Best Pallas Poems
Poe laid flowers on her grave
His lost Lenore
One he’d love forevermore
But doomed to see her nevermore
Storm clouds expelled true daylight
Yet near her grave on a dead oak tree
An ebony raven stared and seemed to agree
“Nevermore,” the bird mocked, flying off with ironic glee
Clouds burst, pelting the cemetery with rain
Back to his horse and carriage Poe ran
Was Poe a pawn in this raven’s game plan
An unhealthy racing of his heart began
Arriving home, Poe sought to forget
But there was the red-eyed, sinister bird
Perched on the pallid bust of Pallas, it said just one word
“Nevermore,” was all Poe heard
Stealthily the bird had entered through an open window
“Did God summon you to add to my grief?”
Poe pleaded, “Will I ever find relief?”
“Nevermore,” cried the demon, to Poe’s disbelief
Poe tried to rid his home of the tormenting invader
“Fly away; take your word with you!”
But the evil visitor would not bid adieu
Its single word was malicious; Poe could not misconstrue
When rainfall ended, the raven flew to the windowsill
“Be gone!” Poe screamed, his voice filled with hate
It eyed him once more, leaving Poe in a crazed state
But loving memories of Lenore it could not desecrate
*Written October 1, 2014
Athena
the dutiful daughter standing behind her father
in lightning thick with aegis assurance
read to protect her family
and counselling them times of need
Athena, the grey eyed goddess
who watches carefully with graceful wisdom
coercing ignorance into obliteration
solutions fly into her hands
for her to dispense and she desires
Athena of the City
philosophizing with the common man
trading amongst mortals
companion to heroes in distress
strategic with the broken soldier
Athena the virginal queen
modesty made attractive
purity prioritized in beauty
who ran through rape's smitten fires
with the strength of civilization in her hands
Yet even you, Pallas Athena,
illustrious among even immortals,
are not without your faults
Even you fear death's decay
dragging your name into Lethe's depths
You weave with Fate's spindles in faulted pride
as your equals fall beneath your altar
spinning spiders slaving in cinders
and gorgons grazing beneath your Parthenon
made golden by their angered gaze
Are you not jealous as well as just?
Is not your immorality made irrelevant
in the light of your immorality?
One does begin to wonder
If your wisdom is mere intelligence
Your knowledge mere luck covered stupidity
Your duty and honor merely a fear
To be seen as a vulnerable beauty
Your prized purity mere pride
Your longevity simply a lie
Perhaps all the exists of you
Is a memory wasted with the false belief
That your good outweighs your transgressions
When the Parakeet increased his squawking
with the noise box ceaseless talking
far louder than the muted city roar.
Then I pondered that curious poem about the lost Lenore
About that bedeviled man and the raven Nevermore
How I envy Poe his quiet midnight
when he could hear a tapping however light
through the window pane or was it a chamber door
when quoth that famous raven Nevermore
I agree oh raven, Nevermore!
Nevermore what power lies in that word
I'm trading my parakeet for a silent gallows bird
that knows only that single solitary noun or did he mean it as a verb?
Nevermore the nightly noises that disturb
television gunfights, cabs screeching off the curb
neighbors who are seldom seen but always overheard
The raven sought a bust of Pallas
as a quiet place to perch
They took me to the rest home
between the firehouse and that bell ringing city church
so to the end of this as must all tales
for now I contemplate Poe's bells, Bells, BELLS!
Watching Homer struggle
to explain how a god wounded by a mortal
cannot die but may thereafter live with minor pain
and the humor when that god
complains to Jove that His supervision of His daughter
is inadequate and His Love too unconditional
while Diomed (or Tydides)
wreaks havoc on the Trojans and Hector
gives it back (in kind)
anatomically correct descriptions
of spears piercing jawbones and groins
sons without fathers hunting and fishing thereafter
alone. Written
amazingly presciently!
as a metaphor for Vietnam (our war)
forgotten consensually
as this generation slips lazily away
to Hades (or kayaks to the huckleberries)
where the lights are always blue, gentian actually,
supper's served at 4 and former adversaries
pass the heavy hanging time playing pinochle (and pool).
