Part XII

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

“Iliad XI”



book eleven


  Just as Athena would not allow anyone

to pierce her hero’s vitals,

for she wasn’t


with him her toy

her Odysseus, so am I still

on my Odyssey, until my gods are

ready to use another toy to amuse them

as my brittle body gets less acrobatic

and the mind less easy tempted,

I become uncontrollable

for anyone outside

my very own



Agamemnon has his day of glory too,

the Argonauts are reaping victory after victory

in man to man combat.

Over there Odysseus leaving the dead

turns around to skewer Hippasus’ son too,

the blood brother of the wealthy Socus. Somewhow

Socus moves in quick like a god to shield his kin, standing up

to his enemy, crying out,

“Odysseus — wild for fame, glutton for cunning,

glutton for war, today you can triumph killing

such good men — here take my spear

so you’ll breathe your last!”

And wouldn’t it have been for the fact

that the gods had signed up Odysseus

for the lead role in the Odyssey,

another production soon to be staged

Socus certainly would have killed the hero.

Yet Socus is more dispensable,

not needed for the future acts, he has to go.

Athena herself made sure of such.

And Hades greets him opening the gates wide

for Socus in first class, he and his friends riding coach

as the famous coachman takes them

on a grand-tour past all their play- and battle grounds

and through the known parts of the otherworld.    




Jetty Road

Before Mosslanding he took the road to

what is now a State Park. Open beaches for

the public, where public servants paid by

the public’s dollars lock gates and prevent the

public from enjoying public land

access as these public servants see fit.

Paradox or not?

A monumental place

for many years

where lovers parked, cars rocked,

overlooking the jetty, busying

themselves with

the finer things in life.

Yes! There he took his smelly pants off,

just like he used to do.

Yet this time it was to get into

the clean pair of jogging pants

his own, which he kept

handy in the boot.

Airing out the smell from his car

he looked at the

signs of regress by having the State

regulating the does and don’ts

causing restrictions for its people

all paid for by these people’s and his tax dollars.

– Jetty Road now at night was being closed –

the beach access restricted.

A distant view at Lovers Point

this was the historic landmark for many

of this county’s lovers.

To lock it up at night: Progress?

No! Cruel reality.

Access or not?

Countless births had started right here,

sperms counted and discounted.

The moon above the ocean to one side

and the safe harbor and slips

for vessels of pleasure and work

boats from the boat yard

were opening wide

and closing

their eyes in understanding.

Mother nature and the Pacific Ocean

alike were looking on, so

were some people

from a distance beyond the jetty.

He noticed the new development

on the other side of the harbor

where a fish-house dominated

the sand-spit. Not selling

but to study and protect fish,

that didn’t fill his growling tummy.

He knew whaling used to be

big business, it moved this

harbor here where it was now.

Here the Salinas river used to

meet the open sea once.

Yet Fish-On-Display, the bays crown-

jewel had made its home-port

in the muddy waters under

the stacks of the idle power-plant.




(deification of our own nature)

…he used to come here often
at Jetty Road.

One of these old flames,
was no one less than Deborah.

He saw her just the other day:

After getting a book on D base in
the library he went to see her.

He clearly recalled heading up
Carmel Hill but not in reverse
like Steinbeck said he did — and No!
— he was not going frogging either.

Database functions start with the letter D.
Just like date.
Deborah always was a good date.

“But a data base?” She might
have been the gossip column
of the local newspaper
which was owned by an out-of-towner.

But she wasn’t. And hundreds of addresses
we better don’t mention, otherwise
such would have been enough to
call her a D-base.

Databases had to be formated, the
first row had to contain a different format,
such as BOLD.

To locate a record in
a database using a data form, he
aimed his mouse on Data>Form>
locate Fieldname > Scroll bar.

The command buttons to help
searching New/Del/Find Prev./Find
came in handy.

Deborah was now a sales lady at a
candle-shop in Carmel proper; he
remembered her from La Ida Cafe
not from Steinbeck’s days but Kalisa’s.
Deborah always was bold.

Back then she was a teller,
banking was her day-time job
waiting at nights was a secondary
thingy she did and not only
on tables.

She liked the fancy
dancing on any flat surface.
Deborah was a social climber too.
She could climb the stiffest
tower, she climbed Coit often.

Deborah had climbed onto, curb-side,
table-side, from side to side.
As long as the bar owner did
not eighty-six her, as it happened
on occasion.

From Halfmoon Bay to Big Sur,
she was very popular.

he knew, therefore called her
a social climber and his
red-wood-slab-tables near the river
in Big Sur, bore marks
her fingernails had left.

One by twos were commonly used,
six red neck milled inches of soft
wood, nailed leaning against
the wall, a perfect picture.

Panels were common too – not any more –
scars on rough red wood heart
1 by 12 tell:
Of banging filling the air.

In the men’s room
across the patio.Fancy
wood carvings described
Deborah’s qualities, intentions and
vital statistics in
lieu of a phone number
which she did not have.

The most unusual spot one
found her initials was inside a kitchen
cabinet in one of the cottages on
the other side of the highway,
inscribed with a Bowie knife
by several bikers
from the big city down south.
…the story was that Deborah single
handed had turned more than one bunch of
frustrated mean men into happy campers.
…the legend was that Deborah had led
armies of men into battle.



He wondered, if Deborah and

Aphrodite had plotted against him

just to see how human he

be and if he would howl too.

He had a question for Ginsberg,

thinking of George who

whenever he told his tale


“…these unforgettable two…

…the spade and the diamond…

…and whenever they visited nothing

was the same,

…the saxophone played Bill

…the horn was blowing Jacky,

…the ivory was tickling Bobby

the pianist was laughing

…while the Sheriff sang under

the boar’s head holding an unlit

fat joint…

and Papa Jake was yodeling

from the bathroom!”


…and have a most beautiful day, every day!