Enûma Eliš (edit 1 Leanne, Philatone)UPDATE tectak

[tectak]

Enûma Eliš (edit 1 Leanne, Philatone)
 
When high heaven yet was named, When high heaven yet UNnamed...surely. Otherwise we are in a very indecisive time-warp...
and the waters weren't yet tamed,
then from chaos all was claimed, The "then" is the first victim
of L1. Better maybe" from out of chaos, all was claimed" but confusion follows....at least, for me.
and molded to their great design. Whose? Who are they, you do not say
Imposing order from on high, Editing Cont'd. I know this is Enuma Elis from back some, yes? I thought then and wonder now, why the Seven Tablets are not somehow "forming" the piece...and f they are, why can I not see it. I ask because I feel it is in danger of rambling. The links in the words of "primary intent" seem tenuous. Example. What connects the Creation, the infinite perpetuity of truth, and that "to act is sin, to sin to die". If there is a connection it must be obscure...and as you know, I don't do obscure
though truth was always there,
arrogant power their reply,
in truth, they did not care.
“To act is sin, to sin to die.” A little trite and though I hesitate to say it, "arrogant power" is NOT a reply...nor does it in any way relate to the quoted trite-ity ( and if that ain't a word it should be)
-----------------------------------------
Insanity sleeps next to my feet, now we are off. Like it because it is steering me somewhere,
as my hands seek to avoid the humidity...then leading me somewhere
from my tears as they seep through these pages, then dropping me off.
molding words into blackened obscurities; Molding is getting overused
stealing away the only distraction in this
my unjust and shameful exile. Now, this is Erthona-speak. I have arrived at the station on the same train as you...damn it, for a while we were in the same carriage...but then you got off and let the train pull out with me still on board. I just cannot get how an "exile" can be described as "shameful" except by opinion...whereas unjust is a known. These two descriptors do not sit well together.
Such is the price for aiding the willfully ignorant
who see help as bane; I get the veracity here and kind of like it for its novelty. Again, though, I see the King naked. In isolation this is a great lament and an equally good observation at the contemporary human level...as teachers, lecturers and husbands know only too well...but why is it here? Will all be revealed? We shall see. Just one thing. "bane" worries me...there are mixed and diverse meanings. Do you mean poison?
perceiving what I gave freely as a treasure to be stolen ...in which case I call disconnect. Sorry about this, but I have read it right through at least ten times. If the WI see your help as bane, why the hell would they steal it? Better "...perceiving what I gave freely, as a poisoned draft to be poured away". NOW...listen up...because this is the Grammar Police. I take you to task. Did you mean "...perceiving what I gave freely as a treasure, to be stolen..." OR "...percceiving what I gave freely, as a treasure to be stolen..." Haarrrruuuummmmph  
and my only reward for giving away my heart
is their nescient contempt hidden behind a smile. Why "nescient"? It's OK. I get it but I am unsure why their contempt is ignorant....ignorance is its own justification, surely. I would look for a word meaning "ill-conceived" or at least puerile.
Depression, Dread, my old friends have come to call on me again, Wha...who...is this the same poem? Which tablet is this? Oh...I am now remembering things. Is the original Enuma E somewhere on this site. I am getting all deja vu-ey. Ah...just spotted the link to original but it no work
as though they had been away, on some midsummer’s holiday.
Actors they are. Pretending they are not,
just as surely as I, locked
in this cell of the ever enduring unendurable. Clumsy in structure. A bit of tautology never hurt anyone. Drop the "ever". I know, I know...enduring only means "for a long time" so you thought you would stick ever in front to indicate infinitely enduring. Try "abiding unendurable"....or not
They are more alive than my supposed friends.
Old friends forced through obligation to visit,
so they will not appear to themselves, as evil;
or worse yet, unkind. As leanne might say....existential lines. The personal wins over the hearsay...even in a court of law. The last half dozen lines confirm the existence of the writer as the character. I do not know if that is a good thing or nay....because when erthona comes out to play we all end up playing hide-and-seek in the columnar Parthenon....and so it is here. Help. I thought Sicyon was a City. Erthona will know and I shall be better informed.
As sacrifice to the altar of Sicyon do they come, benumbed. See above. Who was Sicyon? A friend of Sylvia, what is she?
Did I ever know them? It is hard to imagine; More to follow. I need to look up Sicyon.
we have so little in common.
I often wonder this, as a pale face floats in front of me,
murderous dark bloodied lips flapping,
as though air moving in slow motion
as it leaves the thick overlapped rubber exit of a balloon.
I would as soon not watch these grotesques expunge their senselessness,
but I am fascinated by their inane hollowness
and in my loneliness I cannot force myself to turn away.
It has always been my greatest failing, so say the other gods.
I am Prometheus and they are my eagles, my crows.
I watch their liver coated viper’s tongues dart
in and out of their mouths; an adder tasting air;
testing to see which way the wind blows.
Come on then you belly crawlers,
would you sink your stainless swords into me,
so that you might bloody them like an unworthy knight
taking a virgin kneeling at prayers from behind,
that he might on the morrow claim his spurs?
What delusion! Do you think you can take what I choose not to give?
I gave you my heart, the fire that burned in my breast,
a pearl beyond price, a gift beyond all sacrifice.
Was that abscission not sufficient to calm your greed,
did it not for even a minute satisfy your desirous need?
Ah, I see. You have not the will or the courage to use it.
Did you not realize in your avarice that a fire must feed?
Yes, I see the fear in your eyes, you will not risk
giving it what it craves, for fear of its reprise: a sacrifice
of your prejudices, your fearful misconceptions, your self-deceit,
your taboos, tightly held dogma, your false remembered heroic feats?
You fear it will pull down the defenses that keep
you from seeing things as they are,
and not as you would have them be.
 
Did you think the power of a god came without price?
Have you not heard the old adage,
“with knowledge comes responsibility”.
Did you think it a choice?
When this fire burns, it consumes the dark deceit
so that it might illumine the multicolored truth
that sparkles ‘round and through all that is,
all that has been or ever will be, me and you,
with all veils of delusion striped away,
falsehood forever held at bay.
Color is the Lord Shiva of perception,
he is the destroyer of the black and white reality;
truth destroys the simplistic and the easy,
and it does so with an overawing finality.
Truth will freeze your soul for it makes clear
that all actions have unintended,
unexpected and far ranging consequences.
So if you would act, you cannot seek refuge in ignorance.
You will never again be held blameless,
for in everything, to act is sin!
"For him who need never atone,
let him then cast, the first stone."
Sad, sad, I pity you, for you are truly pitiful.
Seeing the world from such narrow minds.
Here then, give me back my wild little pet,
give me back my beloved, my life, my honor.
Here in my heart she will feed and be content.
Now go away my picayune friends,
you are not yet ready for such wonderment,
or such a burden as this gift portends.
For the moment, the only light you will know
will be the monochrome of reflected light,
ghosting over the landscape of darkness,
this, the only light to guide your sight.
For the moon reflects the distant sun,
but is the sun no more than this,
that you and the truth are one.
For you who see only in black and white,
cannot comprehend the limits of your sight.
Go on then, my poor scared children,
scurry now, back into your own dark night!
 
"Old gods know not death, they merely go to sleep,
underneath the ocean, down to the deepest earth.
Be careful then when in sin a great noise you make.
You never know just what you do,
or who you might awake!"
 
 
erthona
 
 
original
 
©2012-2016

More to follow unless you say no more[/b]