Herakles Α - The Suffering of Herakles

One of the things I find most absent in many modern retellings of Herakles*' story is the tragic nature of his path to apotheosis. From his infancy, Hera saw him as nothing more than a fruit of Zeus’ infidelity. Being unable to punish Zeus ( or arguably unwilling,) she took it out on our Theban friend. From the snakes in his cradle to the fugue state making him mistake Megara and his children for monsters and far beyond, the queen of the gods had it out for him for most of his life. This suffering served as a catalyst for Herakles and while he ascended to greatness in spite of it, it ought never be forgotten.

Α - The Suffering of Heracles

Tears roll down my face in fury

Spasms of painful divinity

I died many deaths so far

But there are many more in store for me

Always watched, always plagued

a hero's greatness is defined by his quarry

Take me, take mine, take from me

That which ails me will not be cured by glory

Oh father behold

What, in your absence, your wife has wrought

My love and my children, lifeless ashes

Is this befitting a god?

But mine is not to ask nor complain

Mine is not to think nor ascertain

Mine is not to point fingers and blame

No, mine is to bear, and stay silent in pain

Mine is not the hand but the sword

Mine is not the man but the implement of war

What they will remember- of my glory they'll sing,

But they will try to forget my suffering

*I personally always preferred the spelling of Herakles with the K. This spelling is both closest to the Greek "Ἡρακλῆς" (Iraklis) and is typically how you see it on translations of "Herakles Mainomenos" by Euripedes. Fun fact, the name of Herakles was, according to myth, changed from Alkaios (which means "the powerful one") to Herakles (literally "Hera's Glory/Fame") in order to placate the angry goddess. It didn't work

Still Wandering

Still Wandering

(Still Wandering," the two words that inspired this poem were used in several sources to describe Orestes as he was being driven mad by the Erinyes)

The quiet moments never come

No not for I, Agamemnon's son

Accursed mother and accursed young

I am still wandering on when the day is done

The sisters hound me day and night*

I gave them all that which I had by right

Where is justice for a mariticide? **

Oh how the gods forget the joy in Troy's burning light

Alecto whips and Megaera wails ***

I can't get a moment of sleep

Tisiphone howls of endless suffering

And I am still wandering

Tell me o Zeus on high, what's a son to do?

If not kill his father's adulterer and his murderer too?

Unjust are they who would condemn me

And  so are you

Yet I will not die for your injustice

I will not kneel for you to countenance

Orestes lives in defiance and rebelling

Still wandering!****

*"Sisters" in this line refers to the Erinyes

** mariticide is the murder of one's husband, referring to the murder of Agamemnon by Clytemnestra. Today mariticide refers to most spousal homicide,  doing away with the lesser known uxoricide

*** These three names, Alecto, Megaera and Tisiphone are typically used to refer to the three most famous Erinyes. The inconsistency of ancient texts leaves us grasping at how many Erinyes there were or what was their genealogy.  Contemporaneously, the perception of the "trinity" of sisters is said to originate with Vergil.

**** not being an excellent artist myself nor wanting to leave no imagery, I used an ancient Greek pythos alongside this piece. It's in the creative commons and hey, I imagine a nearly 3,000 year old artist wouldn't be a huge problem in court.

Wettlauf Um Afrika

Wettlauf Um Afrika

Africa is known for its wildlife

But is it attracted or given birth?

When lots are drawn by foreigners

Who is it that decides our worth?

Your map of Africa is very nice

You're not interested in seeing mine

Take a victory lap and claim ownership

Frenchman, Arab, Englishman and kind

It is not that we were born without silver spoons

It is what was attracted by their glow

Brothers became masters and other slaves

Sometimes the Nile floods with bodies,  don't you know?

The rubber man took my hands so I can't salute,

The civilizers left me barren and destitute

Across the gulf my sister was sold as a prostitute

They fight over who's evil was less absolute

What does your guilt even constitute?

Surely men who cherish their good repute

Do you even see me in your charities and institutes?

(Do you even see me in your charities and institutes?)

The desert winds move the sands

They cover what misery was built by hands

You might scramble for Africa

But is it you Africa wants?

Post script - not being neither African nor of any of the colonizing powers, the poem is really more about trying to embody something to understand it. The title, “Wettlauf Um Afrika,” is German for “The Scramble for Africa.” The reason why I decided to use the German title is as a reference to the Berlin conference. Initially this piece was going for my drawer but after being told it’s a strong one, I decided to post it here. Draw your own conclusions and by all means, ask.

Diplomacy - Persian Cats

I'm not a diplomat

I just lie a lot

I spoke the truth

But had to stop

Persian cats don't meow

They're censored very hard

They look but aren't seen

Their survival is a complex art

Persian cats don't hiss

They send missiles instead

And when they bite into your tuna

They'll bite it through proxy bread

Persian cats are not a monolith

And make no mistake

Simply because a cat is Persian

Does not a Persian cat make

And the Persian Cat sat across from the Israeli Cat,

Feeling he could take to no end

Really they are quite similar

In another world they might've been friends