The Muses Among Us Still - A poem of creation and beauty.

They say the gods are all dead,
fools that they oft are,
not seeing them all around us
in new, hidden forms.
Like my friends, the Muses,
buried inside new flesh,
wrapped themselves in the mists
of electronic communications
to reach out across vast distances
and tickle out bursts of creativity
with a single image,
a simple question,
or just a comment.

Muses dance along the electrons
using art to inspire art,
each having her own little way
to lift up souls with fingers
that create art themselves.
Hidden amid artists, writers, and friends,
these gals still walk among us,
seeking to enlighten a dark world,
driving off despair with works
they never quite made themselves
but inspired so easily in others.

Strings of Fate they weave with,
like the Norns and Parcae,
dancing the vast, billowing thing
the internet turned into
when the exits combined
off the information superhighway
into a powerful, mighty thunderhead
of creation and discussion
amid the turmoils of a world
that too oft leaves beauty behind
or shelves it in neat niches
that ignore the soul's needs.

Their whispers drive the currents,
hidden under the waves
that others try to batter shores
into submission with daily,
grinding upon the evils they see,
failing to recognize the wonders
under those waves, moving slowly
along the drift and convection coils
that are the foundations of all.
Blinded by their silly convictions,
deafened by mass media's blaring,
too many become mute.

Until the Muses new incarnations,
reach out gentle touches of inspiration.
I know they still exist.
I've felt their touch,
know their secret names,
and luxuriated in the warmth
their souls blaze across cold fibers
until my own spirit ignites,
sending fingers dancing
to their siren song
of comfort and hope.

I will not name them,
for they wish to remain hidden,
but have spoken of them
in verse and prose before.
One deals with promoting art,
another's hand creates to inspire others
to craft their own ways as well,
one merely records the days
with a camera in hand
seeking the tiny things
we speed past so foolishly
to bring us back to Nature.

These are but three,
there are others out there,
and my Muses will not be yours.
For, you see, we each find those ladies
inside some other soul we meet,
sometimes all in one person
others spread across multitudes,
or the hoarde that roams the webs
between souls that turn inward
until their touch germinates thoughts
into blooms of joy and beauty.

Find your Muses out there,
seek them in friends and foes alike,
and let the touch stir your souls
into creating rather than destroying,
you will be better for that moment
when the arts flow out of you
under their gleeful gaze,
as they retreat behind shadows,
into flesh shells once more,
smirking at still surviving
despite reports of their demise.
Satisfied not in adoration or worship,
but just in continued creation,
even if just a child,
holding crayons over paper,
wishing the sky to be
the color they hold.

3September2014 - Dyfedd Rex

He Got "Hulked" - A Poem of the Hallway Social Club

So Hollywood invaded our hallway
in a subtle manner tonight
as life imitated a film
when the Kid got Hulked.

It started out old school
with that "Hurts Donut" joke
that with a simple flinch
evolved into a hilarious moment.

As "Pops" walked slowly by
a little while after dinner
he shot his arm out
just like Hulk bashed Thor.

The Kid was totally offguard
and already caught in mirth
over the no look shot
he was taking right then.

He bounced off the wall
slid down to dirty floor
laughing so hard over it
we all had to join.

It got worse for him
as I quipped the comment
that made us all roar
as he bounced down there....
"He got Hulked".

(18May2012 - Dyfedd Rex)

Revison Idea adding the Naughty to the Ninja-Nuns

I just realized, the Nuns ain't been very "Naughty" yet....does this get it closer? As a composite of the three poems?


In the smoke filled waiting room
where they lounge in only wimples
the Ninja-Nuns play card games
for souls and favors and cosmetics
being banned from any other clothing
by their vows of Nudity taken
in service to Gods better unknown.

Some laze about on soft couches
tickling their sisters' more delicate flesh
others practice the finer martial points
of their Ninja skills over drinks
and some just read trashy novels
about romance and sex in dark corners
squirming in wicked ways until summoned.

This is the Purgatory of Punishment
where rulers are of fissile materials
unless one counts the fusable yardsticks
leaningover by locked exit doors
waiting for the convent bells to ring
signalling the need of their attention
to some knuckles or rounded bottoms.

One great gate leads to Heaven
and opens only when another joins
the ranks and scattered waiting masses
through failing to be all pure
and thus are sentenced for redemption
working to redeem any faith's sinners
creating glowing craters on evildoers' hands.

