Part IV

Homer’s (the blind man’s) poetry as seen by helmut s.

“Iliad III”





book three


  As life is mis-led by





mis trust and other misses

where missing the point

insisting on common viewpoints,

I have my own standpoints.  

Hector and Paris,

next to their father Priam,

from the highest tower

are looking at the spectacular show

near and on the beach

where boats are being played with

by Zeus’s brother Poseidon,

while brother Hades peeks over the horizon,

counting souls, his dogs are barking.

Priam waves Helen,

to sit with him,

and to watch the gods doing many years work

in less than one afternoon.

Here Priam teases her as he asks

if she recognizes the man who used to share her bed,

her nearly ex-husband,

the one she is not yet divorced from,

as well as


of his men out there trying to secure their ships.

And the Argonauts are busy like ants,

small like ants,

suntanned like ants and poisonous like ants,

but in the distance of no threat to him Priam

King of Troy in the line of Dardanus, a son of Zeus.

And Priam plays with her mind,

as her head leans against his shoulder,

“He just can’t be without you?”

And Priam adds:

“Helen, never mind. I know you pussy-whipped my son.

That’s the nature of the beast. Neither you nor Aphrodite

will ever be a problem, you women are a pleasure

nobody lesser than the gods invented.

You too are a gift to man to keep him on his toes.”

And together they scan the beach

and there is a sad undertone in the old man’s voice:

“Helen, the problem is not you, nor your tempting beauty,

it’s just a game for the gods’ sake;

it’s just for their amusement,

it’s their newest table game,

it’s them who move their pawns, we are.”      



0-: 9:02 a.m.



at home
…to create he adjusted the digital
sound downward, to quiet the windows’ rattling,
to enter to his worksheet title and all.

Values and formulas in cells were battling
for space, squeezed in tight. He did not dare
to ask “What am I doing?” as this was not
a place to reconsider and to care.

The envelope stared back, the calender
glanced at him. He was uncomfortable
as he agreed this was the rent’s due day.

Four months been kidnaped by evil powers.
Ransom due payable to live here in May.
Galloping time in passing, stole his hours.
He was cornered, no option but to pay…




to clean

( the cell named pigsty)

computer tables are made to edit and

enter, be used to replace, much time spend

with numbers and to delete letters

functions, formulas and still much better

here and there a fillhandle is grabbed

on purpose to copy, drop, being dragged.

Point, click, he visualized how he might

reformat his worksheet just overnight.

There were more rocky paths than one to fall

in lust, the same was true now overall

for insertions into spreadsheets at all

from Right-mouse-button to Insert-menu

and there were as well many ways for you

to remove all these contents from a cell,

from Power outage, to Backspace Cut/Del.

To unplug — however — cleaned the best.





the renter
…his spreadsheet’s future was taking on shape,
here a chart, there a chart, mañana a trace
the present slipped past, now it was too late.

The Wizards with great magic were crunching
numbers, bits alligned, placed and sorted.

Proudly he celebrated the launching
a worksheetbook in hidden files hoarded.
Interrupted by a ring. The landlord
demanding on the phone “I need the rent!”

Further plans he had, he had to abort.
He better dropped-off the check to his friend.

A gentle touch, a soft stroke and “See you
soon!” He said good bye to his loved one,
her, his computer. He knew that she knew.
(A sonnet for the landlord)





The hummingbirds anyhow

were hovering now

above flowers to be poll-

in-ate-d. I heard one bird’s call:

“Wether or not they need,

they will get it indeed!”

And a fainting virgin flower

sobbed “Forget-my-not-this-hour”

as the apple-tree’s blossoms

nodding at their cousins

thanked nature for sending

bees which were lending

a foot or four and a hairy belly

to accomplish the daily

dusting of pollens while

gathering honey for their queen.

If they had to decide and file

a decision. Would they have been

able to make up their mind?

Would they have chosen a bird,

Or a bee, or what other kind

of pollination if having

such choice, and how often

once, a second, a third?




As life is mis-led by





mis trust and other misses

where missing the point

insisting on common viewpoints,

I have my own standpoints.  


Miss Athena

fires the fool on

to break the truce

at Troy…

… the mind plays tricks with him

who otherwise should know much better…

…just as the mind is designed to do,

to create and analyze critical

until an opposite current

switches the


to a closed mind

where desires




Athena brushing

the young man’s vitals

so gentle alive with one breath

at the arrow’s shaft and bursting with

strength does he agree to aim his bow wherever

…it pleases her.  


“Show me…”
Athena therefore demands
breathing hard… so close “can your…”
and harder, getting closer “…arrow hit this Menelaus from here?”









…and have a most beautiful day, every day!