Poetry for
People, Dragons
&
Other Unusual Creatures
by Mel West
  |
The
Prometheid
(1972)
Part II
The Dog Killer
Dear
reader, we must rush on and not tarry
To convict you how heavy is truth to
carry,
Which was thrown upon young Eli at the
cornice
Of the highest mountain in this free land.
Alas,
it would only be a bore, I fear,
For you to read. And in reverent respect
For your tired eyes, I shall hence select
Only those incidents which are easy to
read and hear.
Most
mortals in our day and age might doubt
Eli's visions were they to be cast out
Upon a lonely crest holding such fires
As Hellish to cause one's blood to knot
and curdle.
It would seem too much for even the
prophet's girdle
To carry such truths only, to confront the
legion of liars.
Let
us leave the matter as we may
And accept in faith Eli's learned dismay.
Whether you, gentle friend, believe it
happened or not,
Let me proceed to tell of Eli's journeys,
Factual, devoid of similes;
Who among you would envy his lot?
It
came to pass for Eli now,
Wrinkled more with Titan concern on his
brow,
To make haste for his humble town below
To warn his people of the deceit near
To the heartland of our future career.
With god-like speed he left the fire in
the snow.
Dawn
began creeping over the mountain ridge
From whence he came and, as he neared a
bridge,
He looked back to see if the fire still
burned:
Whether the Titan returned to fire
More pages in Hell's great funeral pyre.
Behold! The fire flared! A new page had
turned!
The
Book of Good would continue forever more
To light the winding path by which Eli
fore swore,
Led by the Promethean teacher;
And, as he plunged into the new light,
The sun's great orb soaked the young
proselyte
In golden cinders smelling of heavenly
myrrh.
Dawn
is a pleasant time for one to spend,
As it is the greatest adventure life
attends.
The air is clear and nourishes the breath
And the dewy grass, like tiny bubbled
quilts, nature's sheet,
Spread beyond, before the youth's
cloud-laced feet.
The meadows surely declared his triumph
over death.
The
snow stained crests above the bounding boy
Faded away in the lifting haze. The joy
Within Eli's heart would have melted all
around
Had not the valley's springtime air
caressed
The path written upon Eli's new quest
With dawn's wispy vapors off the ground.
Below
his route showed the ravine and trees
Where his stately tractor wept in the
light hearted breeze.
There were dewy tears over its red metal
hood,
And nearby stood his old buckled pick-up
truck
Which wept too wherever the morning rays
struck.
Behind, near the trees, a timid creature-a
doe-stood.
Eli
descended into the ravine;
The still of the morning was broken by
thumping grouse wings;
And Eli, whose heart thumped too, rippling
his veins,
Marveled at a golden pheasant launching,
From his evening thicket dawning.
The Morning surely claimed these gilded
demesnes.
Eli
jumped into the old truck's rusty cab,
Which still stood proud though aged with
colors drab,
Gleaming in dewy shades of black and grey.
He turned the key; the engine coughed,
then died;
Two more tries; "Awaken!" Eli cried,
But the old truck refused to quicken that
day.
Again
the youth tried, but to no avail;
The truck protested and would not take the
trail.
It, in good foresight, was on a small
rise,
So Eli dug his heels to the crusty earth
And shoved the old truck for all he was
worth.
Success! The frosty wheels turned and
broke their ties.
The
boy jumped into the cab and popped the clutch;
Another pop, a bang, a sputter; it
sputtered so much
Eli nearly gave up hope that it would go.
When all was nearly lost, the slope
behind, the engine purred,
It sighed in the morning warmth and
whirred,
Off to the silent cheers of the
on-watching doe.
The
tiny pick-up truck renewed in the morn
Flew down the wash-board road on wings
born
To arrow through time's sage-brushed
hinterland.
And as it flew droplets shed in its wake
From frog-eyed headlamps which were made
opaque
From the narrow road's churning dust and
sand.
But
soon--an hour hadn't passed – homes were in view
Where life too stirred under roofs
steaming off dew.
As Eli approached the village bounds
And broke over the crest of a tiny hill,
He spied three Lotus-eaters romp in swill
Midst the bone-heaped refuse of their
campground.
Now
Eli was a prudent land, so he thereupon stopped,
Behind his truck he quietly eavesdropped
On the plans the evil creatures were
making then.
He stooped behind a bush for just one
moment
To hear an overheated argument
Where eyes were aglow from a fire roasted
hen.
Eli
could not understand the speech,
For the villains babbled things beyond his
reach.
Changing subjects, ramblings continuously,
Choking and garbled words absurd,
All from smoky breaths and eyes so
blurred;
Besides this they never spoke
conclusively.
Beside
three evil creatures lay a torn lotus bud
With its seeds gone and petals stained
with blood.
