Medusa’s Kiss. by Ray Subrata
The trends of gorgons,
From Greek to Modern go on,
And desert hearts seek oasis,
The vital trance of Medusa’ kiss.
Vitality’s beauty, -a fire to flame,
Passions’ blind fury sustains the claim.
Back to the Trojan war, Paris’ Helen,
The stooping of Roman emperors’
To gorgon glory of Cleopatra’s game,
The sway is, Medusa ‘s name,
However fake cloth you constantly wear,
An appeal within of Medusa you bear!
poem by Bazi alis Subrata Ray
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Madam Medusa
From the land of shadows
Comes a dreadful sight
Lady with the marble smile
Spirit of the night
See the scourge of innocence
Swinging in her hand
Hear the silent suffering
That echoes through the land
From the tombs of ignorance
Of hate and greed and lies
Through the smoke of sacrifice
Watch her figure rise
The sick the poor the old
Basking in her radiance
Men of blood and gold
In her bloody footsteps
Speculators prance
Men of dreams are praying
For that second chance
Round her vacant features
Gilded serpents dance
Her tree of evil knowledge
Sprouts a special branch
Madam medusa
Madam medusa
Madam medusa
Knock her right down
And then she bounce right back
Knock her right down
And then she bounce right back
She gone off her head
We've got to shoot her dead
She gone off her head
We've got to shoot her dead
Run for your life before she eat you alive
Run for your life before she eat you alive
Move out of the way cos's you're blocking out the day
Move out of the way cos's you're blocking out the day
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Medusa
Finally
I have seen the lights in your eyes
And now
I am gloryfing my tragic destiny
Dreams can be wholesome for me
Life is a tormented dream for me
Mesmerize me, enchant me
Mesmerize with your eyes, now
Enchant me, hypnotize me
Enchant me, mesmerize me
Enchant me, hypnotize me
I found the lies in your words
And now
I am gloryfing my tragic destiny
Dreams can be hard and mean
I still wonder if you are aware of this
Dreams can be hard and mean
Life is a tormented time, now
Medusa medusa
Medusa
Enchant me, mesmerize me
Enchant me, mesmerize me
Enchant me, hypnotize me
Enchant me, mesmorize me
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Helen of Troy
A mythological beauty, she had been;
A legendary beauty, she had grown.
Who is it other than Helen of Troy,
The epitome of seductive beauty?
A symbol of man’s erotic desires,
From the other women, Helen differs
In that she never employed her charms
To gain power of self-aggrandizement.
Her era dates back to fifth century B.C.
The fairest of women had been the one
Whom all women should hate and yet envy,
And all men should fear and yet desire.
No wonder, men were captive of her charm,
But not was she captive of any man..
She had admirers; none did she admire.
Her fairness deserved more than what she got.
A puppet she was in the heavenly battle,
Where Greek Gods and Goddesses had sported.
As such, she must be absolved of the taints
She was attached with, sadistically.
Helen was the daughter of Zeus and Leda,
The Greek God and Goddess. Born of an egg,
And brought up by a shepherd, she became
The prince of Sparta, a kingdom’f the Greek.
At her age ten, Helen was kidnapped
By an Athenian Hero for her charm
And was, however, brought back unscathed
By her brother; so famous she became.
At Helen’s wedding, numerous suitors
From far and wide came to claim her fair hand.
They were made to swear an oath to defend
The chosen husband in the event of
A rival attempting to abduct Helen,
The beauty who bred danger where she trod.
The oath assumed a greater importance
In the development of the Trojan War.
Helen was married to Menelaus,
A warrior, on his highest offerings.
On king’s death, he became the king of Sparta.
Helen bore a daughter; nine years rolled.
Paris, a Trojan Prince, came to Sparta
To marry Helen, whom he had been promised
By Aphrodite, after he had chosen her
As the fairest of all the goddesses
So that she could claim the golden apple
Thrown by the Goddess, Eris, from anger
Of not being invited by King Peleus
For his marriage to Sea Nymph Thetis.
Once Paris arrived in the house,
And Menelaus was fated to leave it,
Helen eloped with Paris to Trojan.
The war broke, all suitors participated
The war lasting for over nine years,
Helen lived these years as a willing captive,
More to the design of Aphrodite.
It is unfair to brand her as unfaithful..
