Open To Interpretation
Robert Graves
So, so
You were successful
And left us for that other trench
And now you want to come back.
Not many successful tales
Have that plot,
But we'll make room
And think of something
And send you back
Where you now belong.
Tulips
So, so
We're killing someone over there
Everyday
With bombs and bullets
Made in the USA
And you want to go on and on
With these solemn
Medal bedecked memorials.
Those flowers wilt in a day.
Over there they tiptoe through
Those metallic tulips
Everyday.
Decisions Decisions
So so
You think it's right
You think it's wrong
You think it's weak
You think it's strong
Tell me
When the bullets whiz by my ears
What you decide
If it won't take too long.
DolphinWords
Notes: Robert Graves...reference Goodbye To All That by Robert Graves, his personal tale of WW1...that title, I think, is from an old Greek tragedy, the one with the watch towers on mountain tops from Troy to Greece lighting their signaling bonfires to report the victory at Troy...the first soldier to report at Agamemnon's palace goes on about things, and in passing says, 'goodbye to all that'...the ten year siege of Troy...I happened on that in a translation I haven't again happened on!...anyway, it's 11/11/11 again...Decisions Decisions...generic from my generation's era...and still the case for current it seems...Tulip...now, this one is a curio!...'flowers wilt' is hackneyed, a low hanging conceit, but I wanted to get to a 'flower' that doesn't wilt, namely the bombs and bullets...and that old song 'Tiptoe through the Tulips' came to mind...kind of hoped it was WW1 era song...Tiny Tim certainly gave it that old time recording tinny sound, but no, composed in 1929...anyway, 'tulip' for the bombs and bullets is apt!...the flower buds look a bit like a hand grenade, and the underground bulbs are like land mines, which is a fit with tip toeing...normally I wouldn't lay this all out, but studying out tulips, which I did before for another poem, it's sacred to some goddess...brb...oh, I cant recall what I was on about before with tulips...it's in the notes for a poem back their a ways...anyway, it is native to Turkey and the Middle East (that post about the Turkish national park has it...Mount Sipylus and Cyble)...anyway, tulips are native to, as it happens, those places currently in conflict, from Turkey and the Middle East, all the way over to the Central Asian borders with China...maybe it's a climate thing!...there's a lot of symbolism to tulips, most of it romantic, but it appears on Iran's current flag in an abstract script that translates out as the name of God in the shape of a tulip...Tulips too are Iran's mention of fallen soldiers who defended Iran, their martyrs...and so tulips have a laden meaning to many...curiously, the Iranian flag is a tricolor...
quote
A tricolour is a type of flag or banner design with a triband design which originated in the 16th century as a symbol of republicanism, liberty or indeed revolution.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tricolour_(flag)
unquote
...our flag is a tricolor...anyway, looking at the little location map of Iran at the wiki page, I took note of the big body of water to the east of the Black Sea...what's that?...the Caspian Sea...Central Asia is just like out of sight out of mind...but I've been there before in a study...in the ramp up to the first gulf war there was some nervousness about how the Russians would respond...Iraq was arms trading ally...all those tanks we blew up were Russian, and in a back and forth talk in a forum, it popped into my head to post, 'Beware the Caspian Gates'...notion being that any troop movements by Russia would go through the Gates to get to Iraq...that may still be a notion!...but there have been times in history when what was on the other side of the Gates, the Central Asian barbarian hordes, were a genuine fear...that's why the gates are there!...they are also known as the Gates of Alexander...it's remarkable the impression Alexander the Great left on the Persians...some of their lore has it he built the Gates, even though they predate his conquest...Gog and Magog are said to be on the other side of the Gates...just waiting...
quote
The early Muslim traditions were summarised by Zakariya al-Qazwini (d. 1283) in two popular works called the Cosmography and the Geography. Gog and Magog, he says, live near to the sea that encircles the Earth and can be counted only by God; they are only half the height of a normal man, with claws instead of nails and a hairy tail and huge hairy ears which they use as mattress and cover for sleeping.[104] They scratch at their wall each day until they almost break through, and each night God restores it, but when they do break through they will be so numerous that "their vanguard is in Syria and their rear in Khorasan".[
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gog_and_Magog
unquote
physical walls don't work too well...they keep them out, but they also keep one in...treaties and deals are the tradition...if a wall goes up between us and Mexico, treaties will come down...example: Israel and the Palestinians...but the evangelical hordes want their fight, and have their heavily made up proponents...INSIDIOUS - "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" - Music Video...eesh...
((!))
)
(
DavidDavid
Friday, November 11, 2016
Thursday, November 10, 2016
OTI:two poems and notes:11/10/16
Open To Interpretation
Second Labor
For pop Alz was a dream.
They all dream,
And we call them 'they'
As they're like children
Before they're named.
But I don't know,
Maybe he was lucid as I
And can recall each day.
Don't know,
Not a one of them has returned
To explain it.
It looks to be hell,
The continual looping
Memories repeated spinning.
Caring, I experienced what I could,
Eating sleeping existing
Beside him day after day,
Looking into the entrance
To the underworld
With its guardian,
The Lernaean Hydra.
You don't need to see this,
But Alz is like
That many headed serpent's
Heads talking all at once,
Arguing incessantly with one another,
Making no sense.
Quiet one head down
And the dragon grows another,
Maybe more.
And they are ear piercing loud.
Even when peacefully sleeping,
The afterimage of their screaming
Makes their waking a dread.
While you wait while they sleep
Maybe you sleep too
Only to hear them in your dreams,
See them in your dreams.
I still do.
Pop's one pissed off ghost,
And my clothes still soiled with
Virulent hydra blood.
You don't want to be
Too close to them
Or me.
So, So,
So, so,
Again I'm again a student
With his homework project
As again
A paper mâché volcano,
A carved balsa wood Stonehenge.
