Part V

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

“Iliad IV”

 

 

book four

  There is truce

as the Greek armies have their own arguments,

yet those on-looking gods

they get more and more impatient,

the more they have to wait for suspense and action.

This is a major production but still missing are

blood and guts piercing spears,

vibrating shafts, junked armor, reflecting

shields, terrified faces with teeth shattering in their mouths

and quick arrows changing voices hitting vitals.

Hades is waiting to bus the darkest of the dark souls first

and Poseidon promises to rinse the plate

and all those dishes on which horses, kings and queens

next to bishops are waiting to be slain.

Yet nothing happens but quarrel between the prima donnas.

That’s why goddess Athena did offer

to get the show on the road, by finding a common man,

one soldier stupid enough to fire the needed first arrow.

And

selecting from

the vast number of applicants

she finds the right tool — for this, her mission

— in a daring and foolish young man.

Thinking of himself highly

as a master marksmen,

he is most likely

the Trojan’s best archer.

Athena promises him beside glory

everything else this man could ever want,

standing behind him she whispers sweet nothing into his ears

touching his arrow’s shaft.

At her “Go for it”

the archer sends

the bronze head

on its way,

a glint of gold

the sun reflects,

followed by

the shaft’s black wood

a shadowy tail.

Too late

Menelaus sees it coming — too late

to stop the arrow — the archer witnessing

Athena running out on her promises,

withdrawing the body which nanoseconds

ago had pressed against him.

Too late to undo… the deed done,

what has been done, by him

who has been tricked. Too late

for more than watching the great pain

inflicted by the piercing arrow

cutting jewels from Agamemnon’s brother’s loin,

bleeding he is, Helen’s husband, on the ground

a neutered Menelaus.

And with this, the opening scene to the Trojan war,

the gods are applauding Athena,

as those earthlings them actors

are rushing about

on the stage set up by their gods.  

   

 

baking in the sun

(waiting for George to find the classroom’s key)

Where was Latin when he needed it and how wrong

For once at the revolving doors of wisdom

were his teachers predicting the future, fifty years ago,

historical chalkboards still being used,

now Computerese was invading his life, changing it

the cables for Internet and computer compatibility

if he wanted it or not,

are being buried in the ground

scientist splitting cells,

screen and box are on the way in, PC-NC and

many kind and creating more and more

Computerese soon stealing the show once being

of an amazing world just imagine

the pride and joy of any school

hot shot poetry teachers just like Lober,

just look at the quality of the individuals

and great computer science teachers just like Byrd,

being replaced by countless copies of studies by experts,

and all students like sheep

shown on big screen displays, backed up by information

cloned, nothing but clones, cloned, cloned sheep

from a master computer instead of relying

on answers nobody has, he is scratching the nose, he has

on the resources of the people within each class room?

 

 

 

😉 10:01 a.m.

 

 

love thy neighbor

His ears filled with, “Work-work! Work-work! Work-work!

You-must-you-must-you-must-you-must-you-must,”
voices unstoppable by wax or by cork.
he left his latest love, just to adjust,

Due to these voices’ creating confusion
between his ears, he left her, Sophia
all by herself not fearing intrusion.

“Default alignments are for numeric
entries Right justified and characters
align Left justified, that’s generic.”

He lectured himself stepping out. An actress,
she was centered in the double-Dutch-door.
Helen’s leaning over the ledge into
view, by inches; what a view, superior.
(Sonnet for the neighbor)

 

 

thoughts

…thoughts as deep as Helen’s valleys, whereto

his widened eyes con spectacles were glued.

He remembered her magnetic field too —

since she had touched him — by her subdued

“Howdy!” a kiss flung, “Pretty One!” said he.

“What you up to, hon?” was her smiling say.

He answered quickly, “Would you wait for me?”

Ignorant he did not hear her “Ani! Anje!”

{}-:@

 

“copy”

I copy what he does and try to
learn by copying his mistakes
but I don’t tell him, who is too busy
looking at Helen trying to get to first base.
And I copy and I copy and I copy his
mistakes. And I copy and paste.
So I try it, too.

“Oh! No! Hell yes!” And all I did
was play around with the charts and
not knowing how to delete one of
these things, called charts
one of these monsters
created by mistake and I am clicking
and clacking once, twice and more

often, swearing and sweating and
nothing happens. As it happened
at my test and I felt like I was screwing
up big time, real big time.
Living down to my own expectations,
earlier overly confident the air is leaking
from my balloon it was the ego farting

deflating during the moment of
the truth and I was all alone.
Feeling everybody looking at me
but nobody does.
It takes all the guts I have to reduce the
unwanted, unneeded chart in size to a point
and to deposit it in the desktops far away corner

later it shall be nothing but a smear on paper.
I am keeping my head up and on
my shoulders sooner than later finding
myself in deep water real deep diving
into it and there is not much else
happening, nothing really happening
but it’s me being shocked

unable to understand my own stupidity
when the undeleted little speck a mere point
comes to life and fills the page with colors and
numbers of thisdarnwrongchartthingy
and then I remember hi-ha-how to
send this and any chart off the desktop into
infinity.

I simply cut it and post it to the Internet.
Out there somewhere
her father Zeus was watching,
her husband Menelaus was waiting
in Paris and Paris was visiting
Armin the Cherusker’s monument,
where the Trojans are better known
under their nickname
“Pariser”

10-4
walk

 

…reflections in the window nothing more

he was he trudging down spaghetti-hill. His

daily walk was a routine acquired for

every day getting mail and that or this

from his mail-box and shopping the store.

He brought the landlord the rent and further

he bought some oysters for the late-brunch he

planned to have with Helen the neighbor.
:-/>

 

 

(… for deus au machina)

…once there was a softly software
glowing whilest and during each afair
not only in the hand
yet she lend it to her friend
who used it to cover his hard “hardware

 

 

ILIAD V

 

 

 

 

 

…and have a most beautiful day, every day!