Poeta Laureado De la Ciudad de San Jeronimo Peru
The Ill-omen of Istanbul
[A Dramatic Macabre Mythos in Poetic form;
About Achilles' Arrow]
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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
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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.
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