We're selling the house to pay the taxes.
Pallas Athena wars among the men
from the axle of her chariot
and Venus is injured by Diomed,
standing in the field of battle where she never should have been,
in her adorable hand.
What has this to do with Solomon in jail.
Not the Jewish king, a black American male,
same thing.
Your children can be failed at school and marched to war.
You can be taxed and sent to gaol for the honor of it.
anyone lived in a pretty how town.
We have no obligation
to perform the Iliad or read poems and even Homer
considers Achilles effete (compared to Hector)
and Odysseus is wrong even when he's right.
Therefore, modern man explores
the mathematics of circles in coordinate planes and their tangents
(when) (once) (soon)
the secret of warp speed is discovered
expansion of the species will be limitless and permanent.
Winged Lessons
by Odin Roark
Sitting astride his backpack,
A roadside nomadic looked up from his book.
The sun oppressing,
The sand distressing,
The bird noise progressing.
“From where came your right
To straddle fence wire and incessantly complain
With pompous cawing at a resting traveler,
As if he didn’t belong?
Who made you judge and jury for speeding cars
Trying to avoid your missile-like whitewash
As they chase setting suns
And see me only as a roadside shadow?
What do you know of windblown highway ditches as nightly shelter,
Or roadside memorials of white-cross remembrances,
All kinds of lives suddenly stopped?
Rather than making all that commotion,
Wouldn’t you be better off listening a little more,
Enjoying the fluttering quiet of those beautiful black-opal wings,
As you swoop in on sign posts and rusted-out abandoned cars?
What’s with your nasty disposition, anyway?
And why aren’t you carrying on like the raven you are,
Instead of the your noisy lessor specie, the crow?
Oh never mind.
Just shove off.
Let me have some peace
While I work through Poe’s take on your gnarly purpose.
Better still, just shut up and listen.”
‘And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!’
“See what I mean…
Maybe this Poe fella is trying to explain
Neither one of us is gonna live forever,
So…”
What you are to me, must you ask?
Then let me say and say it well.
In the past, you once wore a mask,
a face of what I could not tell.
Then, like a god, you take to task
my proud conceit cloaked in a shell.
Today, intense and raven-haired
with wisdom fit for Pallas Athene,
you are the soul that always dared
to be the friend I've never seen,
the confidante with whom is shared
my hope of things that's never been.
Now, like the Atlas map and chart,
you're a compass to guide my paths
through hopelessness that filled my heart.
And so, life's trials and downdrafts
are less severe because you part
my sea of pain so I may laugh.
“It Came in Our Dreams”
The Others
watch on,
somewhere above us.
we, ant like
form our battalions
soldier ants
with no substantial sting
repelling reptilian
brains in flight
striking our oily deals
sliding into our nightmares,
acrid smoke, bee-keeping our hives
we strike, in routine formations
they count
our worth.
our number
measured
in what always
walks alone
in our dreams.
they send
their messengers
to us, in our dreams,
while we
war
in our sleep,
in the depth
of our despair
in the flow,
of our dreams.
when we wake
we think,
that was so real -
what was that all about,
that was so real,
where are we -
are we really here?
they count
our worth
our number
measured
in what always
walks alone
in our dreams.
we
are more
vulnerable
than we believe.
we are seen
for what we truly are
human -
the fabric of us, flimsy -
easy
and dispensable.
for a while
we
think,
we are
all
there is -
unique,
in truth,
we ...
lack originality.
wars
of the unreal,
Nuremberg 1541
there have always been battles,
could this
have been real,
or just a dream
Tic-tac-toe
we think we
know
it all
battles come and go
what is drawing us
forward and up
out of our bodies,
from the too deep dream
we toss and turn
in our sleep, nightmares
easy regiments -
dispensable, flimsy
souls
without feet.
one war down
another
to go.
