Helen of Troy: Her New Millennium
The beauty's adventures never end . . .
Here stands that same famous Helen of Troy
Who lately fired men and ships, her towers
Forsaken like her promise to prince or king,
For other loves deserted, different desires.
Goddess-crowned, immortal, her beauty beams
Gold on white beaches and fires the waves.
Many seasons have fled, nations have waked
And borne down in flames their extinguished fate,
Yet this same Mediterranean laps her heels.
Still plays her amorous games the disdainful queen.
These were Priam’s daughters, her kitty-girls now,
Bronze-limbed toys, taught love by her cunning tongue
And trained, well-trained, in the girl-arts that please.
A hard mistress is she, a taunter and tease.
Love slaves hard hours to delay the release
That soothes hearts and limbs in needful rest.
Late nights she keeps. Odysseys she dreams,
Snatching sirens to rock with lascivious ways.
Asia taught her Beauty‘s, Greece Desire’s arts,
And all the isles between have buried her mortal dears.
Diadems and dildoes, her token treats
She packs across centuries and seas, her slaves
In tow, harnessed in shiny leather and leashed
By longings more immortal than gleaming chains.
What Venus decrees, be acknowledged our doom.
What if my sisters groan beneath her nightly rod?
We are golden, and our glances shine like song
Spilled from the faithful lips of a Hebrew maiden.
We are made divine, heroines in a war of love,
The triumph of Lesbos through the limitless world.
We girls of myth are now an eternal harem
Subdued, surrendered to Love’s dark decree.
Our princes are dust, blanked-out names in tomes,
Allusions lashed out by Time’s ignorant wave.
That’s Cassandra now, whose soft cries bear out
The certainty of suffering for lust’s release.
She‘ll eat royal pussy, but you’d never believe,
So busy is the queen’s gold phallus between her thighs.
In the clubs watchful Andromache and I await.
Tel-Aviv tonight, stormed by Trojan whores.