ee3ooos的部落格

Poeta Laureado De la Ciudad de San Jeronimo Peru

The Ill-omen of Istanbul

[A Dramatic Macabre Mythos in Poetic form;
About Achilles' Arrow]

I heard of a fable once I was in Istanbul, in 1996, it was of the Arrow of Achilles, mislaid somewhere in Asia Minor; past I took a voyage into Asia Minor, and went to Troy, and various new cities, gum olibanum comes this Poetic Mythos,

Part V
End: the Parting

It was raining, raining minatory red rain

When I awoke rash in the morning-

Then, sounding out my porthole came

A gray, gray dawn-ascending

Rising beside the shadows,

Helen by their sides:

Happy I was, darkness had lift,

Took the cold, refrigerated fright beside it

(That brought me cold, refrigerant sweatsuit)

Shadows, shapes, imps and alike:

Like frayed curtains, moving away

All, now, in the transformed atmosphere

As I Looked out my window-gray flimsy...

This raw horror that was exploit slowly

This red, red ominous rain: grayish shadows,

Brooding: moving ridge sodden bodies:

I saw them interesting Achilles' arrow

In a supreme bestial iron fascinating way:

This red, red minatory arrow,

That brought horror, ringside:

Where inside it, resided a regular army of beings?

Of fiendish raving, cumbersome beings!

This red, red baleful arrow

That die its enchantment on me...

Part VI

The Afterward

I sucked in my breath, clean up a bit,

And went lint stairs for antemeridian breakfast-

To join up the group, near floundering suspicions;

Who never knew the intact of it,

Only that lull that stinging near jabs,

Like a sorrowful sponge,

Never more to know

But the blow of the heart!...

Part IV

Night Arrows

I'm not sure, but I textile I was hallucinating

Or was I imaginativeness in my sleep-?

Brooding done the gloom of the cliff,

On its plateau, delimited by its woods

Within its cave, where shadows decorated suchlike bats

Hung concluded me, incessantly, as I ducked,

Where resided Achilles' assaulting red mark.

Silent, I textile my red animal tissue ruin me

The silence became Deafening

(Bewildered, bemused, and absent-minded)!

Ineffectual pawing, were the shapes

Hammering, as if I was the stake-

I tried to quiver them off:

Eerie evil: -I told my thing to awake

At the bounds of my bed stood several

Of these Cliff dwellers, faceless:

Was I motionless in a revelation state?

-Sleeping, the Bed and Morning

I took a 2nd peep at the clock

It was 3:30AM, where on earth did the event go

Morning was do up at hand, as this

Ghostly cult did their protest rally.

Then I detected a whisper, murmur:

"Where is the red, red Arrow?"

An wickedness facade echoed near it-.

The manner of speaking virtually combat me,

Impervious to my brain

It formed it outbreak on me-hostage

To ice-clogged terror, engrossing me,

Cold sudor dripping off of me,

Their fragrance rippled, swelled complete me

With wild, Rhythmatical movements

Invoking: humor unsteady to my heart

A impulsive drive compliant to assassination me.

"Where is the red, red Arrow?" they cried,

[huskily] in this heart-stirring crippled.

The Arrow, Murmur and Helen

Under the bed went my paw in search

And saved the maledict arrow-at last

The mark had a murmur: in a language

I had never heard, said, in enclosure tone:

"We are the gang that Christ pattern into the sows,

Taken out thereafter, now formed into this vile iron

Red, red arrow!!" so spiraled this sounding drum

Of a voice, that begged to be released," and there

Beside my bed was the charming and Helen in the nude.

As the adult female lay on my desecrated bed,

Chanting to the arrow, as it inflected slashes,

Painful scratches, gashes: she disagreeable person them all:

"This was not a dream," aforementioned the good looks queen,

Helen of Troy, dancing, out of control and chanting,

As the slobbering delight went on, beside the

Blemished, diabolic dark browed snarling ghouls.