It came in our dreams
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Pallas Athena”/Bowie
https://youtu.be/yNV5_6vz208
Nuremberg, 1541
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1561_celestial_phenomenon_over_Nuremberg
Celestial Phenomenon Over Nuremberg, April 14th, 1561
https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/celestial-phenomenon-over-nuremberg-april-14th-1561
Witness
https://movies2watch.is/watch-tv/watch-ufo-witness-hd-67147.4829014
President Reagan: Address to the United Nations, September 26, 1988 https://youtu.be/nYi5h5Gvdz8
Ronald Reagan, UN, September 21, 1987 / Threat
https://youtu.be/bfS7FrN5aNQ
LYRICS/”Pallas Athena”, Bowie
https://genius.com/David-bowie-pallas-athena-lyrics
Be not harried by apostasy spates
Surcease ye flux of basilic imprecations
Adhibit ye ,supernal paracletes
The pith of divinity
An Achates,
Vae victis
In this temporal realm
Chatoyant fanfaronade
Sursurrant congeries
Erelong abate
Shun the gaffer's gammon
Arcadian maundering
Avaunt kaleidoscopic zealotry
Bandy a cutlass perfervid
Ex aequo et bono
Beneficence's glaive bandies.
Preside atheling echt
In pharos of Nestor
Bestow succor to the augean Boeothians!
Malign them not--for now come the celestial shower
To halidom, shepard, solace and anele
Ye benighted churls
vocabulary- spate-flood; arcadian-rural/simple; echt-adj.-genuine; Nestor-the god of
wisdom; Achaetes-any faithful friend; chatoyant-possessing a changeable luster;
rein-v.-to curb or restrain; amative-amatory; anele-v.- to annoint; harry-to torment by
constant attack; perfervid-ardent/very fervid; ex aequo et bono-L.-according to the
principle of fairness and good; bandy-to beat to and fro; vae victic-L.-woe to the
vanquished; gammon-nonsense; gaffer- an old crone; flux-flow;
fanfaronade--n.-bragging/ostentation/bluster; congeries-heap; susurrant-adj-whispering;
basilic-lowly/base; pith-vigor/force/strength; supernal-celestial; imprecations-curses;
halidom-a holy place/holiness; Pallas Athena-Gr.goddess of wisdom; quotha-arch.-indeed!
Forsooth!; paracletes-someone who aids and supports; glaive-sword; pharos-lighthouse;
atheling-ancient crown prince; adhibit-to let in/admit; benighted-adj-overtaken by
darkness; bestead-to aid; anele-to annoint; contemn-v.-to view with contempt; solace-n.
comfort in sorrow
Lets take a journey back, back in time,
back in time to twelve million years ago;
and high in the Asian Steppes lets climb,
up thirteen hundred feet to cliffs narrow.
There we will find the Pallas cat unchanged,
this solitary creature still exists;
but because of man this cats life has changed,
and though illegal fur hunting still persists.
Some think these wild cats will make nice pets,
this is crazy to even consider;
killing, capturing and now survival- threats,
this stupidity leads me to anger.
Oh, leave this beautiful creature in peace,
yes, admire but please- the hunting must cease.
__________________________
October 28, 2017
Poetry/Sonnet/The Cat Time Forgot
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9532-90-0
All Rights Reserved.
He was the son of Ernst, an immigrant gold engraver,
his devoted mother Anna was a gifted musician-
Austrian painter Gustav Klimt was but one of seven children,
all three talented sons were in constant competition.
In 1876 he attended Vienna School of Arts and Crafts,
an architectural painter he was training to be-
The Golden Order of Merit from the emperor he received,
and became an honorary member of Munich’s university.
Losing his father and his brother took a pitiful toll,
the tragedies affected his artistic vision and style-
But he met his companion Emilie Floge; life turned around,
and fathered fourteen children all the while.
Klimt took summer holidays with Emilie’s family,
off the shores of Attersee and painted landscapes there-
He became president of the Vienna Succession,
provided exhibitions for other starving artists who cared.
In 1894 he was commissioned to decorate the ceiling
in the famous University of Vienna’s Great Hall-
All three paintings were overly sexual and too disturbing,
so, they ended up being destroyed out of rage after all.