Show and tell has always
Been my favorite time,
My words alive with telling
And your eyes as well listening
For awhile
Until I see the long parade
Of my fellow students' projects
Dulls your gaze over mine.
So, so,
I show you my kids' stuff
I thought of interest
Just like back then
I'm still in school
Retelling my adventures,
But I note your own interest
Behind your eyes
Keened by your own adventures,
And for these tales of mine
You have little time.
So so
Pursuant to some future
I make my superstitious way.
You, superstitious too?
Oh, we have that in common,
Not a good sign.
DolphinWords
Notes: Second Labor...reference the second labor of Hercules, slaying of the Lernaean Hydra, the serpent/dragon with many heads...cut one off, and it grew another...Alz reference Alzheimers...I hesitate to post this one, but I realized my experience was a fit with Hercules'...I'm not Hercules!...the old myths are made much of by different interests...these interests see in them allegories...modern psychology references its diagnosis to the myths...metaphysicians see allegories of spiritual things...and scientific principled scientists see things too...there's some merit to all of them...I'm finding the old Greeks loved ambiguity...every so often they would have contests for playwrights, like the Olympics for athletes...plays were submitted, and from these a few plays were chosen, each playwright given a whole day to themselves to perform three tragedies, and a satyr play, and after the performance the judges would vote...brb...
quote
At the end of these three days a jury of ten people chosen by lot from the body of citizens chose the best choir, best actor and best author. At the end of the performances, the judges placed a tablet inscribed with the name of their choice inside an urn, after which five tablets were randomly selected. The person who received the highest amount of votes won. The winning author, actor and choir were thus selected not purely by lot, but chance did play a part.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_tragedy
unquote
That's ingenious ambiguity...almost like our having a popular vote, and an electoral college vote from the all or nothing win for each state...hmmph...one way to let the gods have a hand in things!...I've distanced myself from alz...just don't like to even to talk/think of it...or even medical things in general...which maybe doesn't help much for people who might benefit from my experiences...though in truth, the entire blog is dripping in hydra blood...hydra blood eventually does in Hercules...how'd Dante put it?...brb...
quote
Dante passes through the gate of Hell, which bears an inscription ending with the famous phrase "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate",[17] most frequently translated as "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."[
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inferno_(Dante)
unquote
I can't even read through wiki's takes on Dante...an allegorist algorithm of some sort keeps dumb bunnies like me out of that cabbage patch, which is just as well...medical books/things make me glaze over too...but on reading the wiki Dante takes, I see a segue into the So, So, s...Dante is guided by Virgil, a student with a teacher...not an unfamiliar relationship to me!...I regard everyone as my guide/teacher, always have, always will, I guess...always feel like I'm the little kid tagging along...which often leads to disappointment when the big kids ditch me!...oh, I need to do some poems about being 'ditched'!...it is just the worst...but I always look up...
quote
Today "Hydra-like problem" or "hydra" refers to a multifaceted problem that seems incapable of step-by-step solution, or to one that worsens upon conventional attempts to solve it, for example, attempts to suppress a particular piece of information resulting in it being disseminated even more widely.
http://www.mlahanas.de/Greeks/Mythology/LernaeanHydra.html
unquote
hmmph...oh!...I figured out the strange increase of pageviews...had to study this out!...in google blog editor there is a page or two that show statistics on pageviews...this has a name, Google Analytics...it is useful for those marketing their blog...for me, it's just vanity to look at it, and wonder who in the world in Sudan would happen on my blog!...and in the study, I discovered something called Referral Spam...this is when a bot finds the analytic page, and visits it...doesn't even visit the blog, just the analytic...but it leaves a pageview notation, as if it visited the blog...the purpose of this apparently is to dupe someone studying the analytics to click on the web site source, the bot's, that is funneling all the pageviews, just to see it, and so be lured to whatever the site is about...the analytics have things like what search engine and platforms viewers are reaching the blog with...this is all very dull, and now that I know where all those recent pageviews are from, I can go back to ignoring the analytics!
:)
DavidDavid
Second Labor
For pop Alz was a dream.
They all dream,
And we call them 'they'
As they're like children
Before they're named.
But I don't know,
Maybe he was lucid as I
And can recall each day.
Don't know,
Not a one of them has returned
To explain it.
It looks to be hell,
The continual looping
Memories repeated spinning.
Caring, I experienced what I could,
Eating sleeping existing
Beside him day after day,
Looking into the entrance
To the underworld
With its guardian,
The Lernaean Hydra.
You don't need to see this,
But Alz is like
That many headed serpent's
Heads talking all at once,
Arguing incessantly with one another,
Making no sense.
Quiet one head down
And the dragon grows another,
Maybe more.
And they are ear piercing loud.
Even when peacefully sleeping,
The afterimage of their screaming
Makes their waking a dread.
While you wait while they sleep
Maybe you sleep too
Only to hear them in your dreams,
See them in your dreams.
I still do.
Pop's one pissed off ghost,
And my clothes still soiled with
Virulent hydra blood.
You don't want to be
Too close to them
Or me.
So, So,
So, so,
Again I'm again a student
With his homework project
As again
A paper mâché volcano,
A carved balsa wood Stonehenge.
Show and tell has always
Been my favorite time,
My words alive with telling
And your eyes as well listening
For awhile
Until I see the long parade
Of my fellow students' projects
Dulls your gaze over mine.
So, so,
I show you my kids' stuff
I thought of interest
Just like back then
I'm still in school
Retelling my adventures,
But I note your own interest
Behind your eyes
Keened by your own adventures,
And for these tales of mine
You have little time.
So so
Pursuant to some future
I make my superstitious way.
You, superstitious too?
Oh, we have that in common,
Not a good sign.