The end of the war was brought about
Through the Trojan horse built and left ashore,
With their heroes hidden in it. The foes
Drew the horse into the fort for their fate.
The heroes sacked the city and captured
And caged the fairest queen to her shame.
The Greeks and the Trojans despised her alike.
No woman of her status could be that worst.
Menelaus was to slay his faithless wife.
As he raised his sword, , she dropped her robe
From her shoulders, revealing her assets.
It made him let the sword dropp from his hand.
Helen defied Aphrodite to remain
With Paris, who was soon to meet his death.
Her woes about her hasty decision
To leave Sparta and her spouse crippled her.
‘I will not serve his bed since the Trojan women
Hereafter would laugh at me, all, and my heart
Even now is confused with sorrow’
Helen lamented thus to Aphrodite.
Helen returned as the queen of Sparta.
Chastity, outraged, could be recovered;
Women are resilient, given a chance.
Helen is a proof for all men to note.
How Helen looked, no clues;
Yet her name has power
To inflame men’s heart, ho!
20.08.2008
[Aphrodite is Greek Goddess her counterpart is Venus.
Zeus is Greek God, his counterpart is Jupiter.]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Iced Espresso With A Straw
In another world (hmm..) after or before
he was aloof diverging in a 4x4
her hair of Medusa in his fingers tangled,
smiling Hercules loved and wrangled;
Chimeras distracted him sly to finagle,
Tartarus was a sauce spread on a bagel;
sneaky Harpies stole his yummy breakfast;
as he visioned a Naiad of an aquatic caste.
An austere philosopher drinks coffee,
in a vast sincerity, stirs in a toffee;
Gorgon rushes threatening, with a chomp,
chews his hair relentlessly in a romp!
With half hair desperate, prays to Apollo
his students God Dionysus, in bars follow;
wise Apollo sends Hebe to treat him but
she offers him wisely a marine hair cut.
Now the philosopher becomes Theseus,
fair Ariadne is a Nymph, blessed by Zeus;
her mane tangled in his tips, he thinks;
an iced espresso with a straw, he drinks;
His 4x4 takes him to a temple of Poseidon
while in air epic comes, music of Haydn;
Medusa's hair waves on his windshield,
her Siren song enfolds him, on Attica field.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Keeping Secrets And Continuing To Love
i keep the secrets. They are meant to be kept,
like moles inside our thighs
those that stain our bellies but
they are those, these secrets,
that make us alive. You will never know them.
They are secrets and they are meant to be kept.
Like treasures. They glow before my eyes,
when you are not around, as i open my chest
and one by one i touch them
account for them and kiss them with my lips.
These secrets. These make me alive.
For the coming years. When i am with you.
You will never know them.
They feed on me and I feed on them.
Everyday. Every moment, when i am about
to die and surrender to the ghosts of my
emptiness.
I will let you go for a while. I tenderly sleep
with my secrets in bed. I cup them with my hands
like water to my mouth. I hug them with my arms.
I lay my heavy legs on them. They make me alive.
Even without you. I put them back on my chest.
Inside the fifth chamber of my heart.
Inside the tiniest neuron of my brain.
Inflatable. Indestructible. These secrets.
These are the ingredients of my life.
When you will know them, if you insist,
and really insist, and i advise you to
please do not persist, when you know them
at first glance, like Medusa's glance,
when you look at them and understand
you will turn to stone. And i too will
turn into a serpent, now, Medusa's slave.
Unravel them not, therefore. We must live.
This normal life. Pretenses and Defences.
Walls and Fortresses. Love and Secrets.
Understand them not. As I too must.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tempora Mutantur
'The world is dull,' I cried in my despair:
'Its myths and fables are no longer fair.
'Roll back thy centuries, O Father Time.
To Greece transport me in her golden prime.
'Give back the beautiful old Gods again
The sportive Nymphs, the Dryad's jocund train,
'Pan piping on his reeds, the Naiades,
The Sirens singing by the sleepy seas.
'Nay, show me but a Gorgon and I'll dare
To lift mine eyes to her peculiar hair
'(The fatal horrors of her snaky pate,
That stiffen men into a stony state)
'And die-erecting, as my soul goes hence,
A statue of myself, without expense.'
