A cup of Styx

What sorely did cry from below,
Shall all a cup be sunk by a stream,
Shall all a tear itself in cup refill
Whist a hand descend nor fill entail,
Shall it then, Athena, my muses sunk,
Now walk through a bay in sound reveal,
Marred by respite an essence owned,
But dared walk through his stream alone,
So cast a memory upon me, my brother away,
Nor memory aside and fates are born a thread,
I breathe a fume of acid to conjure deep,
A dark and nasty thought I listen here,
A scream I seep through malattempt in jest,
Now once in bigger hope I’m fraught for die,
So then he lies at a stream I’ll find away,
So once I carry my life through all fates
Entwined; each tear is a gap in land nor sea.
His difference part from me, his life ill-spent,
And mine through Styx is hellish glory steamed,
Now die twice ere once more reborn, but whisper
Clear are the waters, and subtle are shades,
Then I reach land from his, so am I dead then?
If I am, so then all living are dead to ghosts!
Now he beckons me back, I could not for I am dead,
But choosing life, I leave behind a past in here:
These tears, and blood-let stain my gold depart,
Styx an overfilled wine, with sweet and bitter taste,
This is ought I give, then keep my brother there,
So that I rise and he shall be nominal to degree,
Whilst I look back and this much I am here to see.

*

Fly aghast, succumb to joy;
Nor fetter those waxen feathers,
Nor below look at fires spit in yore,
Nor chisel away at bark long so dead,
Lay gaze at few and turn head to none,
A breath is tolled on whose wings ye fall,
Now better spent by nests in hourly call,
Upon the tree nor solitude is yet to spell,
Now burns a hatred for the Man to pass,
So his essence wane, that all trees fade,
Lest his fire is come, ere us all be swept,
Though a bird’s cry is ill-heard in cities far,
A wave of change is spent and cast aside,
For politics alone shrieks even bears away,
And calls a siren to the nearest fire lay,
Though time nor time lost is gotten free,
That these caves of glow on sides of Earth
Ring even Moon’s light deny in dark forsake,
Now fly free and let smoke in us imprison;
When one man walks, he walks in memory.

Lady of the Portrait

Help me, for canvas imprisoned here,
A respite too short for crowds near,
Mine art is subtle, if not to freeze;
I weep, for this smile would not cease,
That nearby clock, you see? I count all,
Seconds pass, every hour, till it tolls,
Beckon mine eyes apart; one is faded,
If tears allow, the other shall be aided,
I am cursed by paint; he is cursed to paint,
If he saw my tears, could it be he’d faint?
This potrait is alive, I am seeing you;
I can hear every word you utter anew,
Ev’ry argument; ev’ry debate; ev’ry word.

I can make out a reddened eye you broke,
A single eye that tears, without art provoke,
Twas how I felt when I was being drawn,
No more. The Lady of the Portrait is born.
In stormy weather; I am here: a rain pours,
My naked hand an umbrella poised by force,
A drooping head since these long years,
My constancy is but a sum of all my fears,
Now I’m free a while, to step into your world,
Examine all that is, understand all you mold;
In the midst of silent dark where non can see,
So give me leave so that privy I may be free,
No amount of patents you call, nor right of work
Ought make demise of my being nor essence a work,
I dedicate silent acclaim to a silent wish,
Now I but dance alone is all I sole cherish.

With fading time, softening wind, my drooping pursue:
A time is nigh for all fun to end and pain ensue,
For an obligation to fulfill, a frame calls me near,
That same frame, whose bars encapsulate me dear
Here I am, back, and as though nothing was meant,
Alone and in disgust, this portrait that I say,
A sun that melts me, a rain washes all away.

*

Thinks you can muster,
Things you can do,
Bite an arm; put to test,
A strung reel of ability, of skill,
Who knew not the past self to do it now?
If not never, nor can never be done,
If done well, may it better be done.
When in failure, at least ye tried,
When not in failure, do better again!
So these the plans are struck,
To this our task is sought,
A beginning anew, nor late is bade;
A man unravelled is he remade:
No matter how big a task,
Believe in greatness; thou shalt be great.

A Plea

As a man, I sought this control over myself. Now, I finally have it.

Thus the men and women gathered in circles,
So give it time to assemble under sphere,
Reel by reel, rope on rope and flesh bis flesh,
Creek and toe, mute and sulk, a joy withheld,
Sing the way, a Shahadah, nor spell a name cast,
A wound in veil is but wound in thousands more,
Let this saken pruning my art so fine and dare,
A light is cooled by freezing teeth on snow dread’,
Breathe. Thine eyes closed. Now, I breathe again,
A stone bleeds with moss from the gaps between,
And though it sinks through air and the rain here
It does not temper the rock and mountain fall,
I walk as though I walk again for a first in while,
The sands brush against me, whilst snow dares to part,
And all the while my touch is frozen by God himself.
I choose a path that no other man would never dare,
So once I’m at the close of the circle, a semi appears,
Then square it, half the corners, round them; choose:
Amidst each figure, bring them forth, in fire, through dark,
Walk round, and choose, so that none may be chosen,
Then breathe. All is done, now kiss an air so cold well,
Drink, a bird in paradise descends and I shall feud,
I forgot it all. I’m in religion as memory perfect,
In reason fought, now thought as I is given brought,
Entrusted on me is a companion of these of two,
Once I fall, so shall the others fall with me.

*

Though I do not know who you are,
I feel a time where once I knew,
So sweet and subtle a feeling gay,
In midst of fog and dark did blur lights,
Who knew not this man to enter a gaze,
So kind at first, but cold at last,
Though few doses was enough, it wasn’t:
Like a drug mixed with the driest wine,
Who knew not what it was, what he drank?
Only a bitter taste with sweet after tones,
But knew not an effect so subtle thereafter,
First it was so sweet, then rich came poor;
This man once I knew how repressed,
And whose beast inside of me then encaged,
One kiss then slips another, too few, too much,
Oh, fog of hallucinating joy, kiss mine eyes adieu:
Why did you present with me such toxic waste to spell
His name then forsake me at crossroads to guide me here;
Did I ask Love to kiss my lips then soil my heart anew?
No, it needn’t must so; all love for him I now repress,
Whilst he alone continues his pillaging of others,
So to speak; but not for mine, whence now I leave,
But alas, my horny state I cannot forgive,
It was I who so ignorant of my being a storm is swept,
Then years later I’m reminded and so you approach.
No, I do not remember you; but I feel whom I used to know:
Leave, and so never return. Leave, and so never return!

Ill Sport

Though tormented in heat,
Bearing wound upon wound,
Is ill got whence a march esteem,
Who held no hope in path it seems,
Whilst he makes stand the gate is closed,
All around him are bars like dog enclosed,
Not by fate, but by skill and chance in fight,
If this be ought that now is done so right,
Let him be spared from all misery defeat,
Now send cheer that he hear not his heart to beat,
One strike and the crowd in hysterics,
Another blow he would ne surely fix.

Here fought a player by fist and glove,
Looks right and left, below and above,
Sees not himself, within, a beast untamed,
A demon lurks for thoughts he famed,
Neither sweat nor blood can stop him now,
Though thoughts how tough now ill bestow,
He hugs floor and foe in no match resolved,
And all past bound in heart is soon absolved,
Either man too weak, or sport too cruel,
Ere the chance is lost, vict’ry be ought his fuel.