Then, absurd as it may appear, he viewed
One of the three eat some of the white
seeds;
Another crammed them into his nose,
causing it to bleed;
And the last smoked them in a wrapping
from a paper feud.
"So
this is why they seek the white lotus;
They plan to eat, smoke and snuff it from
us!"
Thought Eli, as he watched the dreamy eyed
beasts.
He left the Lotus-eaters to their meal
And made haste to his village with the
Promethean appeal:
That everyone must resist those dumb
beasts.
Knowing
that the people may scorn his lot,
He left his truck and in the square sought
To speak to people passing by. He cried,
"Beware, my people, the Lotus-eaters will
come;
Ignore them, for they are thick-skinned
beasts, surely numb,
Who will steal our Lotus before evening
tide".
He
spent some time speaking to passer-bys there,
But just a few heard his words in the
square.
"Ha! Surely you jest!; are you mad?" many
replied;
"You dream, Eli, no such fires
Burn on the mountain. The Promethean pyre
Is but an old myth, a children's riddle,"
they all cried.
"Woe
unto those who fear not my word,
For they shall perish as you all have
heard!"
Eli argued. But to no avail
His warnings were lost and fell on deaf
ears.
As he began to step down, new jeers
Came from the crowd, and they shouted,
"Throw him in jail!"
A
helmeted policeman came from the crowd;
"All right," he said, "Yer talking far too
loud, far too loud;
Be off! Inciting a riot's not allowed!"
"But sir," Eli begged, "I've done no
wrong;
I only warn of deceit coming midst this
throng.
Look! see for yourself, they're now in the
maddening crowd!"
To
be sure, Lotus-eaters had already snuck in
And sowed their deceit midst Eli's
bretheren.
"Look, you!" cried Eli, "You can smell the
smoke
Of their rancid dreams; It will not be
long
Before you shall be pierced by their
stealthy prong.
Their vile breath will destroy the best of
folk.
"Throw
him in jail!" yelled a Lotus-eater.
"Stop, can't you see he's a Lotus-eater?"
Cried Eli in reply. But deceit had been
bred
And the crowd chanted, "Yes, put him in
chains,"
As their faces turned pale from the Lotus
stains,
As they too munched the treasured blossoms
newly shred.
The
crowd lunged forward to bind young Eli.
"Stop!" cried Eli, "You are to be consumed
by a vile lie;
Don't eat the beauty you've cherished so
long!"
The crowd grabbed him while police
whistles rang,
And Lotus-eaters sneered over the harangue
They just sowed and could now reap and,
better still, prolong.
Eli
felt cold clammy hands grip his skin;
He panicked and kicked a man in the shin.
Jumping from the altar of their hope,
He stole the last Lotus from the peddler's
dish,
Fleeing the greed laden grasps to find new
men to fish.
The sewers already began to reek of Lotus
dope.
The
crowd pounded behind his winging heels,
But, being too fast for their deathly
peals,
He reached his truck and sped from the
village,
Leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.
He drove aimlessly, passing a dry lake,
Until the fuel approached "empty" on his
gauge.
He
stopped the truck on a knoll where he saw
A freeway span the horizon. In awe
He looked upon the concrete edifice
Where cars careened in their confusing
haste.
"Ho! What goes on down there?" he
wondered, as he braced
Himself to view a sight gone quite amiss.
For,
peering closer through the smog-stained air,
He saw thoughtless cars wildly bouncing
there –
Not from their own clumsy, careless
crashes,
But from droppings of waste, careless
litter,
That was strewn through the course to
ensnare
The dreamy drivers in painful smashes.
To
make matters worse, dogs were jumping
From cars where nerveless drivers were
dumping
The unwanted creatures to a deadly game,
Where driver and brute were merged into
one
Through the blood-stained bumpers of the
pun.
"My God," cried El, "These drivers are
insane!"
Below
Eli's knoll, he then overheard
More Lotus-eaters reaping the absurd,
For they screamed in delight over the
roar,
Watching the cars grind carcasses to meal,
All the while chanting, "There's another
meal!"
As they cast fish-hooks flying towards the
gore.
Eli
rose in disgust over what he had seen,
And he climbed in the truck to leave the
awful scene.
As he drove away he heard this last cry,
"The Dog Killer, O god, feed us well;
O god, keep sending man's best friend to
this hell!"
Eli parted behind him the great Dog Roast
and smoky sky.
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Part II, "Eli's search for the Funny Bald Men."
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Part IV, "Eli's journey up the river Styx."
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The Prometheid, "The Redemption of Anna."
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The
Prometheid, "Spiteful Timon."
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The Prometheid, "The War".
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The Promethied, "Impressions of Cambria."