Klimt’s Golden Phase was positively successful,
many of his paintings from this period utilized gold leaf-
His first use of gold is traced back to Pallas Athene (1898),
taking small trips to Venice inspired his gold motif.
Most of his routine models were prostitutes,
posing in any way that would please his desire-
He was a highly erotic man who loved women,
but his dear Emilie was always his greatest fire.
He died in Vienna on February 6, 1918 from a stroke,
his paintings are some of the highest priced individually-
He lived a life of complicated freedom with pride,
yet placed a special importance on spirituality.
Klimt never painted a self-portrait of himself,
he thought there was nothing special about his silhouette-
If someone wanted to see who he really was,
he’d say, “look at my paintings and you won’t forget”.
Klimt Poetry Contest
December 13, 2017
Of a raven wrote Edgar Poe
That came but would never go
From its perch upon Pallas
Cuz it liked watching Dallas
On the TV picture show.
Alternate, sillier version:
Of a raven wrote Edgar Poe
That came but would never go,
Whilst it dreamt of its Muses,
Two of The Stooges;
Of Larry and of Curly but never Moe.
Athena Lady Pallas - Francis Bacon's muse.
Hyperactive Children Emerald calming may they use.
Metaphysics, Wendy Chung - sofwtare ideolu-shuns.
Aeliological tragectories; Logically fulfilled Possibilities.
Logos is replaced by code, source authority erodes.
Positive computational transformative change,
fundamentalist complexity backlash no shame.
iON Hilarion arChangEl Raph!
How does green 5 niCEly fit in your graph?
Code's generative difference of 2 addresee's:
Emplied mediation tween humand machines.
Wings, as black as night
Casting shadows on light
Always, always tapping
Disturbing those napping
Tapping, tapping at a chamber door
He never knew why I came
Only hoping for something sane
Hoping for lost Lenore?
Nameless here forever more
For I shall come, ah nevermore
Nevermore be my name
And with death I came
To tame
His depression, but for him it is all the same
Now I stand on bust and Pallas
Exposing nothing but Malice
He quivers on the ground
As if listening for the sound
Of tapping
The cold air of December
Cooled each proud ember
As he soon remember
The soul of lost Lenore
Nameless for him evermore
But he thinks me a demon
Or, a craven
But I am only a Raven
From the Night's Plutonian shore
The shadows of my wings adore
But a Raven I am
Nothing More!
Set this proud man's troubled soul free
For only then shall he be
With the radiant maiden whom the angel's name Lenore
Nameless, Nevermore!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeCT69YlTvk
"Immaculate Lost"
Closed door.
A cell shared
in constant
heartache
counting days
on a cold wall
words counted
tears fill a well
there is the ocean
where sharks dwell
sharp teeth
and vicious minds
unforgiving
that do not weep
stone hearts
a voice cuts conscience
bleeds red a river deep
life lives somewhere
kept caged waiting
for the keys
Home
while the
Ravens and Crows
bleed reason lost
their comedy responds
in ignorant rhymes
deadly whispers
to a mind
kept locked
counting numbers
time and children lost
in nightmare's frost
beats in time to a
stale Metronome sailing
a recalcitrant planchette
sullen yet undefeated
wraith heart pounds
beneath the
frozen surface
in the depths of
black banshee shadow
beneath eyes
that reign through
windows of pain
while kneeling
before Pallas
Athene
still meets you
in her dreams
Immaculate Lost
Nevermore
Again
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeCT69YlTvk
J.M. "The White Blind Light"
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Lac_(poem)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Raven
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48860/the-raven
https://owlcation.com/humanities/pallasathene
I am a wild Pallas, so get out of my way.
I am determined to get back to my kits today
They are high away from people in the Tibetan Plateau
Please leave me alone, for I can be aggressive, you know.
I am trotting to my kits, so stay out of my way.
I am the fluffiest cat, but not here to be social or play.
I am heading toward rocky terrain, my bushy tail held high.
If you think we are going to interact, you have got the wrong guy.
My stocky build makes me kind of slow, all right.
So if you insist on engaging, I will stay and fight.
I have adopted to the cold, which is what I prefer.
Don’t expect a housecat, I have no gentle purr.