DolphinWords
Notes: Second Labor...reference the second labor of Hercules, slaying of the Lernaean Hydra, the serpent/dragon with many heads...cut one off, and it grew another...Alz reference Alzheimers...I hesitate to post this one, but I realized my experience was a fit with Hercules'...I'm not Hercules!...the old myths are made much of by different interests...these interests see in them allegories...modern psychology references its diagnosis to the myths...metaphysicians see allegories of spiritual things...and scientific principled scientists see things too...there's some merit to all of them...I'm finding the old Greeks loved ambiguity...every so often they would have contests for playwrights, like the Olympics for athletes...plays were submitted, and from these a few plays were chosen, each playwright given a whole day to themselves to perform three tragedies, and a satyr play, and after the performance the judges would vote...brb...
quote
At the end of these three days a jury of ten people chosen by lot from the body of citizens chose the best choir, best actor and best author. At the end of the performances, the judges placed a tablet inscribed with the name of their choice inside an urn, after which five tablets were randomly selected. The person who received the highest amount of votes won. The winning author, actor and choir were thus selected not purely by lot, but chance did play a part.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_tragedy
unquote
That's ingenious ambiguity...almost like our having a popular vote, and an electoral college vote from the all or nothing win for each state...hmmph...one way to let the gods have a hand in things!...I've distanced myself from alz...just don't like to even to talk/think of it...or even medical things in general...which maybe doesn't help much for people who might benefit from my experiences...though in truth, the entire blog is dripping in hydra blood...hydra blood eventually does in Hercules...how'd Dante put it?...brb...
quote
Dante passes through the gate of Hell, which bears an inscription ending with the famous phrase "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate",[17] most frequently translated as "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."[
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inferno_(Dante)
unquote
I can't even read through wiki's takes on Dante...an allegorist algorithm of some sort keeps dumb bunnies like me out of that cabbage patch, which is just as well...medical books/things make me glaze over too...but on reading the wiki Dante takes, I see a segue into the So, So, s...Dante is guided by Virgil, a student with a teacher...not an unfamiliar relationship to me!...I regard everyone as my guide/teacher, always have, always will, I guess...always feel like I'm the little kid tagging along...which often leads to disappointment when the big kids ditch me!...oh, I need to do some poems about being 'ditched'!...it is just the worst...but I always look up...
quote
Today "Hydra-like problem" or "hydra" refers to a multifaceted problem that seems incapable of step-by-step solution, or to one that worsens upon conventional attempts to solve it, for example, attempts to suppress a particular piece of information resulting in it being disseminated even more widely.
http://www.mlahanas.de/Greeks/Mythology/LernaeanHydra.html
unquote
hmmph...oh!...I figured out the strange increase of pageviews...had to study this out!...in google blog editor there is a page or two that show statistics on pageviews...this has a name, Google Analytics...it is useful for those marketing their blog...for me, it's just vanity to look at it, and wonder who in the world in Sudan would happen on my blog!...and in the study, I discovered something called Referral Spam...this is when a bot finds the analytic page, and visits it...doesn't even visit the blog, just the analytic...but it leaves a pageview notation, as if it visited the blog...the purpose of this apparently is to dupe someone studying the analytics to click on the web site source, the bot's, that is funneling all the pageviews, just to see it, and so be lured to whatever the site is about...the analytics have things like what search engine and platforms viewers are reaching the blog with...this is all very dull, and now that I know where all those recent pageviews are from, I can go back to ignoring the analytics!
:)
DavidDavid
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
OTI:one poem, 4 emoticons, notes:11/9/16
Open To Interpretation
)!(
Our Poems
Our poems from today
I'd like to hear about
Seated across from you
At these joined together
Picnic tables in long rows.
Oh, not the ones in your books,
Keep those for the stage
And the microphone.
Quiet,
I'll listen, too, those.
Rather I'd hear
Share with you near
Our new ones from today,
Like we're playing bingo.
)-!-(
("!")
)-!-(
)
(---/'''
)---/'''
)
(
I..I..
DolphinWords
Notes: in a moment, off to OCPC's Wednesday night gathering (Orange County Poetry Club)...they all have those Creative Space Publishing books...bit jealous...my upload to CSP of The Black Deck Tales has bogged down...waiting on email confirmation from them for interior approval...meantime, I've sent it off to Thomas at OCPC through facebook messenger...that's how those books get done..so, that might work!...and I'll go no further with my own printing, and be more than content if OCPC helps me to print it...then I'll have a book too to read from!...more when I get back...bk...hmmph....tried to synopsis like ten years of Tree In Door Fauna And Flora into like five minutes for Izzy, who is Thomas' replacement as master of ceremonies tonight...maybe ten minutes...don't know that the gathered overheard me where we were in front sitting on the two chairs at the card table with the books...signups in progress for the reading...I left just as they started, and as I retreated Izzy gave me a shout out which roused the gathered to applaud...a courtesy I know...but, it was kind of like, the back and forth talking, kind of like Our Poems...anyway, came home with three more books from the card table....oh, I have one from last week too that I haven't mentioned...
A Twisted Smile by V.L.Cisneros
Human Noise by Lauren Waites
Tear Down The Wall by Poetry Club
(this one looks to be the origin of the OCPC, and dates from 2011, a combined anonymous effort by students at Saddleback College in Mission Viejo...I think)
Wall 2016
(a literary journal put out by Saddleback for students to contribute to)...oh, so I bring this up to current, the tale of blog, and I am explaining trying to make book under auspice of OCPC of The Black Deck Tales, and Izzy says she looks forward to seeing it when the book is made, and I say, yes, but, oh, I have it online, 'you can see it on your phone', but she doesn't follow things online, doesn't use computer, but I showed her this post up on my phone, by way of explanation of my web 'addiction'...her guess!...I tried to explain mediums, like painters use, watercolor, oil...hers, mine, different...on the way over I was wondering where I am most me, and where I'm not...like employed, working for someone, a company, I'm not me, very much...I'm fine here in the blog, I'm me...there are places, people, I'm with where I'm me, others not so much!...there's a poem in that to sort out!...moving everything over from the blog to recitations and publishing in books and all that, I don't know...'me' felt a bit lost walking back to Silver, my jeep!...I have an odd Wednesday routine now, which I tried to explain!...in the morning I'm at Grand Jury duty in the tall building with the eagle logo, and in the evening, just down a ways on 4th, at the 4th Street Market Place, I'm at OCPC with the skull and crossbones logo!...ral...the Market Place is very nice just to go to, eateries and sports tv and games, ping pong!...
