Quarter too or The Virulent Value of Men

when the Gods arrived, it had to before.
they looked very worn when they walked through that door.

The Centaur looked crazed, his bow broken in two,
as he fiddled to fix his fractured horse shoe.

One nearly came off as he blazed ‘cross the sky,
as he impelled his Jovian arrows to fly.

Graceful and strong, he’s no mere beast.
and when he came back, he prepared us a feast.

it’s his vast wilderness, bequeathed to all men,
and his philosophies, mostly targeting Zen.

then there was Mercury, quick and well braced,
for the stories he tells and the trials he faced.

he said, “killing the messenger is no mere cliché.
no herald of fortunes can just walk away.”

a cosmic first of the first, mankind’s Paul Revere,
his warnings of preface are strikingly clear.
(his intent is to rally, not just to stir fear)

His masterful wit runs faster than light.
if your mind can keep up, his humor has bite.

I feel lucky to witness his twinkle and flash,
as he stories his feats, then he’s off in a dash.
(he never repeats, there’s no time to rehash)

Fair Lucifer, well, he took one for the team.
he isn’t the devil, a false biblical meme.

He brought us some shrooms and American spirits,
he conjures those states where our worst well-known fear hits.

he steals stereotypes, a wise swaggered thief,
and replaces disdain with monumental belief.

He’s stubbornly fearless, knows the devil quite well,
all demons sidestep when he visits in hell.
he doesn’t go there for drinks, but takes more than one shot
when he calls out the devil, still offers him pot.
there’s not any deals, no quaint acquiescing,
no coward’s ass-kissing and no second guessing.
just a nod to the darkness with a courteous blessing,
for its dark where we hide all matters repressing.
(our shadows still breathe beneath all proper dressing)

we can’t be imprisoned only to light
for in choices of darkness, we train there to fight
to offer your life, the brave province of men
what strange need to be needed to always defend!
at the edge of each battle, at the brink of each end!
in libations of blood in the 7 rite paints,
I salute who protects us, the most holy of Saints!

Poseidon came in, soaked to the bone,
a Captain, a sailor, the Sea’s chaperone.

He cursed at the mutiny that evil had stirred,
then polished his trident without even one word.

he was moody, and handsome, charmingly stoic,
broke silence with “trying is nothing heroic.”

“You must be engaged with the subtlest of sounds,
to the deepest depths of the unreachable grounds,
just listen real close when you lose all your sight,
and read the fine mist when something’s not right.”

“for evil is high, when you’re looking low,
it clutches on hard to what you don’t want to let go.”
(it takes unique strength to truly go with the flow.)

“each cool current that you have to meter,
encrypted in message from reluctant Demeter.”
(I never turned stallion to sexually greet her.
A sea horse grazes on what you can feed her.)

he drank Byzantine wine from the gold Ace of Cups
to his harp, a series of driftwood tune-ups
hummed his words softly, so magnetic in lure
nothing I heard ever sounded so pure.
colloquially, he was an alluring demure.

then came the Arch Angel, who arrived from deep space
he comes here in every religion and race

the Spanish man on the street who gave me a rose,
the officer, concerned, offbeat with chance prose

We met up in Cali, when I hitched a long ride,
lectured me in CT, embracingly chide
(a pretty young girl should always abide,
you never know when you might hitch the wrong ride.
You smell like a smoke, and you shouldn’t eat fried.)

In a club in San Fran, to pay verse as my fee,
bluesed through the night on how pain sets us free.

the friendly truck driver from that rainy rest stop,
highwayed me PA directions to reach my hilltop.

He once stopped and helped when I had a flat tire,
he does this all with no intent of desire.

and so many more, I remember him well,
he helped me through life, with each toll of the bell.

then there is Zeus, some call him dad,
despite all the mythical issues he had.

It’s Zeus by which men are cleverly cloven,
where power, lust, and compassion are woven.

with his lightening cigar, and such gritty ambition,
he carries his blueprints for an eternal addition.

he loves women too, and of course they love him,
copulating with smiling vigor and vim,
for nothing assuages, no woman can do,
what a confident man can slide into you.

When he rises in anger, the entire world gasps,
and he shouts with effusion in thunderous rasps.
He is God of all Gods! a most alien being,
when I see him, I still can’t believe what I’m seeing.

Athena rolled her jest eyes, just as he came in
he cracked to her back with his fatherly grin.
she laughed, and gave him a firm missed-you hug,
as Impotent bittered a sarcastic raw shrug.

Mercury then bowed to the impotent Whore,
it’s clear that they probably met once before.

the lush Virgin, focused, was taking some notes,
while Joan spoke to Poseidon about getting some boats.

I finally found me, I’ve been here all along,
In the Centaur’s flamed arrows and Poseidon’s soft song.
I smoldered and cindered, nervous as hell,
I doubt any god in this room couldn’t tell,
embarrassed, steam rose from my invisible aches.
(shaking it off is what life usually takes.)
How I can contribute is still not quite clear,
but I’m humbled, my work is what I best know to share.

then what a surprise! an Attendee or two
and soon yet another, and a couple more few.

One was White Tiger, stealthy and fierce,
his eyes are like bullets that armor can’t pierce,
he strolled casually in, as he owned this high place.
the thoughts he conceived did not show on his face.
his paws are great clouds, he has a striped purple heart
and his majestical pride can shear worlds apart .

with a flick of his tail, and a turn of a verse,
he doesn’t need to pretend, nor falsely converse.
but when blue eye’s strike to the heart of your soul
it’s an urgent reminder of what it takes to be whole.

and there’s always an owl wherever I go,
in Jupiter’s fields and Pluto’s harsh snow,
in blue swamps of Neptune, in Mars deep red crater,
in my intergalactic quantum lexicon freighter.

A ravished compendium against the mad dark
gods, angels, and monsters attended so stark.

then they looked at me, and I fell to my knees.
I must have been at least one trillion degrees.

“by the light of all stars blazed in existence,
from each universe, each eternal long distance,
may I please, in earnest, help light the way?
and remind, if united, the dark holds no sway?
so I can whistle those poignant songs to all birds,
please, grant me the flame, please help me find words,
we all weave our strands through the fabric of time,
even words cast aside that never made it to rhyme.
those words left out still conspired to greatness,
the world won’t forget their impact’s innateness.
for what, pray tell, is my single life worth?
if I can’t save the world through my painful rebirth?”

Zeus smiled. Poseidon nodded. Medusa did too.
“I do underssssstand,” she slithered on cue.  
The Centaur looked up as he still fixed his shoe.

The impotent Whore then raised her dark beer,
with a slurring but steady bar room “here, here!”
the lush Virgin ran slender hands through her hair.
while the Succubus flirted in defiant despair.

“It’s ok, lighten up, don’t take it so hard,
we will save the world, since it’s in our backyard.
Remember to always laugh at dark work,
it sharpens our agency.” he said with a smirk.

Of course, that was Lucifer, his white wings spread out,
and I looked in his eyes, and he banished my doubt.
he made me smile, and I knew that he knew,
that some had misjudged, thought less of me too.

Zeus never sat, he just paced back and forth.
he averted his consciousness, absolved in due north.

as I pondered what life will now look like henceforth…