Tuesday, April 16, 2013

The Odyssey





                                   I.
A hero, a story, his name is unimportant
for the arch of his journey follows the same curve
that the Gods and nature dictates
still we listen, for the hero's story is everyone's tale.
I pray my Muse will kindly guide me
my capricious mistress, forever shoe shopping.
Shoe shopping?  Like what is with that?
No greater mystery in all the universe
than a woman's fascination with footwear.
But whoa, I digress and my words meander
from the tales of brave Ulysses
the man who sacked the holy citadel of Troy
and who's exploits across the wine dark seas
on that long journey away and back home again
is the story I come to share with you.



                                    II.
The sea rises, swells and sways
the ship's prow points up
-and falls away
On the restless waters, crest capped with foam
the crew keeps singing
we're going home, we're going home.
And Ulysses suffers from the worst earworm ever
he would gladly dash his head against the rocks
just to be free of their monotonous tune
but with a sigh of resignation, Ulysses knows their inspiration.
Yes, they are going home, back home from the war.
Combat can bring some to sainthood
in between haunted dreams they find the warrior's calm
and know they need not prove anything to anyone -ever again
though anger management is impractical at best
as chaos whirls all around on the bloody battlefield
where the chance of random death runs high
and hero's names are lost to time if his other comrades fall.
No longer at war Ulysses swore to all the Gods
he would do his best, never to harm a living soul.
Except maybe to bitch slap that Agamemnon once
righteously smack down the king responsible
for so many wasted years and lives
for choosing war first, instead of last
then , maybe then, Ulysses felt he could find
the real peace that comes after the armistice.
Yes peace, illusive peace,
though he would settle for peace and quite
desperate for anything to stop the crew from singing.
In dark humor Ulysses calculated if sacrificing one
would be worth avoiding a migraine later.

                                    III.
Eight days and many leagues later
the sea and wind seem unfamiliar, odd and strange.
Ulysses had commanded under pain of death
no one asks again -"are we there yet?"
An island appeared where there should have been none
Brygos the helmsman cried out-"let's stop
land ashore and ask for directions".
Ulysses was thunder struck and then thundered out
"Directions? Directions? Do you not trust me?
As your leader and captain of this ship?"
The crew's silence spoke volumes
Ulysses relented, "suit yourselves" grumbled.

                                    IV.
The beach sand was soft and fine, the sun warm
and it made Ulysses drowsy with nostalgia
besides he wanted no part of the argument brewing
that was developing like a summer storm
between the head strong factions of the crew.
Ulysses only crave a nap and he was so willing
to slumber as other tried to decisively choose
which way they would go  -up or down the beach
possibly split up or stay as a group, Ulysses didn't care .
If the crew did not trust in his command
then they could muddle  though their own decisions.
Sleep can be so kind.
Awake in the dark of night and unsure of how long he slept
waves of apprehension synchronized themselves
to the continuous pulse of surf on the beach.
The crew should have been back by now
and Ulysses began to regret his vacation from command.
"Like children" he mumbled as he strapped a sword to his side.
In moon light he tracked the footprints until to his horror
he found where the struggle had occurred
and the victor was a giant that dragged in the sand
not a net full of fish but the entire crew of his ship.
Like a shepherd to his flock or even a father to his children
rescue wasn't a question of "if" only a problem of how.
The footprints, three cubits in length, where easy to follow
but soon logic began to sap his courage
a footprint of three cubits meant a height of over twenty
as giants go, this would be a big one.  

                                    V.
As Helios's shield rose just a sliver
as the first rays of dawn cleave sky and land
from high ground Ulysses could spy down
on the shabby hovel, the dismal cave entrance
with littered filth scatter in every direction
this was where the footprints ended,  the home of his enemy.
It stank of smoke and of rotting death
but most of all of sheep -both fleece and offal.
At two hundred paces back from the cave
Ulysses gagged from the stench of the manure .
In the darkness of the cavern came a clamor
that built to a rumble of a terrible noise
to broadcast the emergence into full light
the giant, the giant with only one natural eye
perfectly centered there in his face
one vicious, malicious and hideous eye.
So fearful a face, Ulysses forgot
he was facing a foe six times his height.
The giant, the Cyclopes, not fully awake
comically stumbled like a tottering child.
Now seemed the best moment to launch an attack
Ulysses drew in a deep breath of resolve
and drew from the sheath a sharpen blade
there was no further delay, fate turns on moment.
Ulysses screamed his savage war cry
racing down from the high ground
sword over head, screaming, screaming
loud enough to shake the walls of Troy
fearsome enough to make men wet themselves
the Cyclopes was caught totally by surprise
but fate is whimsical and fate is cruel.
Ulysses step in some muck
as slippery as grease and as thick as gruel
and the warrior lost his footing, tumbled and fell
only to roll to the feet of the Cyclopes
The irony and humiliation so obvious
you didn't need two eyes to see it
the Cyclopes roared with laughter
and in one swift motion scooped up Ulysses
as if he was stray kitten caught by the scuff of the neck.
Brave Ulysses, mighty and respected commander of men
right there and then, helpless and held high in the air
at the mercy of a monster with a cold nasty stare. 
The Cyclopes laughed again  and said in superior tone
"I've been expecting you, let me show you my home"
and into gloom of the cave, the Cyclopes carried our hero.