:)
DavidDavid
)!(
Our Poems
Our poems from today
I'd like to hear about
Seated across from you
At these joined together
Picnic tables in long rows.
Oh, not the ones in your books,
Keep those for the stage
And the microphone.
Quiet,
I'll listen, too, those.
Rather I'd hear
Share with you near
Our new ones from today,
Like we're playing bingo.
)-!-(
("!")
)-!-(
)
(---/'''
)---/'''
)
(
I..I..
DolphinWords
Notes: in a moment, off to OCPC's Wednesday night gathering (Orange County Poetry Club)...they all have those Creative Space Publishing books...bit jealous...my upload to CSP of The Black Deck Tales has bogged down...waiting on email confirmation from them for interior approval...meantime, I've sent it off to Thomas at OCPC through facebook messenger...that's how those books get done..so, that might work!...and I'll go no further with my own printing, and be more than content if OCPC helps me to print it...then I'll have a book too to read from!...more when I get back...bk...hmmph....tried to synopsis like ten years of Tree In Door Fauna And Flora into like five minutes for Izzy, who is Thomas' replacement as master of ceremonies tonight...maybe ten minutes...don't know that the gathered overheard me where we were in front sitting on the two chairs at the card table with the books...signups in progress for the reading...I left just as they started, and as I retreated Izzy gave me a shout out which roused the gathered to applaud...a courtesy I know...but, it was kind of like, the back and forth talking, kind of like Our Poems...anyway, came home with three more books from the card table....oh, I have one from last week too that I haven't mentioned...
A Twisted Smile by V.L.Cisneros
Human Noise by Lauren Waites
Tear Down The Wall by Poetry Club
(this one looks to be the origin of the OCPC, and dates from 2011, a combined anonymous effort by students at Saddleback College in Mission Viejo...I think)
Wall 2016
(a literary journal put out by Saddleback for students to contribute to)...oh, so I bring this up to current, the tale of blog, and I am explaining trying to make book under auspice of OCPC of The Black Deck Tales, and Izzy says she looks forward to seeing it when the book is made, and I say, yes, but, oh, I have it online, 'you can see it on your phone', but she doesn't follow things online, doesn't use computer, but I showed her this post up on my phone, by way of explanation of my web 'addiction'...her guess!...I tried to explain mediums, like painters use, watercolor, oil...hers, mine, different...on the way over I was wondering where I am most me, and where I'm not...like employed, working for someone, a company, I'm not me, very much...I'm fine here in the blog, I'm me...there are places, people, I'm with where I'm me, others not so much!...there's a poem in that to sort out!...moving everything over from the blog to recitations and publishing in books and all that, I don't know...'me' felt a bit lost walking back to Silver, my jeep!...I have an odd Wednesday routine now, which I tried to explain!...in the morning I'm at Grand Jury duty in the tall building with the eagle logo, and in the evening, just down a ways on 4th, at the 4th Street Market Place, I'm at OCPC with the skull and crossbones logo!...ral...the Market Place is very nice just to go to, eateries and sports tv and games, ping pong!...
:)
DavidDavid
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
OTI:two poems and notes:11/8/16
Open To Interpretation
Novelists
I open a book, any book,
To see how it's done,
How novelists use so many words
To say so little,
And puzzle,
As the usual is
Few words that say so much.
Idiot
Medea and Onyx have arrived in Athens. And on a patio adjacent to Aegeus' Palace Banquet Hall, Onyx waits patient while Medea and Aegeus argue.
Aegeus
Medea, too soon
To be so round.
Medea
Where I have been
Time descends
Ascends
Awkwardly.
Aegeus
I doubt it is my son,
Rather Jason's you nourish.
Medea
No!
Aegeus
Theseus, my newly discovered son,
Who will kill you on sight,
Such is his righteous momentum
Having cleared the path to Athens
Of criminals and hateful creatures,
Warns me of your scheme,
That you would your last remaining child
Be king of Athens.
Medea
No.
Aegeus
I have no doubt.
Medea
Then doubt this,
Theseus is Poseidon's son.
Aegeus
Not so.
Medea
It is everywhere known,
Ask any god,
Aethra hard on after you slept with Poseidon.
Look for yourself,
It is Theseus exploits along the path
That bespeaks a half-god's
Godlike strengths.
Aegeus
No.
Medea
It is Theseus that would slay you
And take for himself Athens.
Aegeus
No.
Medea
You know my gifts,
As priestess of Hecate.
Beware the proffered cup
That tips your health.
Aegeus
Leave me.
Medea
Theseus comes,
I leave you to
Your convivial banquet.
Tomorrow I'll return
When you are clear eyed
Thirsty for truth,
Or sated,
Dead.
Onyx and Medea having spent the night in the outdoor Theater of Dionysius on the slopes of Athens, rest toghether on the stage, the theater empty, but early morning Athenian risers have gathered at the perimeter of the stone seating, looking on in wonderment at Black Dragon Onyx.
Medea
I don't know why I returned, Onyx.
Remind me.
Onyx
Homesick.
Medea
The father of my child is a fug head.
Onyx
Jason or Aegeus?
