Among the Gorgons that counted three
Touched by comeliness being mortal only she
Beauty that in awe of the universe bowed down
Her glorious sumptuous hair a glowing grace
More exquisite than Aphrodite’s star-studded crown
Pursued and seduced by Poseidon was fair Medusa
The God of the jade seas and cerulean oceans deep
In the sacred temple of Athena
His unrelenting passion for her was consecrated
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It is said in the ancient text she was conceived in murder
When the Titan Cronus drew his father Uranus’s blood, dead, he forever be
The wife of a dark Vulcan Hephaestus, mother to the cherub of love
Legends say she rose from Poseidon’s emerald seas.
From salty heather foam in the waters of Pathos,
That lap the white shores of the isle of Cyprus did she rise
Though Homer on this fact would disagree
Striking jealousy in the hearts of the haughty gods
And filling Adonis eyes according to Greek lore
......
"It's alright to feel behind,"
What they told me when they learned
I had never slept with anyone.
"You're not missing out on anything, really.
Not the electric rush of skin on skin,
Not the satisfaction of man's most primal urge,
Certainly not the burning of carnal fuel
And the fumes that follow,
No, none of that is quite important.
You just keep doing you."
......
What force, what sudden impulse thus can make
The laurel-branch, and all the temple shake!
Depart ye souls profane; hence, hence! O fly
Far from this holy place! Apollo's nigh;
He knocks with gentle foot; The Delian palm
Submissive bends, and breathes a sweeter balm:
Soft swans, high hov'ring catch the auspicious sign,
Wave their white wings, and pour their notes divine.
Ye bolts fly back; ye brazen doors expand,
Leap from your hinges, Phoebus is at hand.
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翻江倒海我为尊,金箍棒下镇妖氛。
腾云驾雾翻四海,火眼金睛辨假真。
取经九九多磨难,初心不缘天命魂。
笑看群魔无生路,斗战胜佛名永存!
every day, i'm heading closer;
life forcing me to push my own heavy boulder.
stuck in an endless loop like sisyphus;
feeling tortured on this earthly abyss.
i did not expect for life to be like this.
I thought you would’ve learned–
all of you at Los Alamos,
and the rest of you
all over the world.
why was my story saved?
why is it told and retold
if not for that?
do you see in it
......
All artists strive to be like the Greats.
No shame in vying to be someone's Van Gogh,
Going, going, gone, Homer
with his Odysseys and Iliads
and to all, a million ears lent.
Just as Romans did to Antony in Caesar.
Shakespeare's sonnets sold out theatres,
but I grasp at the same words as he.
I pin them to the walls.
I paint them on the mirror.
......
"It's alright to feel behind,"
What they told me when they learned
I had never slept with anyone.
"You're not missing out on anything, really.
Not the electric rush of skin on skin,
Not the satisfaction of man's most primal urge,
Certainly not the burning of carnal fuel
And the fumes that follow,
No, none of that is quite important.
You just keep doing you."
......