                                    VI.
The Cyclopes' grotto was groaty dank place
what it lacked in light it made up in putrid orders
this would have been a fair final punishment 
for souls too wicked for Hades to keep.
By the dim flicker of lamps burning sheep fat
Ulysses could see something in the play of shadows
but it was more a feeling, like a blind man touching
and by touch and feel he might surmise and suspect
the reality of the world around him.
Into a huge holding pen Ulysses was thrown
and what was scary, he knew he wasn't alone
The eyes take a little time to make the best of faint light
but there in the pen, mixed in with some sheep
was the rest of his crew, shocked and grief stricken.
Quick as he could Ulysses took count
there was Periscus. Brygos and Damon the fair
next, Dionysios the apply named drunkard
Gallus, Hermon and in the darkness he heard Homer
then Medus, Acamus, Tiro and ..... before he could say
the names of the missing, Gallus spoke up
"they are now gone, taken for dinner".
Those words were a hammer blow
that nailed the truth of the circumstances deep.
At a leisurely pace the Cyclopes ambled over
drinking a large amphora of wine, that was small in his hands.
The sun by then probably had just cleared the horizon
and honest men barely started their day of labor
but the Cyclopes already had the drowsy intoxicated look
of the pugnacious drunk filled with bluster and violence.
His gaze was straightforward, right at Ulysses
and after long loud belch he began.
"The Gods can do anything -can't they?
and you drunk on virtue
here to save your friends
-they said you would come,
pull them out of this fine mess
in one epic act of heart and mettle.
But you didn't think you'd end up with them.
Maybe now you're hoping the Goods will save you
Maybe the Gods can't do everything".
Then he vomited up some sour old wine
and bits of his last meal of sheep and of men
recognizable parts of men that Ulysses once knew. 
The Cyclopse amused with his own musings
concluded his speech with closing loud belch
and tried to drain the amphora of its last lonely dregs.
The empty clay jar yielded nothing
and the Cyclopes took that as provocation
as he smashed it against the wall
with such force shards rained everywhere.
If the Cyclopes was the height of six men
and the volume of a score or more
the lout could drink more wine than a fleet
of sailors returned to port, after months out on the waves.
Drunkenness is a two act play
a stumbling comedy that progresses into tragedy
and the pending tragedy was about to take stage.
The Cyclopes opened the pen door part way
reach in with a clumsy grab, Ulysses's crew knew the drill.
They clung to corners and push the sheep forward
but the Cyclopes had marginally sufficient wits
to tell which was which and who was who.
"You'll not fool me again this morning".
And that's when the giant's hand found Dionysios
once one was trapped in the grip
the tactics switched, defense turned to offense
-to attack the arm pulling away their fellow crewman.
It was a desperate effort, filled with feral fury
and totally futile as the Cyclopes flicked them off like fleas.
When the door slammed shut, Dionysios was beyond help
the bars of the pen that held the others in
might as well be a divide as wide as the River Styx.
Dionysios loved his wine and song
and with a drink or two was a friend to all
he did not screech in terror but faced fate audaciously
spitting in his tormentor's eye and cursing brazenly
loud, bold and vulgar, helpless but not afraid.
In a single swift move the Cyclopes snapped in two
a man, a man that was better than most
and ate him in a few ferrous bites.
If hearts are broken over calamity and murder
they are also inflamed to rage over cutting remarks.
As the Cyclopes licked his fingers dripping with blood
he curtly said "delicious, very much like kidneys but
instead of the tang of urine" then paused for dramatic effect 
"It was the tang wine vinegar" he then smacked his lips.
Even among harden veterans of war
those who already intimate with senseless slaughter
never before did their blood boil hotter.
Before a single word was spoken
before the Cyclopes staggered to bed, to sleep off breakfast
before another moment passed
Ulysses swore the next act of this play
would be revenge, penned by his very own hand.

