Friend, you have a mind to work,
do you? Could I hire you to clear stones
from wasteland for me- you’ll be paid enough-
collecting boundary walls and planting trees?
I’ll give you a bread ration every day,
a cloak to wrap in, sandals for your feet.
Oh no: you learned your dodges long ago-
no honest sweat. You’d rather tramp the country
begging, to keep your hoggish belly full.
Back with me!
Telemakhos, more sweet to me than sunlight!
I thought I should not see you again, ever,
after you took the ship that night to Pylos-
against my will, with not a word! You went
for news of your dear father. Tell me now
of everything you saw!
Friends, face up to it;
that young pup Telemakhos, has done it;
he made the round trip, though we said he could not.
Well- now to get the best craft we can find
afloat, with oarsmen who can drench her bows,
and tell those on the island to come home.
At daybreak I must go and try my luck around the port. I burden you too long.
Direct me, put me on the road with someone.
Nothing else for it but to play the beggar.
There is your dinner, friend, the pork of slaves.
Our fat shoats are all eaten by the suitors,
cold-hearted men, who never spare a thought
for how they stand in the sight of Zeus. The gods
living in bliss are fond of no wrongdoing,
but honor discipline and right behavior.
I, on guitars and bass…
Son of Laertes and the gods of old,
Odysseus, master of land ways and sea ways,
put your mind on a way to reach and strike
a crowd of brazen upstarts. Three long years
they have played master in your house: three years
trying to win your lovely lady, making
gifts as though betrothed.
Shipmates, grieving and weary though you are,
listen: I had forewarning from Teiresias
and Kirke, too; both told me I must shun
this island of the Sun, the world’s delight.
Nothing but fatal trouble shall we find here,
Pull away, then, and put the land astern.
Let me hear no smooth talk
of death from you, Odysseus, light of councils.
Better, I say, to break sod as a farm hand
for some poor country man, on iron rations,
than lord it over all the exhausted dead.
I, on guitarz.
Odysseus then you are, O great contender,
of whom the glittering god with the golden wand
spoke to me ever, and foretold
the black swift ship would carry you from Troy.
Put up your weapon in the sheath. We two
shall mingle and make love upon our bed.
So mutual trust may come of play and love.
OMG. I sings, too. And guitar and bass. Fates Warning, Iron Maiden hommage.
The wind that carried west from Ilion
brought me to Ismaros, on the far shore,
a strongpoint on the coast of the Kikones.
I stormed that place and killed the men who fought.
Plunder we took, and we enslaved the women,
to make division, equal shares to all.
From 3/3/2008 to 3/2/2010
I posted a new composition every single day, no matter what.
Check back for more music projects currently underway!