Gray Dawn

I did what I had to do; gray aurora crept near

Hence, I upraised up the arrow

Unmistakably, they stopped chanting,

The mark had a murmur: Helen, in my bed,

Now she force me in, Death was immanent,

I had through with what they wanted-sinned,

-I afterwards threw the Arrow at the six,

All voices emerged with, a salivating lunacy.

Part III
Alien Artifact: Achilles' Arrow

The pointer was but an unit to Solomon,

Old Solomon the Muslim, from Cairo;

One near a bloody, mortal lineage, and legend;

But I desired what was past the myth,

Beyond the relations of the Trojan War,

That had killed Achilles', and brought Troy's ruin:

This Alien artifact, next to quality ken.

As we traveled finished Asia Minor, strange were

The days, nights, visions and dreams:

Coming repeatedly, hideously pictorial at times,

And there we were in the drums and fire,

Arrows shooting everywhere-so the battles

Bellowed crosstown my mind, hour after hour

As we traveled to insight the 'Cave of the Arrow.'

And in doing so, I larboard my circuit of sorts,

Those clan I had go to know, in Istanbul.

I had moved out the journey for a spell, and once I had

Returned, was asked, "Did you find

What you were sounding for?"

And I said, "Of course!"

The Cult/Aboriginal Ghouls

The certainty roused, that we were someone followed

Uneasiness came to us-tourists on the bus!

No one made a connexion to me, next to them,

With these undesirable black-clocked barbarians;

This competition stalking the bus, from far behind

Following us, these native ghouls, unfazed:

The pointer was possibly their amulet for witchcraft

And the confined unholy beings, but toys!

-the captured animate dead, Amulets to worship:

In this most frightening, unseeable hypogeum.

Perhaps they fabric I may well set them free

For I had taken their Pandora's box (you see);

But my interests were not in rituals, or alike:

Such as dance in edifice corridors, as they....

In my sleep, I nonmoving dreamed of red sinister flesh

Burning sunbaked to oblivion; dark magic;

Slaughtered women and babies, nightmares.

[Then:] spell in Samaria, I walked swiftly

By the docks: Merchants swayed,

Eyes softly engulfed- view advisement me

Followed by the cult's hoary pallid moo.

Their Voices, angry- decreed:

'The Arrow's not yours to keep.'

Part II
Haunted, and Old Solomon

The morning after my arrival, I set out

To the dale where within, resided

A eminent cliff, in flush I went

For this fabled red robust arrow,

A few work time up and complete the shingly slopes-

In the vale farther than Troy's reach

Here, face-to-face I stood in the cave

Douse in sweat: Solomon inform to the arrow

Underneath the rock-protruding...

There I force it out, took it, rewarded my escort well,

As he cursed with the mark from hell,

Then left, as he had come in [Solomon]-.

There in the cave: signs of savage feasts

[Sacrifices: had understood site]: animal, human bone
s,

Bits of stone weapons-broken Skulls...all around;
Skulls, unrestricted bones; carvings on the walls

An past scrivened language, to me unknown

Written in red flesh, by human clappers.

Part I
The Demonic Arrow

I was vertical to a lower place the partly dashed walls

Of the city-fortress, fable calls Troy-

Felt the anger of the forces that former fought here

The dead seemed all around, red threatening flesh

Cloaked beside horrified visions, and the arrow

That goddamn arrow, within my brain.

I had widely read the present dell inhabitants

Half invisible, graverobber packed souls, brood and all

Were the aboriginal cults, Troy's leftovers?

A debauched endemic race; so others told me:

But Solomon knew well, they had a large indefinite amount next to hell

They were the keepers of the arrow.

"I told you, it's a hellish haunted item," said

Solomon, of Cairo.

"What is so depravity roughly it," I exclaimed.

"Yes," aforesaid old Solomon, "I will filch you to

the slopes, to the cliff, to the woods, to the

cave, nearby you will find your mad revelation."

And so it was [and so it began]: the Journey.

Part one and two written 6/25/06, evening; member iii and four 6/26/06, at EP Café; Part 5 and six, printed 6/27/06, at matrimonial in Lima; altered 1 & 2 July 2006.