                                                VII.
It was not a time for recriminations
it was not a time to say I told you so
The men Ulysses had, had to be braded together
had to joined in lockstep and rank
formed in the line of a Phalanx
they already had a reason to fight
they were all in , to kill the Cyclopes.
The walls of the pen were a mesh of large logs
separated by very small spaces, too small
for even a boy to crawl through.
Inside the pen where only the sheep and the men
and the filth they both create together.
Not much else, truly not much else at all
On the  floor, just outside of their stockade wall
there laid, several sharp shards of hard fired clay
This morning's amphoras where of a fine vintage wine
and the ceramic vessels made sturdy and strong.
Damon the fair, lanky and thin reached through the bars
and dragged back in a few pieces sharp and long.
They then had weapons, though not to be ungrateful
they were not very good ones, a sharp edge here or there
does not make a sword or spear.
"Not sword or spear but maybe a tool" Gallus said
"A tool, a tool, to build a mightier device of death"
Gallus, the ship's carpenter began to explain.
Out the minds of many come the best ideas
Ulysses took these treads, he the master at the loom
brought them together into a woven pattern
and discovered they had maybe one chance
where before they really had none.
From their prison walls they found one loose log
long and straight and not that thick around
it was their first stroke of good fortune
the first time the dice had rolled in their favor.
As loose as the log was, it remained only potential
the task at hand took the total effort of all
to the point of exhaustion until the log came free.
Then the work, with the shards of broken pottery
the cold blooded and calculating craftsmanship
of turning ordinary objects into weapons.
The men worked in the quiet determination
fueled by fear and furious rage.
The missing log didn't create much of a gap
it was fitted in between two massive posts
the vacant space, two to three hands wide
far too small for a grown man to pass through
but Damon was a youth not fully filled out
his body was like the spindly spear shaft .
From Damon's mind his thought took voice
"I think I can, I'm sure I can, slip through that breach"
This add an extra dimension to the battle plan
if Damon could get out and open the pen
they could kill the Cyclopes as he sleeps.
The weapon they fashioned was a sharpen stick
that they planned to jam right into his eye.
Any man of war knows the advantage goes 
to the side that attacks in an ambush.
There was no way to tell time except by a guess
and they guessed it was almost mid day
for this plan the tide was leaving, they had to hurry
as though they were in a race with Mercury.

                                    VIII.
With the slick and the slime of the disgusting ooze
that lined walls and the floors of their prison
Damon's thin body was slathered thick
until he was as slippery as a frog in pond.
Once in place Damon squeezed part way through
then the others pushed firmly, gently
so not to crack or break the poor boy's ribs.
Halfway in, he was tightly trapped
unable to move or breath, in a gasp he said
"there's no turning back, push without mercy"
 and they did, without any regard to Damon's ribs.
There was the smallest movement, the tiniest shift
and in an instant Damon popped out the other side
tumbled to the floor and wheezed for a lungful of air.
Damon smiled in self satisfaction then shared his private joke
"Look close a miracle, you see a man born again".
He was in pain but could stand and walk
Ulysses and his crew thanked the Gods
once again the dice rolled in their favor
but any gambler is aware that luck is limited
and good fortune only visits briefly.
As Damon was prepared to unlock the latch
the Cyclopes awoke hungover and wrathful.
Survival gives men wings when they need them
Damon ran to the nearest sheltered corner
taking the defensive tactics of a kitchen mouse
using his relatively small size to his advantage.
There was cursing and clatter, and almost comedy
as Damon evaded capture and death.
The men cheered Damon on as he darted about
from refuge to refuge though out the cave.
Finally the Cyclopes on hands and knees, was reaching
stretching his arm  behind the firewood for Damon
the young man was just barely out of touch.
The Cyclops's back was turned away from the pen
his prostrated position was only an arm's length away.
In a stealthy command of hand gestures
Ulysses signal his men to each take their place
to lift up their weapon like a battering ram
to aim the point out through the best open space
and on a quiet count of three, they ram the spike home
In one forceful thrust together
they ripped the Cyclopes a new one.
Skewered from the stern, impaled through and through
the point emerged from the base of the neck
in a froth of choking, gurgling blood.
The dying monster looked back, his single sad eye
 with an expression of pathos and pain
but the captive men had little sympathy to spare.
"Now you know firsthand" said Ulysses said
"Murder like war, so much more difficult
when the tide turns and the other side wins".
Those who have never been in combat
falsely believe that mortal wounds often kill quickly.
When end is so certain, Death seems to takes its time
and strolls over at a leisurely pace to collect next soul.
With justified caution Damon emerged
opened the pen and set everyone free.
And before the light left the eye of the Cyclopes
before darkness and oblivion came to him
Ulysses marched men past the fallen enemy
so the giant's last memory,  here on this Earth
where of the faces of the men who defeated him.

                                    IX.
Back to the ship, back to the journey home
The island faded into the horizon and was gone.
Tiro spoke in boastful moment of hindsight
"We should have waited to stick him in the eye".
In a practical and pragmatic insight Pericus replied
"You take your opportunities whenever you can". 
But it was Homer that was troubled
"What will the world say Greek men?
That we can only by win by sticking the enemy from behind".
Ulysses laughed " It's more important to survive the day
and worry latter what history might say".
"But what will history say ?" Homer frowned.
"Whatever we want it to, because the Cyclopes isn't talking"
And Ulysses gave Homer that look
that said all that's worth saying has already been said.
But Homer could not leave well enough alone and mused on
"Isn't this a story worth telling?
And if we do tell it, shouldn't be true?
Can any story be valid, if the truth isn't whole?"
Ulysses scratched his beard and the rest of the men leaned in to hear
"The truth is nothing more than a bolt of cloth
people tailor it all the time -to fit their needs
As wool is wool, truth is truth
no matter how you cut it".
"I'm not so sure" said Homer
"But would you mind if I wrote down our exploits?"
"Not at all Homer, suit yourself"
and Ulysses and the crew laughed
as the ship sallied on but no one knew where.

 

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