honeyed lips to taste
nectar to need
honeyed lips to taste
nectar to need
Go quietly now,
on ancient hill,
Go gently now,
God and man
fruits of Sabine.
Go wisely now,
once seven hills
Seek counsel now,
Go bravely now,
with hope we sow
titanic children dead,
repeat the crime,
anarchic ruler led.
Justify in words
all those who bled,
resurrect in actions,
Almighty hand that smote
with fear and dread,
usurped by child,
cosmic control inbred.
Disquietude and envy
gods forced and fled,
ruled by one,
warrior from his head.
A game to play
while blood still oozes red.
Beware all jealousy,
so pride is fed.
Warning. Contains sexual references.
I’m attempting to work my way through the alphabet based on myths and legends. This is my offering for G. It’s not part of the April A-Z challenge as I couldn’t figure out how to enrol for that! D’uh!
Votive candles charged the night. Suspended in glass from trees in the glade, their whispers of smoke rose to the heavens.
The gods glanced down and shook their heads in wonder that still they were appealed to, despite having relinquished the right to interfere in matters below millennia ago.
Amid chatter and wine flagons they looked on and viewed the kaleidoscope of colourful candles with a mixture of despair and puzzlement.
Dancing below the makeshift candelabra was a myriad of creatures intent on eliciting a response from deities long dead in interest.
Heavenly cavorting took up a good deal of their time. Not that they were in short supply of that commodity. But still, it was nice to rest now and again from semi- permanent orgasm. Even eternal ejaculation had its limits of pleasure. In fact, truth be told, time and titillation were hanging heavily on their hands. There was only so much frolicking anyone could do. And the new laws on monthly monogamy were proving to be something of a trial for a number of deities.
Tcanchin worried away at his erection and wondered if he might go again. He had a slight itch and speculated whether Faunus might have been responsible. Or might he have caught something from himself? He checked out his vagina and all seemed well there. No, he was pretty sure that whatever was causing the itch was not of his own making.
He picked at his penis a little longer and wondered which of the fauns had caused the itch. They were such sluts among themselves and were the only ones exempt from the law. So it was difficult to be sure.
He grew bored at his own meanderings and caught sight again of the carousing below. A thought occurred.
Conclave called, the gods gathered and discussed the incessant demands from earth. Argument flowed to and fro. When it had exhausted itself and they were back to their origins Tcanchin decided it was time to speak up.
His suggestion was well received and it was decided. He, as the only hermaphrodite, should be the one to revisit earth and check out possibilities for further excitement. Perhaps some intervention might pique his interest and the fallow connection could be re-established.
Tucking his mighty warrior into his belt he gave a shout to his peers and disappeared from the heavens in a shower of glory and good luck cheers.
Excitement bubbled within at the memories of maidens and youths who had previously succumbed to his charms despite their best efforts at resistance. Now, exempt from the laws of heaven, he fairly felt the sap rise within at the possibilities. Such a pleasant change from the eternal assured gratification.
And Tcanchin was nothing if not a player. He would give them a fair chance. There really was no fun to be had in weaving spells that allowed easy conquest.
From the depths of the forest a greater light shone than the candles now almost extinguished.
First one, then the others of those gathered, glimpsed the haloed form. As one they fell to their knees and began to chant in exultation at this evident answer to their prayers. One had come among them whose lightened aura proclaimed him a heavenly being.
Aware, suddenly, that he had omitted to dim his internal light Tcanchin cursed to himself and thus diminished his glow.
Slowly, the supplicants rose and approached what now appeared to be a mere mortal. Some, however, caught sight of the twinkling light that remained in his eyes and were drawn more readily to him, just as he had intended.
Momus hid among the foliage determined to remain quiet and prevent mischievous mirth from rising to reveal his hand in matters. He had waited a long time for revenge for his expulsion from the heavens. The frolics could begin. How he had missed this connection with gods and man.
Tcanchin allowed the devotees to gather closely. Time, he knew, to establish some adulation and reassert supremacy of the deities. Time to relieve the tedium. Time he had plenty of. And it no longer hung heavily.
All-gifted, all-giving, the gods did provoke,
Relinquished the right, them so to invoke.
Promethean crime, aid for mankind, aroused ire,
Retribution, from gods owning fire.
First woman among us, moulded from earth,
Bestowed by all deities, heavenly blessed.
But cursed by the gifts duality knows.
Determination, Zeus overthrows.
A gift bearing ills in a jar or a box,
Pandora relents and evil unlocks.
But hope still remains for good or for ill
Perception is all when hope does instil
Belief in the story of why god would choose
A mixture of gifts, some evil to use.
Is hope then a curse to action instead
Or essence to reflect on when life’s all but dead?
My hope is a blessing, that hope is a gift,
Enabling souls to elevate, to lift,
When all feels too empty, like box opened wide.
Let hope be the light that remains still inside.
In golden age of godly days,
Zeus on Olympus high,
A world controlled by fickleness
And portents from the sky.
Eros fired an arrow true
But aimed at two apart,
Delighted in his mischief
And laughed at broken heart.
Aphrodite wooed and swooned,
Insidious creeping charm,
Wreaked havoc on all men of worth,
Inflicted them with harm.
Poseidon guarded mighty deep
And trident powered seas.
He roared into the chasms, caves
And harkened not to pleas.
Hades kept all souls within
A haunted, hellish hole.
No one travelled over Styx
To save immortal soul.
Zeus believed all he conceived
And interfered in lust
Meddling so in specious forms.
A god, fornicating and unjust.
So many little entities
And great and powerful ones
Distorting truth and argument
All for godly fun.
The golden days of yesteryear,
In fantasy and flight,
Mesmeric in their poesy
But rarely often right.
And still I read of mighty deeds
And heroes of the past,
For myths and legends so profound
Will captivate and last.
Decided to dance a little deeper in life, and wow can spirit dance!
Adventures to beguile you, worlds that will enchant you.
- A paradigm shift in the meaning of 'domestic abuse' & the Atlantic Bridge to ‘1984’...
The thoughts that run through my heid on the subject of Scottish politics and the influence of Westminster rule in Scotland
IT'S NOT ROCKET SALAD.........in the Land o' cakes and brither Scots
Musings on Faith, Education, Arts, Sport and Travel
bringing you the community news in Orkney
When it comes to life, write your own account...
A Son of Scotland
Scottish food - local to global
Irish History Online With Green Lamp Media
Read Iain in The Herald and Sunday Herald, every Wednesday and Sunday.
Side A - Politics, economics, Scottish Affairs :::: Side B - Guitars, gadgets, amps, mods.
News, opinion and analysis on the things that matter to you.