Medea
Aegeus, not that it matters.
Onyx
Children are children.
Medea
These empty seats suit us.
Onyx
My presents alone explains that.
Onyx roars and belches flame and black smoke. The gathered onlookers high on the slopes step back, fearful.
Medea
I can do that,
Stand and show them my stomach.
Oh, look, a young girl with a doddering elder
Wend their way though the stone seats, running to us.
How brave, how foolish.
The couple bow before Medea and Onyx.
Tutor and Nurse
Queen Medea, mistress.
Medea
My sons' tutor and nurse, Onyx!
I am so glad to see you,
I thought your lives too lost to my travail.
Nurse
By some magic, we escaped the throng,
How we can't recall,
And made our hurried way to Athens to join you,
But you have been gone.
Medea
Just so,
Though here I am.
I have another for your
Tutelage and care.
Tutor
We are your servants always
Though too
Where you are
We must be.
Medea
Yes, my tiny realm
And smallish family,
With a giant dog.
Onyx, can you bear their weight
On the long flight back?
Onyx
Easily.
Medea
First a last word.
Back at the Palace Patio, Medea leaps off Onyx, and interrupts Aegeus and Theseus who have been talking.
Medea
You are an idiot.
Aegeus
Maybe so.
Medea
Alive this morning tells everyone so.
Theseus grabs his sword to confront Onyx.
Onyx
Oh!
Medea, you promised a treasure.
Medea
I haven't forgotten, you see something?
Onyx
The sword.
Medea
Surely.
Onyx
And the sandals.
Medea
Take them.
Theseus makes bold with his sword. Onyx licks his head with flame. Theseus sits and unties his sandals, his hair smoking.
Aegeus
Leave us.
Theseus, barefoot, leaves.
Aegeus
Tomorrow, Medea,
Theseus goes with the sacrifices to the Minotaur
At the Marathon offering,
And will be out of the way.
Medea
As you are out of mine.
Aegeus
My son?
Medea
You deserve no sons, idiot.
What I deserve has been given.
I'm done here.
The Sword and Sandals safely in Onyx's claws, he lifts off; Medea, Nurse and Tutor, astride his neck for the long flight back to the Northern Reach.
DolphinWords
Notes: Voting is voting. Vote!
:)
DavidDavid
Novelists
I open a book, any book,
To see how it's done,
How novelists use so many words
To say so little,
And puzzle,
As the usual is
Few words that say so much.
Idiot
Medea and Onyx have arrived in Athens. And on a patio adjacent to Aegeus' Palace Banquet Hall, Onyx waits patient while Medea and Aegeus argue.
Aegeus
Medea, too soon
To be so round.
Medea
Where I have been
Time descends
Ascends
Awkwardly.
Aegeus
I doubt it is my son,
Rather Jason's you nourish.
Medea
No!
Aegeus
Theseus, my newly discovered son,
Who will kill you on sight,
Such is his righteous momentum
Having cleared the path to Athens
Of criminals and hateful creatures,
Warns me of your scheme,
That you would your last remaining child
Be king of Athens.
Medea
No.
Aegeus
I have no doubt.
Medea
Then doubt this,
Theseus is Poseidon's son.
Aegeus
Not so.
Medea
It is everywhere known,
Ask any god,
Aethra hard on after you slept with Poseidon.
Look for yourself,
It is Theseus exploits along the path
That bespeaks a half-god's
Godlike strengths.
Aegeus
No.
Medea
It is Theseus that would slay you
And take for himself Athens.
Aegeus
No.
Medea
You know my gifts,
As priestess of Hecate.
Beware the proffered cup
That tips your health.
Aegeus
Leave me.
Medea
Theseus comes,
I leave you to
Your convivial banquet.
Tomorrow I'll return
When you are clear eyed
Thirsty for truth,
Or sated,
Dead.
Onyx and Medea having spent the night in the outdoor Theater of Dionysius on the slopes of Athens, rest toghether on the stage, the theater empty, but early morning Athenian risers have gathered at the perimeter of the stone seating, looking on in wonderment at Black Dragon Onyx.
Medea
I don't know why I returned, Onyx.
Remind me.
Onyx
Homesick.
Medea
The father of my child is a fug head.
Onyx
Jason or Aegeus?
Medea
Aegeus, not that it matters.
Onyx
Children are children.
Medea
These empty seats suit us.
Onyx
My presents alone explains that.
Onyx roars and belches flame and black smoke. The gathered onlookers high on the slopes step back, fearful.
Medea
I can do that,
Stand and show them my stomach.
Oh, look, a young girl with a doddering elder
Wend their way though the stone seats, running to us.
How brave, how foolish.
The couple bow before Medea and Onyx.
Tutor and Nurse
Queen Medea, mistress.
Medea
My sons' tutor and nurse, Onyx!
I am so glad to see you,
I thought your lives too lost to my travail.
Nurse
By some magic, we escaped the throng,
How we can't recall,
And made our hurried way to Athens to join you,
But you have been gone.
Medea
Just so,
Though here I am.
I have another for your
Tutelage and care.
Tutor
We are your servants always
Though too
Where you are
We must be.
Medea
Yes, my tiny realm
And smallish family,
With a giant dog.
Onyx, can you bear their weight
On the long flight back?
Onyx
Easily.
Medea
First a last word.
Back at the Palace Patio, Medea leaps off Onyx, and interrupts Aegeus and Theseus who have been talking.
Medea
You are an idiot.
Aegeus
Maybe so.
Medea
Alive this morning tells everyone so.
Theseus grabs his sword to confront Onyx.
Onyx
Oh!
Medea, you promised a treasure.
Medea
I haven't forgotten, you see something?
Onyx
The sword.
Medea
Surely.
Onyx
And the sandals.
Medea
Take them.