Another portal is made of brass
still glowing from the fires beyond
and sits ajar quite often indeed
as the sisters sneak into Hell
and enjoy the pleasures of flesh
or cash in chips of souls
won at their wicked gambling tables.

Many others exist to various places
be it Valhalla, Hel, Sheol, Gehenna
and even one to true Purgatory
and a last door to Earth
where most of their work is
and all wish to return to
for life or redemption of others.

All tense up as messengers pass
from the afterlifes to the office
where their Abbess cuts dispatch orders
when not cheating at Mahjong
while seeking sinners to punish
amid the electrons of the web
via her "Ethereal" Net connection port.

Cigars, pipes, cigarettes and huka stems
the lasses trade about while waiting
to teach others that only they
can be "Naughty" all the time
and chastise any who dare try
to match their debaucheries on Earth
and disturb their feast of sin.

(30Apr2012 - Dyfedd Rex) - part of a continuing series, perhaps.

Don Juan vs. the Naughty Naked Ninja-Nuns

With a flick of the thumb
cards riffle out on the table
the players relaxing for a while
their wimples pushed back off hair
left mussed and really charged up
sipping Gin and Tonics while playing
a game named for the booze.

When enters from Hell's broken gates
that wicked libertine of worldly renown
the man from the Iberian Peninsula
seeking more wenches to be remade
as notches in his notorious belt
and thinking these sultry sinful sisters
might just fill that bill nicely.

Now these were no mere mortals
yet not raised up to goddesses,
still to dare make a pass
at Naughty Naked Nuclear Ninja-Nuns
is not something I would recommend
heed this tale to understand why
oh secret reader of perverted tales.

Now Don Juan made his offers
not to one at a time
but all in bed at once
which rarely stirs the ladies hearts
outside certain shady literary genres
which lead to a flat rejection
voiced by all in unison monotones.

But that wicked and horny Spaniard
could not get the message connected
to any part of his mind
and pressed his suit (and body)
over the ladies despite earlier warnings
from demons so dire even Satan
leaves them to their own devices.

Gentle ones close your delicate ears
for that sparked the violence indeed
setting in motion flesh and wood
in the dance school children fear
as knuckles and more delicate parts
were sought out by whistling rulers
striking with Atomic Bomb powered smacks.

Now here is what sets fools
apart from the rest of us,
for this only made our villain
more aroused and determined to succeed
instead of severely psychologically traumatized forever
as he presented his case again
only to offer a new target.

Bared flesh now glistening with exertion
blazed through the air like birds
doing an intricate ballet of pain
as feet and fists lashed out
seeking groin and their foe's backside
specifically the part used for sitting
as highly explosive impact bull's-eyes.

When latter he recovered back below
unable to get off his feet
for the next many long weeks
he found out about modern tech
as the video was endlessly replayed
showing his inglorious and embarrassing defeat
being de-pantsed by Ninja Nuns.

The moral to this woeful tale
is never disturb the naked ladies
for they may be deadly servers
of the Fate you richly deserve
for actions against the fairer sex
that were never solicited or encouraged
thine fundament may indeed be kicked.

(28Apr2010 - Dyfedd Rex)

　

Naughty, Naked, Nuclear Ninja-Nuns! - A poem inspired by a conversation with others

In the darkness the Evil thrived
Hiding amid the clouds of confusion
Raising all Hell over minor issues
Playing havoc with our internal politics
Until the Gods of Last Resort
Unleash their instruments of Sanity Redemption
(or perhaps Tools of Sanity Breaking).

Dancing across the posts amid electrons
Race Naughty, Naked, Nuclear Ninja-Nuns
With those deadly green atomic rulers
crafted with wily intentions for this
the tactical smiting of all asshats
who disrupt the flow of conversations
as dictated by Political Crotchety Fascist.

They leap and bound with joy
happy to be free to punish all
blazing measuring sticks just verdant blurs
as they seek knuckles to rap
or butts to swiftly smack hard
until once more chained amid clouds
behind our teary eyes and shame.

Winds of change will always blow
but deep inside we all harbor
demons in whimples and nothing else
to prance about with whistling sticks
all from stray words dropped here
that stir strange images within minds
made of slime and other media.
(28Apr2012 - Dyfedd Rex)

Thanks to those who stuck these images into my head! Terri, Elysa and anyone else who tolerates me on the Authors Helping Authors group on Facebook.
But they can only take credit for the images, not the slime that came out of my head via fingers and keyboard... blame me for any psychological or psychic damages incurred.