Straight as I spoke I heard the voice of Fate:
'Look up, my lad, the Gorgon sisters wait.'
Raising my eyes, I saw Medusa stand,
Stheno, Euryale, on either hand.
I gazed unpetrified and unappalled
The girls had aged and were entirely bald!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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All The Woman
Dont walk crowded streets
Choose every dream from a magazine stand
I dont buy into that
All day tv shows
Sell their souls just to make living easy
I dont buy into that
I dont need satin and lace no no no
Ill bring a smile to your face
Ill never be a fire but I will be the flame
Ill never be a diamond but Ill never be fake
No Ive never been a winner but I still play the game
Cant you see this is me
Im all the woman that I wanna be
Good times cant get enough
Life can be tough but its all for a reason
I sure buy into that
Life goes around and around
We seek what we found cause its all an illusion
I sure buy into that
I know the waters of fate
Will keep on flowing my way
Ill never be a fire but I will be the flame
Ill never be a diamond but Ill never be fake no no
Ive never been a winner but I still play the game
Baby cant you see this is me
Im all the woman that I want
Ive never been afraid of myself
I dont buy into that I dont buy into that
I dont wanna be nobody else I dont buy into that I dont buy into that I dont buy into that
Ill never be a fire but I will be the flame be the flame
Ill never be a diamond but Ill never be fake oh no no no
Ive never been a winner but I still play the game
Baby baby cant you see that this is me Im all the woman that I want all I wanna be
Ill never be a fire but I will be the flame be the flame
Ill never be a diamond but Ill never be fake oh no no no
Ive never been a winner but I still play the game
Cant you see this is me
And Im all the woman that I wanna be
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tut and Sigh
Your ice-cold eyes and plastic kisses
display your contempt for me.
I don’t know why I tolerate you,
you’re such a misery.
Your continual moans and groans
bring deafness to bear.
The Medusa I would rather face
despite her stony stare.
Enough’s enough, time has run out,
I’m off to watch paint dry.
This is far better than seeing you
and hearing your tut and sigh.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The New Stone In The Hallway
what he did
was indeed notorious
hiding himself
on different names
using his
expertise
on hurting
an innocent bystander
like you
what adds injury to
insult is when you
meet him
he is as gentle as
a lamb
coy as a puppy
at your back
he is the fire dragon
by which if you
are careless enough
you get burned
in seconds
i've heard him
laugh
in one of his
common
occasions
if only
he had known
that you are
descended from
the lineage of
Medusa
he could have
not
turned into
a stone
as he
deserves it
so
he gazed at you
fearlessly
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Shrink And The Brink
he has always an explanation for what we feel
what we are he says have roots and he can always trace
the reasons and from where we must listen
and then we can start living whole again
he knows how shattered are we and he has always
his incantations: Freud says this and Jung and Erica
and Erickson, and Watson and Pavlov
i sit on the couch and we keep on talking
i am in a trance and i go back to my childhood
and there he was the hand guiding me in this play
a reenactment that points where the real problem lies
incontinence, instability, bed wetting, sexual fantasies
unsolved fixations, the phallus and the vulva,
the fingertips and biting of the nails
slip of the tongues, he is so unforgiving
and then he scribbles a lot of things on paper
prescriptions for the day: a stroll on the beach,
a conversation with someone who died
a journey to a dream, a soliloquy, a dialogue
of the spirits of the trees and the mountains
the sea goddess, the nymphs on the flowers,
the fawns and the gorgons, the dragons and the cyclops,
medusa and the stones, i have all them in mind
my hands tremble, my feet are shaky
and here comes the shrink handing me the tablet
and the drink: you just don't die, you suffer, you must
embrace divine light, and be patient, prostrate,
sleep more on the couch, follow my hypnosis.
i like the composure of the shrink,
he is patient with my pretenses, ... at the brink.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fire Ferocious
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
You show no mercy – no regard:
A writhing army uncontrolled.
At least you don’t discriminate,
Selecting to exterminate:
All dealt with equal pain untold.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
In time of drought you run amok –
An open chimney of the land.
Prefer to scorch than suffocate:
In blinding zeal, incinerate
To blackened vista now unmanned.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
Destruction be your only goal
For you to vent your jealous wrath
On gentle life with caring soul
And human victims to console:
As you are none, but psychopath.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So there it is – you are but flame:
Reacting gases to adorn –
With orange flicks of flailing arms,
You’re flaunting your demonic charms!
