Gaze into the gaze of Medusa And be forever transfixed, Petrified by our seducer, And the slither of her hips: Just a flick of the tongue and a hiss of a smile, Is all she needs to beguile her prey. With her sleek, sleek body and her big, big hair, And her cat-eyed long, long stare –
Back when slow-worms still had legs, Asklepios, a shy young god, Adrift without a cause or temple, Just a toga and a rod, Was blundering through Sarpedon, Up the valley, down the scarp, and on In search of sacred streams. And there, within a cave, it seems, While carefree and quite unawares, He found the girl of his nightmares and his dreams…
For they say that young Asklepios Had never found his way, Until he gazed upon Medusa, Fell in love that very day, And swore to heal all those who pray to him, On her behalf, And swore to ever after bear Her symbol round his staff. His temple was a shrine to her will, Where serpents freely slinked among the ill.
But these days, preachers rarely praise The grass-snake in the grass, The serpent in the Garden Isn’t welcome at the mass. Saints were crowned for banishing and slander – Or even worse, The mauling, groping, serpent-handlers, Just to prove a single verse – Snake-oil merchants, hick-wood hacks With diamond rings and diamondbacks.
But we who gazed upon Medusa, Goths and metalheads and geeks, Who don’t recoil from fang and coil, As steadfast as those ancient Greeks, Are blessed forever with her curse – To see in ev’ry child of hers Her beauty – deadly if unwise – In never-blinking eyes.
Dammerung Dasching: A girl with one hell of a heck of a name ! It’s hardly her fault, of course, She didn’t choose it – Her thunderbolt handle is barely her blame – In fact, it’s absurd, But her parents once heard Of the power a moniker has on its wearer, And children so labelled Were feted and fabled, Endorsing their promise upon their proud bearer. And so she became An incentive for fame, Did Dammerung Dasching – the girl in the frame. For nobody ordin’ry gets to be called that – She’s in for a lifetime of being enthralled-at It’s hardly her fault, of course, She didn’t choose it, But hers is the force, And she cannot refuse it. The muses are summoned, The devils the same: Now they are the players and she is the game – With a flash and a flame From a passionate dame, She’s Dammerung Dasching – the girl with the name.
The spy cried as he killed her, But the job had to be done. A shame, but the nation’s guardians Must sometimes use the gun. She wasn’t an enemy agent, Just an unintended friend – Precisely the kind of citizen He’d promsed to defend. A bystander who stood in the wrong place, Open eyes in a pretty face, A mouth that might just blow the case. He wept for her at the end.
In the Beginning there came forth the bursting, With ev’rything rushing from ev’rything else And which is still pushing on all things today, Though no-one can feel this occur.
Then came the clouds that would slowly grow bigger By drawing in other clouds, adding their bulk, And the bigger they got, so the stronger they drew – For all things attract and concur.
Then the clouds shrank, but not in their weight, Till they’re thicker than stone and they’re thicker than gold – Their centres grew hotter and started to burn, And that is how stars were begun.
And in with the stars came there light and came heat, And those parts of clouds still left over became The planets that circle them, round and around. And thus, although later, our Sun.
A ball of great fire, a sibling to stars, But much, so much closer – with planets with moons All smaller by far than the Sun at their centre. And each, not a disc, but a ball.
And the third planet out – why, here lies the Earth ! In its earliest days, so another young planet Collided, and flung out much debris and rock, And the Moon was thus formed from it all.
The Earth was still hot, with no water upon – But one day it started to rain, and to rain, And to rain, until leaving its surface entire Now covered by one endless tide.
And the seafloor was cracking up, carving out plates – Floating around on the runny, deep rock, Barging around, bringing quakes and volcanoes – So slow, yet relentless their slide.
This caused for the granite to well from beneath – Far tougher than seabed, this new kind of rock Would form up the heart of the massive landmasses That rose on up out of the sea.
Life in that ocean was also beginning – So tiny and simple, and so it remained. But ev’ry new offspring was just slightly diff’rent And ev’ry slight diff’rence was key.
The better did better, the lesser did less, The better spawned greater, and so did their young. So slowly life changed into myriad forms. Then life got much bigger and complex.
For came there a time when these tiny lone beings Did better by working together, by losing Their selfhood – to building a single large creature. And some gave up budding, for sex.
Some became plants, who could not move themselves – And some became animals – these ones, they could. So many animals, so many strategies – Hard shells and soft shells and backbones and more.
Shellfish were rampant, they’re moment had come. Many would die out, they did not survive, While others still thrive – and small is the diff’rence. They filled all the sea from the waves to the floor.
