Easter Day

The cavern of departure lounge,
with sadness and farewell.
The dark unconscious,
unresolved foundations of day.
Threads of Oedipus
and the leavetakings of life,
with Passover lintils of blood.

Then the Other side,
joys embraced, threads joined
a tapestry turned around.
A new beginning,
like computers ikon entry.

The daffodil and crocus show
its colour,
and into bloom
the essence to form,
and shadow into substance
Plato's cave all lit.

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poem by Bernard Kennedy
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I am a ball of it

I’m feelin sick
As I step out

Onto the street
The music helps

But I am all of it
I’m a ball of it

I am homicidal
So sad I am sick

My stomach as hollow
As eyes catchin

My glance
And she said ‘you’re

Goin and gone”
And she’s right

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poem by Hubert J. Humperdink
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Odysseus to Telemachus

My dear Telemachus,
The Trojan War
is over now; I don't recall who won it.
The Greeks, no doubt, for only they would leave
so many dead so far from their own homeland.
But still, my homeward way has proved too long.
While we were wasting time there, old Poseidon,
it almost seems, stretched and extended space.

I don't know where I am or what this place
can be. It would appear some filthy island,
with bushes, buildings, and great grunting pigs.
A garden choked with weeds; some queen or other.
Grass and huge stones . . . Telemachus, my son!
To a wanderer the faces of all islands
resemble one another. And the mind
trips, numbering waves; eyes, sore from sea horizons,
run; and the flesh of water stuffs the ears.
I can't remember how the war came out;
even how old you are--I can't remember.

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poem by Joseph Brodsky
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T6

Oedipus well demonstrated that
since his eyes did not see the truth
then they are of no use and so
he plucked them off their sockets

self-inflicted punishment with
him as judge

faraway from what this college of law
is teaching: this doctrine of self-preservation

due process, and equal protection
the right of the accused to life to lie
the right of his lawyer to lie for him
the poisonous tree and its fruits
benefit him to freedom

justice is a child without a mother
on tattered clothes, foul and begging on the streets

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Surrender

He is tired and now left alone
After the wars he fought
In broad daylight
Underneath the tall building
This is not the war of Achilles
Or Odysseus
This is not the blinding of Oedipus
Of the weakness of Hamlet
This is the war of his own days
Stabs of light
Piercing of dusk
The confusions of twilight
This is the war
Of modern battles fought
Within the lonely rooms
Of the condominium
Where he arrives and departs
Alone
This is the war that he fights
Against himself

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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T5

a day goes beyond sunset
lengthened to a few meters
darkness dances under colored
neon lights
there is more to it even
than what i
in fidelity does: teaching a class
of law going beyond
precarium and mens rea
there was something more
in Oedipus and Antigone
the brooch that he used to
remove his eyes from its sockets
and roam the world as a beggar
holding only a staff and his
empty bowl
because even if he once was
king(destiny toyed what he is)
he sinned, and there is no law that
punishes him

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Implications

such is the meaning
of a rainbow, that when there is rain
and when it stops
and the sun begins to shine
a promise is made, that there will be no more
deluge,

that when the road gets wet
by logical implication
there must have been
rain,

and with too much rain in the forest
you know what happens next
the river shall rise
and bring the flood following
the law that nature
gives us
without any telling,

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hamlet's Departure

'Respiré de ese humo amargo de tu adiòs
Y desde que tù te fuiste yo solo tengo...'.
Mom is always mom. Oedipus started without knowing it.
A murder was on a sunny clobbed paving among olive trees.
An incest was among the walls of dark ash-lar in an old palace.
And the deserted child got lost in the old world
Thinking he had found the new world.
On the ramparts of the castle, in his prince clothes, Hamlet meets his father's ghost.]
The wind blows upon the poor prince of Denmark
Who won't kill his stepfather but all the others.
Hamlet, you couldn't return
Now you can only go away.
*
The quotation is from the lyric 'Camisa Negra'.

poem by Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello
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a Woman talks about her son

a Woman talks about her son
who was her lover,
in a previous life
and it’s as if she
likes the idea.

I wonder if it is fantasy
or reality in her mind
and how she,
get to such a revelation.

To me it sounds too much
like a Oedipus complex
or of somebody that holds
on to her sleeves.

Maybe Freud, Jung and Adler
would have known more
about this type of thing
and would have stated that the man

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poem by Gert Strydom
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But He Has Not Been Tested!

They say he is inexperienced.
They say he does not know how to lead.
Are these things being said out of jealousy?
Because he has clearly superceded those disgruntled...
Who lack vision with their outdated deeds.

And leaders around the world applaud.
And he has yet to take a step inside the White House!
Officially as the President, yet.
Is he too powerful to reside inside?
And over the total world population,
It is wished by the people...
That he meets to lead and preside!

'But he has not been tested! '
Say those who protest.
And yet those labelled terrorists...
Are ready to sit and end all conflicts.
With him they wish a peace to manifest!
And put to rest those with an Oedipus Rex complex!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Know Thyself

at the entrance of all our doors
in our delphis
we put this notice
addressed to ourselves

know thyself

sometimes i wonder
what does this mean?

do i have a self?
have i given it a name?
is the name myself?

i look inside
this self, there is none
it is not me
it is thinking thoughts
not my own
we quarrel

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Riddles. -- 1710

Sphinx was a monster that would eat
Whatever stranger she could get,
Unless his ready wit disclosed
The subtile riddle she proposed.