Now leave us for bereaved to mourn.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So many lives to claim.
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Thessaloniki
Who would that be with the scaled tail?
A Gorgon maybe, or a Medusa?
A precognition of a roughened wild sea,
a challenge to any nautilus wail,
or a dithering of a lonely soul's plea?
She raises her hand to grasp of the side,
your boat's that edges away, breast rail,
she woes to thee to adherent abide,
your empty soul's anxiety's lone trail,
many that tried to disclaim her - died.
It could be a mermaid that wanders
on every ship's route or path surmised
to ask of how her dear brother died
and she, her once royal pretty fingers
lifts, to ask: Is king Alexander alive?
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Freud was a hero. He descended to the Underworld and met there stark terrors. He carried with him his theory as a Medusa's head which turned these terrors to stone.
quote by R.D. Laing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wanderer
I saw the sunset-colored sands,
The Nile like flowing fire between,
Where Rameses stares forth serene,
And Ammon's heavy temple stands.
I saw the rocks where long ago,
Above the sea that cries and breaks,
Swift Perseus with Medusa's snakes
Set free the maiden white like snow.
And many skies have covered me,
And many winds have blown me forth,
And I have loved the green, bright north,
And I have loved the cold, sweet sea.
But what to me are north and south,
And what the lure of many lands,
Since you have leaned to catch my hands
And lay a kiss upon my mouth.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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I'm Flying Free
Let the clouds sway with the wind,
Let there dance storm like Nataraja;
Let me uproot my soul, from its soil.
I cherish to fly from this fever,
From the weary way, of my trodden earth.
I'm a spirit who can't love, hate
Can't stick to my hackneyed soul...
Take me away away from this world,
where hatred has Medusa's head,
And the Dragon's breath...
I smell my dripping blood.
Trust won't search another,
Trust, leaving nothing, no
Bones, ashes, the burnt blood
Nothing...I'm flying free!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Art of Face
Whether pretty, whether ugly
Whether smooth, whether wrinkles
Strong character or average standard
Face is the front line charisma
Whether wall, whether comical
Whether mugged, whether candid
Trained facial, natural pose
Face is the shadow of world
Raising bow, twitching nerves
Blushing cheek, glittering sweat
Curving lips, mocking tongue
Face is emotion expression
Whether poker, whether joker
The fierce tiger, the cute doll
Sometimes impress, sometimes deceive
Face is the image of mind
Plastic surgery, covering veil
Forged by time, painted by culture
The beauty of Helen, the curse of Medusa
Face is the mask of creature
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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We are a spectacular, splendid manifestation of life. We have language.... We have affection We have genes for usefulness, and usefulness is about as close to a "common goal" of nature as I can guess at. And finally, and perhaps best of all, we have music.
Lewis Thomas in The Medusa and the Snail (1979)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gifts Of Medusa...
we may think that those she turned
to stone
hate her, but how do we know?
we haven't hears yet
any stone talking?
sometimes i wonder
stones are happier for whatever happened
i need to know those stories before
the turning
for sometimes i think
that Medusa is a gift, there are those
who, in reality, have become stones
but never really come out
in the open.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Gift Of Medusa (clerical Correction As Requested By Candice Salazar, , , Thanks)
we may think that those she turned
to stone
hate her, but how do we know?
we haven't heard yet
any stone talking?
sometimes i wonder
stones are happier for whatever happened
i need to know those stories before
the turning
for sometimes i think
that Medusa is a gift, there are those
who, in reality, have become stones
but never really come out
in the open.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For love I, too, could die (she said) nor fear it,
Such love as some of the dead queens have had
Whose sorrow matched their beauty. I could bear it,
And I think die too, to have been so glad.
With the sweet wonder in a great light lying
I would not e'en upbraid the deadly dart,
But gazing in the eyes of my Love, dying,
Passion my beauty in his aching heart.
Beyond the shadow of my own renewal
So to have set my beauty like a flame,
Quivering as Helen's — ah! that Trojan jewel,
Where all love's pride and sorrow has a name —
I, too, would take time's grandeur to the dust,
And haply in Hades smile as lovers must.
poem by Robert Crawford
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