Homer’s (the blind man’s) poetry as seen by helmut s.
God Apollo cautions Achilles
“Why do you hurry now,
the Trojan troops are all inside the city’s walls,
except a few, led by Hector!”
Achilles in his rage tells god Apollo
to get out of his way or be cut down too.
Gently but firm Apollo reminds him,
“You can’t kill me, I can never die it’s not my fate!”
Achilles on his chariot goes with the traffic’s flow,
on a freeway-off-ramp to heaven giving Apollo the finger,
as he is closing in on Hector in a hurry.
The swift racer Achilles like the god of fight
is chasing Hector several times around
and around the walls of Troy, just for the fun of it,
getting a kick out of having the victorious Hector on the run.
And Hector knows,
he can not return behind these strong walls,
he has to stop cowardly running from the Greek fighter.
Yet he knows that Achilles is godlike and cannot be killed
unless he hits Achilles’ heel.
Achilles gives him not the slightest chance
and as Hector lays in his blood
and Achilles is hacking limbs off him,
the dying Hector pleads for his body to be returned
to his people so he might be buried in style fit a King.
Yet Achilles seeing the limbless body
of his friend Patroclus in his mind
shows no mercy
from the bones to be
dinner for the dogs of the
underworld. Now somewhat satisfied
Achilles is ready to give a funeral to what is left
of his good friend, waiting near the boats, is the body
of his ship’s captain. Just one more atrocious act is Achilles‘ dragging
what is left of Hector behind his car for miles around and around
the city of Troy to shame Priam’s son still further.
The Trojan women shear tears for they know
it had been he the great warrior, he alone
who had been shielding them walls,
them towers, them gates and all
of them in Troy. And the
women weep for
been a better
Trojan than Hector.
…on the top of the desk…
Desktops are great
worksheets are great they provide
space for numbers and graphs
displayed on the screen’s desktop.
I watched him.
So did she, his computer, used to him
placing Controls, Bitmaps, Art objects
and Photos into such.
He liked her as-she-was so why did he
want to teach her all modern technologies?
Input and output, she knew
she said, memory fine.
She liked, storage.
Who cared? The past was.
Past A:\ and B:\ drive letters
meant little to her yet
teachers and writers
have always tried to
categorize drives as
Hite did and
Kinsey did and
Freud did too.
They all suffered from some
chronic disease ?
she looked like an angel.
He looked at her skin, the peaceful
face as she slept in his arms.
Makeup powder clogging pores.
Where the robe had opened up,
he carefully covered her, so she would
not catch a cold.
A little angel she was.
As much a saint as Maria Magdalena,
as much but not more than 110 pounds.
He who had earlier been busy with
switching and flipping, embedding
and dropping, flipping and flopping
here he held her, carefully caressing
her hair. Stroking the tips gently, listening
to the in and out of her breath.
Kittenish she had rolled up, trusting him,
and how did she know that she
could trust him?
On a printed worksheet, on the top
of his desk, his Colombian coffee
was getting old.
Realities set in, her hair so fine,
reeked strongly of tobacco.
Two’s compliment is to subtract by adding.
Her breath lazed with booze, wine
and beer, was heavy, foul in contrast
to lovely lips he didn’t dare to kiss.
Her nails painted in darkest red
all twenty of the same color.
And longer than the cat’s
claws in the curtains.
Why can’t one add by subtracting?
But subtract by adding?
She looked like an angel.
He looked at her bosom,
heavy breasts standing up,
two inch scars said implants.
Beside smelling like hell
of tobacco and booze quite stale
she was pretty, his angel.
love vs. lust
he loved his Sophia but…
…she never gave him back-rubs,
Sophia never sucked oysters while
playing with his toes,
…she never cuddled up skin to skin,
Sophia never promised to keep
…she never kept the fire going,
stiring the log,
…she never got him his slippers,
Sophia never offered to mend
his torn trousers,
…she never offered to cook.
and he never lusted for her.
…she, Sophia, his computer,
would never do such,
neither did Sunshine do
what he had expected her to do
on pillows and under laughter he had
hoped to learn her language
com-municate freely, give and take
getting to know one another.
Who was who?
Was zero = zero
or zero = one?
and was 1 the off position
or was 1 the on-switch?
Ani,anje!=Oh ja! Oh yes!
What was right what was wrong?
…?don’t do nothing…
yet friendly she opened her eyes,
she looked at him,
looked at the robe she was wearing
and the blanket and him
still being fully dressed.
“Don’t do nothing?”
shy acting she got up
and tip- toed to the door,
not looking back at him on the floor.
And she went to her apartment
where she did not need her keys
for it was never locked.
The red light in the window
and the rapist wanted sign on her door
showed age and had been much useless.
Much like her calls to the rape crisis center
for active guys’ phone numbers.
And as she left, she left her clothing
in his room except her bra
which was lying outside on the stairs
leading to where they still live,
next door to each other.
Astonished she threw the old wanted sign,
the red light- bulb and his name
into the same box, to be buried
at the landfill north of Marina.
…and he opened the gift he
had bought for himself.
Not more than 4 aspirins
every four hours, he read.
Twenty four he counted
out and flushed them down
with a sip of imported water.
He had not slept much if any,
but he had what he needed
for this day, he had created
his masterpiece and nothing else
was needed but to print it.
He knew it was ready and
polished to be used.
His mind was still on Sun-
shine who comfortable, in his robe
had been naked within his arms.
Why not did he make love to her
as she was sleeping?
He had dreamed about
such since the first day he saw her.
Yes why didn’t he take the
when he held her?
And he told himself that it was
nothing but the pretty picture of
her asleep, the innocence of a
face belonging to the soft body
of a tender sex kitten sleeping,
which truly had been around.
He did not understand how he
had been taming his lust which
had wanted to do like Zeus did to Leda.
He did not know why he did not
use the advantage he had but
then he remembered why!
For he had asked her
and her answer was: “Ne!”
His desire had to stop there for
her “Ne!” was a “Ne!”
a ne-gative answer.
It did not matter that everyone
knew that she changed boyfriends
at the blink of an eye.
I did not matter that she
had been circulated due to demand.
It did not matter that even last night
before coming to him, she had gone
with the fellow who drove her, Paris,
from work to here to the beach and
all these others, yes
what about the carload of guys?
Yet a “Ne!” was a “Ne!”
but she was drunk and would not
Yet a “Ne!” was a “Ne!”
Maybe he was wrong and she
wasn’t the kind of woman every
man knowing her, said she was?
Maybe she was not at all like Deborah
and Aphrodite and not like Rosa
Why didn’t he?