EATING THE KIDS
a) PART I

Rhea!
You and I are going to
have a little talk!

I’m a little concerned
about the Cyclops,
and some Titans,
crowding up our kingdom.

Maybe we should shut
them up in a cave
somewhere,
away from here.

I think as well,
that I should tie you to the bed,
while I have my pleasure.

With tears in her eyes,
Rhea protested,
“Are you demented,
like your father ?”

To preserve my rule,
to which I am worthy,
I put a spell on her, for my sake,
because my sense of security,
was at stake.

So things were done
in this fashion
when Rhea gave birth,
in succession with five children,
I devoured each one.

There is something in the taste,
of my children,
as gods and goddesses,
libertine or chaste,
they had my qualities,
good and bad.

Better keep that knowledge,
with dear old Dad.

Another reason I ate them be,
so that the mortals should only,
make offerings to me!


b) THE DREAM

(Last night
I dreamt,
I am in a well.
In the earth are tunnels,
Catacombs, that go on forever,
the veins of ancient rivers.
Here, no age progresses,
in this dampness.
Where, souls dance,
and whisper warnings
in the dull light ,
of the Sibyls dwelling.

I make a fire,
but, I am not warmed by it.
The flames animated faces,
of all ages and races,
appearing in frightful form.

My ears sting.
from bitter voices,
and weeping processions
behind the funeral hearse.
Blasts from guns and bombs,
impact of metal
and heads through glass.

The vision,
is unceasing.
No stone left upturned.
The painful screams,
from disease,
flesh that is burnt,
and stillbirth.

The old women
are talking in whispers,
that hiss and crackle,
with oral venom,
about the impure
mad men,
Chanting malicious
incantations,
invoking, the dismal
of winters.

On a stake,
a black cloak is hung,
I want to cover myself
from the dampness,
my hand,
passed through the sleeve,
but, the cloth’s defence
is none.
I have no happy relief.
My fingers are bone.......)


c) EATING THE KIDS - PART II

I do not go out much,
since I’ve become a God King.

I don’t touch the earth,
or see the sun.

Mom and I
seem to be out of touch,
and huffs at my lack
of feeling.

She knows I ate the kids,
a secret I try to conceal.

Suspicions were mounting,
when her charms fail to heal,
a home, gloomy
and haunting,and Rhea
from a depressing spell.

I look in my mirror,
I have a morning look
that could kill.

I’m bloated, my skin colour is pale,
and the youthful look in my eyes,
has gotten dimmer.

My face is a hairy mess,
a beast at worst,
and my perspiration,
emits a foul odour.

What’s that I hear,
another baby’s cry...

Rhea’s given birth I fear,
to another God I must
cannibalise.

I rush to the bedroom,
to devour the curse.

Between Rhea’s legs
it lie, in swaddling cloth,
covered with blood
and afterbirth.

What the Zeus is this!

It slid down my throat,
but hit the stomach with a thud.
After, I was constipated
for weeks, and pissing blood.

The irritation reached its peak,
hearing the Curette’s
banging their shields!
Partying like
absent minded mortals,
when they should be
working in the fields.

If they don’t
make offerings to me,
I’ll cook them as animals!

Where’s another bottle of Metis,
this wine will ease my
mental trouble....

I don’t give a fuck,
if every one thinks I’m a prick!

When Gods have wrath,
our despot ain’t subtle.

This wine has turned sour......
I’m feeling sssssick!