OEdipus was resolved to go
And try what strength of parts would do;
Says Sphinx, on this depends your fate;
Tell me what animal is that
Which has four feet at morning bright,
Has two at noon, and three at night?
'Tis Man, said he, who, weak by nature,
At first creeps, like his fellow-creature,
Upon all four; as years accrue,
With sturdy steps he walks on two;
In age at length grows weak and sick,
For his third leg adopts the stick.

Now, in your turn, 'tis just, methinks,
You should resolve me, Madam Sphinx,

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poem by Matthew Prior
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A New Patient on the Ward

He told them he was nearly enlightened,
They shook their heads and started to frown -
Any talk of Religion gets them frightened
So they prescribed some drugs to bring him down,

'Perhaps he thinks that he is Jesus
Who walked the waves at Galilee?
The only cure for his disease is
Some anti-psychotics and ECT'

They say he wanted to strangle his sister
Because of some strange Masonic plot,
His father had left him some land and money,
She intended to trick him and swipe the lot! !

He has ideas above his station
And we can't just allow him to walk free,
It's probably due to excessive masturbation
And an Oedipus Complex at the age of three.

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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Dominatrix On The Axis

Work it on a brother, if it works, oh well, then work it on another; Do your snooky shakey shake, show it to your mother.
Dominatrix on the axis climbs the tower of praxis. Momma said daddy plays the lone bone. Work it on a sister, if it works out for her, then work it on her brother. Might want to
watch yourself or they'll work it on your mother.
If this sounds somethin like s-e-triple x,
sailing off without redemption on the good ship Oedipus.
Look beyond these shores, where you won't have to deal with petty, prudishness no more.
Beyond the sea, you could give it all away for a handling fee.
L'l sister could work it, little brother too. If it works pretty good,
Might work it on you, then work your moves on another. But, pretty please, don't ply your shake 'n' bake magic on my old world grandmother.

poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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Eyes & Voices

I
The two eyes emanate rays,
Thought a Greek philosopher,
Who also smelled the Minotaur,
Stinking as he watched an outdoor play.

While the Chorus chanted
And the audience cringed,
Oedipus put out his eyes. singed,
As the meaning was being ranted.

'Mother, may I? ' the theme evolved,
To suggest a thing or two,
Such as the motherly master glue,
And symphonically the cringe devolved.

II
In the desert, my protagonist focused,
The searing heat boiling his head,
Until of dehydration he was dead,

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poem by Stan Petrovich
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A Piece of This

A son trying to help his mother who’s 83 in to the tub to bathe hears words that cut him to his very soul, “You must want a piece of this.” Now, as he hold back his hurt and wipe the spit of his face that his mother had spat on him thoughts begin to race through his mind. How could the woman who gave birth to me think that I would want to do that to her? She comforted me when I was afraid at night. She fed me when I hungry. Yes she was the first woman I loved just like any son would love his mother. But no I have no Oedipus complex. So no I don’t want a piece of that. Wow, this woman is the Grandmother to my son I wonder if I was not here and he was would she say to him “You must want a piece of this.” I know Alzheimer has taken over her mind and she is not the loving mother I once knew but it stills hurts to hear her say, “You must want a piece of this.”

poem by Lore Me34
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Don't Sympathize

Why I detest sympathy
It revives hurtful memories
Those days that are sad,
Let them go with my past.
Don't remind me of my misery
They are now my history
Those friends I have hurt
I am human, I was only wrong
Even Olympus knew no love
Zeus lived in sexual lust
Hera was too jealous
Prometheus should rule Olympus
Zeus should be chained
For goodness sake, let him wail
Tiresias should not be so blinded
Oedipus shouldn't have left
Lius should have abdicated
And his throne coveted,
The Sphinx shouldn't have
had a riddle

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poem by Efe Benjamin
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Sentiment Is Selfish

Sentiment is selfish

Born of blind eyed men

Still boys at heart

Who keep the woman as a 'native'

In a dolls house full of chintz

And floral covered photgraphs

They crave like oedipus

Blind eyed and smothered

For a mothers love

They pin their hopes on

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poem by Yvette Smith
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This Coming Valentine's Day

what can i tell you now?

you always had it in your mind
that i betrayed your love.
i have nothing to say to defend
my own self.
i have long been punished by
my own lingering
loneliness.
i punished myself like
Oedipus.
Blind i walk the lonely alleys
of my life
grappling but still
surviving as i do not wish
to drag this precious life
to my own
self-willed destruction

life has its place

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Egyptology

I am the Sphinx.
I am the woman buried in sand
up to her chin.
I am waiting for an archaeologist
to unearth me,
to dig out my neck & my nipples,
bare my claws
& solve my riddle.

No one has solved my riddle
since Oedipus.

I face the pyramids which rise
like angular breasts
from the dry body of Egypt.
My fertile river is flowing down below-
a lovely lower kingdom.
Every woman should have a delta
with such rich silt-
brown as the buttocks

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poem by Erica Jong
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