This time, Pandora does not open the box.
This time, Pandora is a little girl in downtown Manhattan Who peeks around corners and always gets into places she shouldn’t She is a bright girl, A sweet girl, And so, so, curious Her mother watches her go and thinks That will get her into trouble someday. This time, Pandora darts across the street without checking for safety. She is snagged back from the brink of danger just in time by her mother And is scolded for her rashness. When she turns to look, The spotted cat she saw on the other side of the street ducks into an alley And is gone. She resolves to be quicker next time. This time, Pandora talks to her teachers after class. They discuss everything and nothing The sky, the clouds, last night’s homework Nothing is too big or too small to be pulled apart by her nimble hands. This time, Pandora becomes a journalist Speaking with everyone And never accepting simple answers She catches wind of something strange going on in the city And decides to investigate. This is the box. This time, Pandora’s obscure passion for economics comes in handy As she sifts through file after file Trying to understand where all this new money Is coming from. This is the key. This time, Pandora receives a hand-written note slipped under her door Telling her to stop looking To forget what she’s found And not tell anyone. This is the lock. This time, Pandora does not open the box. so it is, so it goes - Atlas
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Apollo finds live in baby-blue eyes
A smile that could charm anyone And soft laughter He's a great poet who's unlucky in love But Hyacinthus is different They understand each other in a way that none of their other lovers ever did That is, Until a foul wind blows Hyacinthus's way And Apollo is alone again. He brings flowers to the grave sometimes Blue-purple and lovely And tries to ignore how quickly They wither away. bleh - Atlas Achilles cradles Patroclus
On a blood-soaked battlefield But there is no river for him to fight this time Only sand, oil, and lead In another life, perhaps They'll get it right And wake up together on a peaceful morning But not this time. hm - Atlas By the time the grim reaper takes my hand
And leads me to the great beyond He'll know me well My smile, my laugh, my angry tears Every color I have used on my canvas of a life No matter how unfinished it is When the paint is finally left To dry. Hmmmmmm - Atlas Zeus always manages to lose his wedding ring
At night, on the train, in a cab Hera says nothing, of course But somehow The ring always ends up back on Zeus's nightstand In the morning. not sure if I like this one as much as the other ones but shmeh - Atlas Prometheus downloads college textbooks
In his spare time And uploads them to the internet Free of charge. It is too late for him His debt will swallow him eventually Tearing him apart piece by piece Inch by inch And just as soon as he thinks he might be free he's ensnared again But Knowledge should be free. He knows this. So he breaks another law Clicks another button Saves someone else a little bit more From his fate. we all need a Prometheus in our lives - Atlas Echo likes Narcissus a lot.
He's beautiful, of course But there's a passion in his movements When he dives into the water during a swim meet Or the way that his nimble fingers dance along the slender neck of the cello He managed to make her laugh on the worst day of her life by complimenting her dress (It was the same color as his eyes) She has tried to tell him this But the words die in her throat as soon as his sharp green eyes land upon her So instead she joins the endless crowd With their mindless praise And slowly Fades away Into nothing. hmmmm - Atlas Sisyphus does not have enchanted chains to shackle Thanatos this time,
So instead he evades he l i f t s his skin Erases the worry and the laughter from his face Erases all the life he’s lived And by doing so the threat of death (But not for long Never for long.) Sisyphus cannot trick his way back to life this time So he settles for getting as close as he can to death Without dying And yanking himself back from the edge As though it could possibly make him forget That a shady stranger he’s known all his life Was heading this way The drug-induced dreams give way to nightmares in the end But he forgets it all just before waking And does it all over again. A rough draft - Atlas When Pygmalion holds Galatea's hands
For the first time They are so light He wonders if they are still hollow inside Wonders if she really has a heart Or is tugged along by the silent strings Of Aphrodite's magic A puppet to the goddess's whims She is perfect, He thinks, But he is still not happy. needs work but has potential - Atlas And sometimes fear is a Cassandra
Calling out the thing you knew to be true Only to be ignored For the sake of bravery Cassandra always prevails, in the end. and always at great cost - Atlas |
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