yes, he the mass

   Murderer who to hungry hounds had fed,

   Priam’s son Hector, the one who had led, 

   Troy’s only hope, defiance resistant,

   The son won Andromache who still shed

   Tears for fine Hector, her husband distant,

Indulging Neoptolemus not an instant.

24.

He was such a match for his father plus,

   The same instinct for ruthless savagery,

   He also goes by the name of Pyrrhus,

   Shorter an appellation, you’ll agree, 

   Than Neoptolemus, I’m sure you’ll see, 

   It’s intolerable to use again,

   Too many syllables! Bad poetry!

   Half a line gone, if you count up to ten, 

A scribe has got to limit the use of his pen.

25.

Well Hermione like I was saying

   Wasn’t too pleased by the sordid idea, 

   Of a rival, Pyrrhus’ heart straying, 

   She was quite happy to stand by and cheer, 

   As Pyrrhus fought Orestes, we now hear,

   For her own love! Yes, those men can sweat!

   But against a slave, Andromache dear,

   She saw nothing more than a foreign threat,

Compassion for the vanquished unlearnt as of yet.

26.

All this envy though soon came to nothing, 

   It’s often the case in confusing myths,

   Grandiloquence we find somehow soothing, 

   Just as we gossip over lovers’ tiffs,

   So, what happened next? There are many ifs,

   Ancient sources are always vague and sparse, 

   History is full of bores squares & stiffs, 

   Repeating, reliving the same old farce,

At least here you’ve got the plain original dance!

27.

There’s one thing of which we can be sure,

   Pyrrhus made his way to the Delphic shrine,

   Above Mount Parnassus, below azure

   Skies of central Greece, now in sad decline,

   But then in its heyday, high in its prime,

   There by Apollo’s columns of marble,

   Doric in stature and encased in lime,

   The stones by which Orestes would gamble,

Hermione’s hand in open bloody battle.

28.

Here wanton poets really meet their test,

   Gore soaked stanzas, not for the faint-hearted!

   Yet tragedy puts action off stage, lest

   Crowds listened as eloquence departed,

   Maybe that’s why I just can’t get started,

   On unavoidable confrontation,

   The clash of Bronze, tell me! Who’ll be martyred?

   Warriors without ill hesitation,

Lovers of these fine arts would show indignation.

29.

Off with Hermione, his promised wife,

   Hardly worth repeating, Orestes won,

   Pyrrhus, like father, threw away his life,

   He’d fought desperately, yet all he’d done,

   Was upset Apollo, spoil his fun,

   Who’d favoured Orestes long since the days,

   When he’d begged sanctuary on the run

   For murdering his mother in a craze,

Thus the archer god shows benignity, Homer says.

30.

After his ordeals Orestes went

   Back to his homeland pacified and won,

   Ruled over his people, a landed gent, 

   Accepting his mastery he’d begun

   To rule by decree and to blindly shun,

   The needs of a people little heeded, 

   He hired politicians who then spun,

   Any old mantra that kept motives hid,

Ignoring what poverty and hunger pleaded.

31.

In little time the whole Peloponnese 

   Was united, bowing down at his feet,

   Mycenae flourished in a time of ease, 

   Agamemnon’s son did grander a feat,

   Than in those old times of his father’s seat, 

   All wasted on foreign intervention

   Wars were won, but bringing homebound defeat,

   People neglected of education,

Invest not in the future but segregation.

32.

Rebellious streak fiercely indignant,

   The Greeks have had since those forgotten days,

   Filled their streets with oratory and chant,

   They forgive little of abusive ways,

   A spirit hardly willing, never pays

   To passively look on as the corrupt, 

   Try their tricks, saying it’s only a phase,

   Squeeze the economy! Ruin, disrupt,

Our swindled hopes brought to an end abrupt!

33.

Untolerated a tyrant returns

   In yet another form more sleekly clad,

   With ways to pilfer what the worker earns, 

   Always devious, malicious and glad,

   Rejoicing to take away all we had,

   While daring to say it’s his divine right,

   Only common people recognise bad,

   But never cease to dream! What’s far from sight?

Never lower their heads nor wallow in their plight!