Theseus makes bold with his sword. Onyx licks his head with flame. Theseus sits and unties his sandals, his hair smoking.
Aegeus
Leave us.
Theseus, barefoot, leaves.
Aegeus
Tomorrow, Medea,
Theseus goes with the sacrifices to the Minotaur
At the Marathon offering,
And will be out of the way.
Medea
As you are out of mine.
Aegeus
My son?
Medea
You deserve no sons, idiot.
What I deserve has been given.
I'm done here.
The Sword and Sandals safely in Onyx's claws, he lifts off; Medea, Nurse and Tutor, astride his neck for the long flight back to the Northern Reach.
DolphinWords
Notes: Voting is voting. Vote!
:)
DavidDavid
Sunday, November 6, 2016
OTI:three poems and notes:11/6/16
Open To Interpretation
Street Light
"Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern."
Henry IV part 1 Act III Scene 3 William Shakespeare
No shame in that
I'd say
Dead in the street gutter
After a night in the tavern.
We've all made that walk
Our own shadows before us
On the pavement from
Our stars over head.
Were there street lights back then?
Let me check...
Oh, just so,
One, then, could hire a walking lantern.
Did the link-boy turn when he heard you fall?
Rich Or Poor
Depression is like hunger,
Everyone gets hungry.
Rich or poor,
We want to be happy.
Ride
Onyx's 'palace'
Was a square stone fortress tower
Situated on the shore of a marsh
That was sometimes a lake,
But in winter when snow covered
Was an expanse of white
With reeds sticking through
And hummocks covered like snowballs.
Onyx's Nest was atop the Tower
And there beside
He slept in hibernation with his Dragon family.
In the lantern lit Tower Hall,
It's tall windows' glow falling on the night white snow,
Medea sat on a three legged stool,
Perfectly still,
Posing.
The painter from Sycion was melting his wax.
"The Black Dragons brought you here, Pausias?" Medea said.
"Yes, one day when I was minding my own business,
Plucked from a country lane like a roadside flower."
Pausias said.
"They have discerning tastes."
Medea gestured to the murals covering the Great Hall's walls.
"And not I alone," Pausias said,
"Others from my school are here as well,
Along with our works the Dragons pilfered."
"Have you my likeness?" Medea asked.
Pausias examined the wooden panel before him,
His encaustic painting of Medea in progress.
"I approach." said Pausias.
"I too." said Medea, her hands on her belly
Rounding with Aegeus' son.
"Enough of this. Make do with what you have.
I must be off."
"As you wish, Queen Medea." Pausias said.
There isn't much to a Dragon Tower.
A Great Hall, a Kitchen, sleeping quarters,
And in Winter, each of the Towers of the Northern Reach
Were isolated, snowbound.
And Medea had yet to acquaint with their human populace
Beyond the few attendants at Onyx's Tower.
She ascended the stairs to the Tower's roof.
Thereabout, Onyx and his family,
So many black hummocks
White snow covered,
Dreaming Dragon Dreams.
"Wake up, Onyx." Medea said.
From the Dream, Onyx heard Medea
Far away on the horizon of sleep,
And half awake his consciousness flew to her.
"Wake up Onyx! I need a ride!"
DolphinWords
Notes: I've never been able to read Edmund Spenser, or for that matter the epic poets he emulated, at least the allegorical ones, like Dante. And for that matter, allegorical epic poets after him I can't read either, like Milton, or even Blake's 'books'. Stories heavily laden with allegory, my eyes glaze over. How's Hollywood have it, 'if you want to send a message, use western union'. Hmmph. Nevertheless, the epic poets can really write, so always worth a looksee...anyway. studying out Spenser's biography, I happened on this...
quote
We must keep in mind that to a late medieval/early Renaissance audience, such borrowing from other authors without citation was not by any means considered plagiarism. In fact, it was taken to be the sign of a well-educated poet who could command different sources and integrate different styles. The medieval style was one of incorporation, not originality, and this carries on from Dante to Spenser to Milton.
http://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/fqueen/section2.rhtml
hmmph...one rumor has it that Spenser died in a tavern in London, where he had returned after having his Tower overrun by Irish rebels...he may have been destitute, or maybe depressed, or maybe nothing...my maternal grandfather died on a street in Chicago just so, and Spenser's demise tickled that nerve...depression is a peculiar thing...it is just as real as hunger with the self same directed need for fulfillment...food of its sort, whatever that might be...but that being a nebulous notion, no one has any certainty on how to deal with depression...I'm steeling myself for the election Tuesday!...reference Spenser's Castle in Ireland, now a ruin, Kilcolman Castle...apparently, before cannonballs, Castles were Tower like, perfect pedestals for Black Dragon Nests, I'd say!...reference 'link-boy'...'link-boys' might have their modern counterpart...oh, and reference the ancient Greek encaustic painters, all lost...
:)
DavidDavid
Street Light
"Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern."
Henry IV part 1 Act III Scene 3 William Shakespeare
No shame in that
I'd say
Dead in the street gutter
After a night in the tavern.
We've all made that walk
Our own shadows before us
On the pavement from
Our stars over head.
Were there street lights back then?
Let me check...
Oh, just so,
One, then, could hire a walking lantern.
Did the link-boy turn when he heard you fall?
Rich Or Poor
Depression is like hunger,
Everyone gets hungry.
Rich or poor,
We want to be happy.
Ride
Onyx's 'palace'
Was a square stone fortress tower
Situated on the shore of a marsh
That was sometimes a lake,
But in winter when snow covered
Was an expanse of white
With reeds sticking through
And hummocks covered like snowballs.
Onyx's Nest was atop the Tower
And there beside
He slept in hibernation with his Dragon family.
In the lantern lit Tower Hall,
It's tall windows' glow falling on the night white snow,
Medea sat on a three legged stool,
Perfectly still,
Posing.