The first on the land were the plants on the beaches, Spreading thence over the virgin terrain, And bugs were soon following, creeping and flying, As coal was creating from dead tree and fern.
The fish had grown out of a wormlike beginning. Some pulled themselves out of the water with fins, At first only briefly, then longer and longer, Until came the time when they didn’t return.
Unlike the insects, these creatures grew larger, And larger, and larger, and ever more so. But when the Earth changed, they could not survive it – Except for the birds, who flew on.
Now came to prominence more fish-descendants, Who bore their young live and who nursed them with milk – They filled up the landscape the giants had quitted, But stones still remain of those gone.
Some were the monkeys, who lived in the trees, And some had grown larger, and some had come down, And walked on their hind-legs, and upright, and tall – These were the humans. So now you all know.
And all this had taken so many years, many. More than a thousandfold thousand of lifetimes. And still it continues today, and tomorrow – And so days will come, then, and so days will go.
But all that I tell you is not the whole tale. Parts have been left out that need to be told – Parts to be sought out, to draw back the veil, And parts yet to happen, that wait to unfold.
‘Irregardless’ – I love it ! It drives the pedants wild ! A double-neg that disses regs – A blithe, unruly child. You know just what it means, admit it !, For all you raise a stink – And so we’re never gonna quit it, Irregardless what you think.
When the news is full of more beheadings, Bombs on busses, boots on deserts, holy war, And drones attacking family weddings From Benghazi to Lahore, I turn to Senator and Mullah both, And ask them, have they any peace to barter ? Is there any hope for growth From Casablanca to Jakarta ?
But each calls the other a shirker: Says the Senator “Ye see that Ayrab ? He’s nae Rab, he’s a dirty Sassenach.” The Mullah snorts in his tartan Burqa: “That Yank’s nocht but a flithy Irish ! Aye, aw pish, an’ a plastic Mac. Now, I am a Jackobite rightly through, As ginger as the white-on-blue, From Samarkand to Timbuktoo !” At this, the Senator gives laldy: “Listen, pal, I may be black, But I still can gie ya heid a crack, And I’ll see youse, Yaqub, if ye’s lookin’ a’ me !”
Shend me not, my mistress, Send my not to Coventry, Attend to kinder business, pray, To mend and soften me. Defriend-me-not, my darling, Let me tender and atone. Unbend a little, starling, Ere we spend our years alone. Shend me not, my mistress, Send me not distressed and listless, pray – O, end this plot, unblend us not, Nor render our love misbegot – For we have kenned such tenderness And we have wended as we went – We can re-friend such splendour, yes ! We can ascend and be unshent.
To shend is a wonderful if now archaic verb meaning ‘to put to shame’ or ‘to reproach and scold’.
A crossword book with a pen attached – Now isn’t that thoughtful…there must be a catch… Of course ! It’s a pen, not a pencil they proffer – It’s starting to look like less of an offer. We have to commit to the answers we choose No try-this-for-nows or perhaps-that’ll-dos. Just black squares and white squares, Such tiny wee white squares, And make one mistake and the whole grid will sink – So pencil-pussies best beware, This game is won by those who dare, By those who leave their mark on life in ink.
This virus has me in her grip, But hey ho, I’ll survive. I tell myself she’s just a blip, A cocky pirate boarding ship – I’m wrapped-up tight against her nip, But very much alive. She’s in control and letting rip, And I must join her on her trip.
And whoa, here comes the whooziness – Don’t panic, take it steady. This floozy ain’t so doozy And her poison ain’t so heady. My thoughts might be a little hoarse, My sleep a little sore, But best to let her run her course – She’s nothing I ain’t seen before.
She comes at me in jumbled dreams And thoughts that slip and glitch. Her technicoloured jump-cut scenes Are selling-out my mental screens, With fevered swirls and acid sheens That quickly skip and switch. She won’t sustain a metaphor, But throws them off and coins some more.
Her visit’s sure to last all week, And while she’s home, she leaves her streak With red of nose and pale of cheek, And watery of eye – But I can shrug and I can wait, And slowly, slowly, decimate, And slam the door and bar the gate, And bid the bitch bye-bye.
The neons and fluorescents Are more swimming than they’re dancing, The hubbub throb is muzzier, The tinnitus is buzzier – But sweats are less incessant now, And dreams are less entrancing. The fever breaks on which I surf, My bones are bumping back to earth.
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Berlingo
Berlin – City of the english Language, All Thanks to Hollywood and Touristdollars – With bilingual Signs to ease our Angst and Anguish, And fluent Secondtonguers and subconscious Scholars. From Burntborough Square to Prince Elector Way Welcome to Berlinnington-on-Spray.