The painter from Sycion was melting his wax.
"The Black Dragons brought you here, Pausias?" Medea said.
"Yes, one day when I was minding my own business,
Plucked from a country lane like a roadside flower."
Pausias said.
"They have discerning tastes."
Medea gestured to the murals covering the Great Hall's walls.
"And not I alone," Pausias said,
"Others from my school are here as well,
Along with our works the Dragons pilfered."
"Have you my likeness?" Medea asked.
Pausias examined the wooden panel before him,
His encaustic painting of Medea in progress.
"I approach." said Pausias.
"I too." said Medea, her hands on her belly
Rounding with Aegeus' son.
"Enough of this. Make do with what you have.
I must be off."
"As you wish, Queen Medea." Pausias said.
There isn't much to a Dragon Tower.
A Great Hall, a Kitchen, sleeping quarters,
And in Winter, each of the Towers of the Northern Reach
Were isolated, snowbound.
And Medea had yet to acquaint with their human populace
Beyond the few attendants at Onyx's Tower.
She ascended the stairs to the Tower's roof.
Thereabout, Onyx and his family,
So many black hummocks
White snow covered,
Dreaming Dragon Dreams.
"Wake up, Onyx." Medea said.
From the Dream, Onyx heard Medea
Far away on the horizon of sleep,
And half awake his consciousness flew to her.
"Wake up Onyx! I need a ride!"
DolphinWords
Notes: I've never been able to read Edmund Spenser, or for that matter the epic poets he emulated, at least the allegorical ones, like Dante. And for that matter, allegorical epic poets after him I can't read either, like Milton, or even Blake's 'books'. Stories heavily laden with allegory, my eyes glaze over. How's Hollywood have it, 'if you want to send a message, use western union'. Hmmph. Nevertheless, the epic poets can really write, so always worth a looksee...anyway. studying out Spenser's biography, I happened on this...
quote
We must keep in mind that to a late medieval/early Renaissance audience, such borrowing from other authors without citation was not by any means considered plagiarism. In fact, it was taken to be the sign of a well-educated poet who could command different sources and integrate different styles. The medieval style was one of incorporation, not originality, and this carries on from Dante to Spenser to Milton.
http://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/fqueen/section2.rhtml
hmmph...one rumor has it that Spenser died in a tavern in London, where he had returned after having his Tower overrun by Irish rebels...he may have been destitute, or maybe depressed, or maybe nothing...my maternal grandfather died on a street in Chicago just so, and Spenser's demise tickled that nerve...depression is a peculiar thing...it is just as real as hunger with the self same directed need for fulfillment...food of its sort, whatever that might be...but that being a nebulous notion, no one has any certainty on how to deal with depression...I'm steeling myself for the election Tuesday!...reference Spenser's Castle in Ireland, now a ruin, Kilcolman Castle...apparently, before cannonballs, Castles were Tower like, perfect pedestals for Black Dragon Nests, I'd say!...reference 'link-boy'...'link-boys' might have their modern counterpart...oh, and reference the ancient Greek encaustic painters, all lost...
:)
DavidDavid
Thursday, November 3, 2016
OTI:five poems and notes:11/3/16
Open To Interpretations
Golden Apples
So, Hercules,
You think Atlas will come back
With your golden apples.
Just so, Simon thought his burden
Temporary.
Gentle
Poets are gentle sorts
It seems
Which belies their strength
To withstand lightning bolts.
Goose Bumps
Anyone can read a poem,
Like walking over
A clear ice frozen lake,
The transparency
Revealing wonders.
But it is only readers
With a poet's skin
That will break the ice
And take a shivering swim.
Apple
Oh!
That Apple was round!
How easy to miss
The significance,
Eve's magnificence
Offering this round world to Adam.
Nothings
We dovetail
Sweet nothings.
DolphinWords
Notes: these little ones could have really big notes!...I'll leave them be least they become sour somethings...Cubs!!!
:)
DavidDavid
Golden Apples
So, Hercules,
You think Atlas will come back
With your golden apples.
Just so, Simon thought his burden
Temporary.
Gentle
Poets are gentle sorts
It seems
Which belies their strength
To withstand lightning bolts.
Goose Bumps
Anyone can read a poem,
Like walking over
A clear ice frozen lake,
The transparency
Revealing wonders.
But it is only readers
With a poet's skin
That will break the ice
And take a shivering swim.
Apple
Oh!
That Apple was round!
How easy to miss
The significance,
Eve's magnificence
Offering this round world to Adam.
Nothings
We dovetail
Sweet nothings.
DolphinWords
Notes: these little ones could have really big notes!...I'll leave them be least they become sour somethings...Cubs!!!
:)
DavidDavid
Wednesday, November 2, 2016
OTI:three poems and notes:11/2/16
Open To Interpretation
Nervous
Ah
You make me nervous,
And feelings like that
Don't happen everyday,
So,
I'm reluctant to throw them away.
It's not what I want.
And what you want
I don't know.
Looks to be
You're not nervous at all.
Just say what you want of me,
Not what they want
Of you to want of me.
If it's bad news for me,
I had reason to be nervous.
Newspaper
And put down in words
Down on paper words
Where they can't go anywhere,
Printed.
It's the same,
Being put down,
Being told
You're not enough.
Rejected,
Aborted,
Bullied,
Killed off,
Put down like a dog.
It's a daily slaughterhouse
Put down in words,
Or put down unheard.
It's the same
Dictated
Silence.
Back Cover
Black Dragons rule the Southern and Northern Reaches, the white caps of this world. They dread the Black Ships that sail beyond the Pillars of Hercules, but to have a Black Ship Captain for their Queen, and to hear her sing, is their deepest longing. Journey on Dragon dreams, the poems and songs of the Black Dragons and the Black Ship Crews. The Ravens and Gulls are crapping all over the Black Deck. Grab your scrub brush. They miss you. Rub this book.
DolphinWords
Notes: Nervous...I get nervous before every basketball game I go to referee...terribly melancholy too on the way to the game...if it goes well, I'm happy as a clam...Bill Russell threw up before every game...stage fright...usually goes away once things get going...oh, poop too...seen Hawk and Owl do that before they lift off...brb...
quote
Infinite sadness is more than just the 3rd album by the Smashing Pumpkins. It's a feeling that you get when you have severe anxiety. It's this feeling as though there is no happiness in the world - as though joy has been sucked away, and you're left with this feeling as though nothing will ever get better.
http://www.calmclinic.com/anxiety/infinite-sadness
unquote
eesh...Newspaper...too brutal...but there was story of a young girl, who had just recovered from serious cancer, which I think disfigured her face, and back to school, she met the usual bullying, and that 'infinite sadness' got to her, and she took her life...brb...here is story...now, just the other day, the day I wrote this poem, I parked nearby the drugstore in the shopping center, and on walking through the lot, a short male approached, face and mouth not right, and speaking on and on, walking right towards me...at first I thought they were homeless, but it didn't fit...more like some dow syndrome kid lost from the group outings I often see...anyway, I behaved badly, just ignored them and walked by, the usual 'don't bother me' I give the homeless...I've come to the grim conclusion that that is the best I can do for homeless panhandlers...I never see any starving skinny ones...so I continue walking, and happen on who must have been the kid's father leaning on his car door, about to get in, calling for the kid, and looking at me like I'm crap...which I was...Back Cover...on reconsidering, I have it now to title the book of the Black Ship, The Black Deck Tales, and have both back and front covers be all black...on the front that title and my name, on back, this blurb...realized book cover blurbs always look like those old balloons in the video game Shadow Gate...so good fit...'rub this book' (from the poem, which I'll include, though not of the sort I culled for the Tales) part of the conceit, along with the black covers...like a quest announcement in WOW...'rub this book' I'll use a lot for like, 'click on this!...ral...I'm being too clever...but glad of new choice, as I don't have to fret about making my own cover art...and project will move along quickly...blurbs are interesting...kind of an art/poem form in and of themselves...Creative Space Publishing requires one, part of the extent of their trying to help you sell your publication!...on looking at amazon's book offerings you'll always see one of these blurbs...
:)
DavidDavid
Nervous
Ah
You make me nervous,
And feelings like that
Don't happen everyday,
So,
I'm reluctant to throw them away.
It's not what I want.
And what you want
I don't know.
Looks to be
You're not nervous at all.
Just say what you want of me,
Not what they want
Of you to want of me.
If it's bad news for me,
I had reason to be nervous.
Newspaper
And put down in words
Down on paper words
Where they can't go anywhere,
Printed.
It's the same,
Being put down,
Being told
You're not enough.
Rejected,
Aborted,
Bullied,
Killed off,
Put down like a dog.
It's a daily slaughterhouse
Put down in words,
Or put down unheard.
It's the same
Dictated
Silence.
Back Cover
Black Dragons rule the Southern and Northern Reaches, the white caps of this world. They dread the Black Ships that sail beyond the Pillars of Hercules, but to have a Black Ship Captain for their Queen, and to hear her sing, is their deepest longing. Journey on Dragon dreams, the poems and songs of the Black Dragons and the Black Ship Crews. The Ravens and Gulls are crapping all over the Black Deck. Grab your scrub brush. They miss you. Rub this book.
DolphinWords
Notes: Nervous...I get nervous before every basketball game I go to referee...terribly melancholy too on the way to the game...if it goes well, I'm happy as a clam...Bill Russell threw up before every game...stage fright...usually goes away once things get going...oh, poop too...seen Hawk and Owl do that before they lift off...brb...
quote
Infinite sadness is more than just the 3rd album by the Smashing Pumpkins. It's a feeling that you get when you have severe anxiety. It's this feeling as though there is no happiness in the world - as though joy has been sucked away, and you're left with this feeling as though nothing will ever get better.
http://www.calmclinic.com/anxiety/infinite-sadness
unquote
eesh...Newspaper...too brutal...but there was story of a young girl, who had just recovered from serious cancer, which I think disfigured her face, and back to school, she met the usual bullying, and that 'infinite sadness' got to her, and she took her life...brb...here is story...now, just the other day, the day I wrote this poem, I parked nearby the drugstore in the shopping center, and on walking through the lot, a short male approached, face and mouth not right, and speaking on and on, walking right towards me...at first I thought they were homeless, but it didn't fit...more like some dow syndrome kid lost from the group outings I often see...anyway, I behaved badly, just ignored them and walked by, the usual 'don't bother me' I give the homeless...I've come to the grim conclusion that that is the best I can do for homeless panhandlers...I never see any starving skinny ones...so I continue walking, and happen on who must have been the kid's father leaning on his car door, about to get in, calling for the kid, and looking at me like I'm crap...which I was...Back Cover...on reconsidering, I have it now to title the book of the Black Ship, The Black Deck Tales, and have both back and front covers be all black...on the front that title and my name, on back, this blurb...realized book cover blurbs always look like those old balloons in the video game Shadow Gate...so good fit...'rub this book' (from the poem, which I'll include, though not of the sort I culled for the Tales) part of the conceit, along with the black covers...like a quest announcement in WOW...'rub this book' I'll use a lot for like, 'click on this!...ral...I'm being too clever...but glad of new choice, as I don't have to fret about making my own cover art...and project will move along quickly...blurbs are interesting...kind of an art/poem form in and of themselves...Creative Space Publishing requires one, part of the extent of their trying to help you sell your publication!...on looking at amazon's book offerings you'll always see one of these blurbs...
:)
DavidDavid
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