Collisions between yours truly and the missus
By Matthew Harris
Collisions between yours truly and the missus
Space at a premium
in our apartment
lettered and numbered b44
at Highland Manor,
cuz the spouse
heavily trends toward disorderliness.
She readily admits her predilection
to disavow being a neatnik,
yet owns the capacity
getting down to brass tacks
to tidy up whenever the warden
who rivals the military police
announces requisite inspection.
We dread unwelcome visits
courtesy management triumvirate
whereby anticipatory anxiety
put on high alert,
especially when management
gives less than a week
to critique admitted slovenliness,
moreso linkedin with living social
with the wife what seems like an eternity.
Belongings strewn helter skelter
no matter exhaustive effort I exert
to wage futile effort
analogous battling constant war
upon messiness and
duel against outsize dust bunnies
that put up quite a fight.
Squalid conditions
(hyperbolic exaggerations
incorporated to affect) unfit
for man and/or beast,
hence notion that rocks
and rolls me noggin
while furiously house cleaning
on bended, limned,
and wounded knees,
thus positioned I pray
to Unitarian divine manifestation,
who doth administer enlightenment
as planet earth rotates on its axis
from west to east
revealing scarred, pockmarked,
battered landscape (Gaia weeps)
once pristine virginal
terrestrial firma paradise lost,
where industrialization increased
mayhem across oblate spheroid.
Disproportionate possessions
belonging to the wife
haphazardly and higgledy-piggledy strewn
represents the apotheosis
of hugger mugger decor
and on microcosmic scale
bears witness to global capitulation
and trademark signature
of merciless exploitation
assuaging insatiable gratification
unanimously outsourced
infamous execrable creature
known as *****sapiens.
Impossible mission
to suppress and withhold
married to counterpart
who would most likely be aghast
at aforementioned tattle tale told,
yet any family member polled
would attest wherever
Harris family dwelled
I lichen their trail
to how tornado didst mold
the landscape, nevertheless
a steadfastness to remain
married and hold
dear significant other
of two plus dozen years
as precious as fine spun gold
yet I daresay wishing
to escape habituations of missus
foremost (tra) reason abduction
fills mine quite over active imagination
please pardon moi being bold.
After her, after Pallas, Triton never sired a child. He never set foot on the surface world again. Against the belief of many, his father included, he was content that way. He was even happy.
Perhaps that is why he could not stop himself from starting to love the change the Fates have brought into their family. Since Perseus, the sea was different because Poseidon was never angry, never sad.
His happiness had made him forget the consequences that came with the illusion of a naive world.
The sea had a fatal flaw. It was greed.
She swallowed everything that came near her mouth, the sand, the river, the mountains, everything. Even Zeus knew not to come near the territory of Poseidon. Such was the fear and respect of the sea.
Sometimes, her children learned the flaws from her instead of inheriting the best of qualities.
Greed, envy; Kymopoleia was close to her doom.
When Poseidon raged, and the sea cried horrible sounds, Triton had known that something terrible had passed, and it had to be related to Perseus.
The waters turned colder when Poseidon felt his son's soul leaving his body. Everything was brought to a standstill.
Eyes wide in horror, Poseidon broke the silence before a storm. It was not too long before his eyes showed nothing but pure anger.
His trident appeared in his hand which glinted a sick color. It glowed, but the glow was anything but divine.
This was the god of the seas. This was the father of monsters at his worst.
He banged the trident on the cold stone once. The onlookers held their breathe.
A swirl of bubbles and mist appeared before them, and when it disappeared, Kymopoleia lay there. She was on her knees, her head bowed, and her form crumpled.
It did not take long to come to the conclusion that this was a violation of an Ancient Law. Poseidon had forced his own kin to appear before him for judgement.
A forced summon.
Thunder boomed ominously. The members of the court retreated to the shadows.
Zeus knew.
Poseidon did not care.
Kymopoleia was crying.
"F-Father?"
Triton did not go to stop his father. His sister would deserve what was to come.
He took a step forward and Kymopoleia turned her head to look at his feet, then slowly, she lifted her head to see his face.
He scowled at her and made no effort to hide his disappointment. With a shake of his head, he stepped back, "Never show me your face again, traitor."
And just like that, millennia of love broke into nothings.
He did not wait to see her punished.
"I cannot believe you."
"Please, I, I realize what wrong I have done." She sobbed, "but please father, let me go."
Water pushed her back and she fell disgracefully.
"Why should I? You-!" He claimed, enraged. "You deserve to rot in Tartarus for what you've done!"
"He is dying, my lord!" She shouted, her voice breaking and betraying. "He will die!" She shrunk back, quivering. "Please, my lord. Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." And the goddess kept begging.
Poseidon sneered, "I warn you daughter, if you set foot in my kingdom ever again..."
She shook her head. "Yes, never. Never."
"Go live in the wreckage and never know any throne."
Poseidon used to be the god of prophecy and there was no doubt. He uttered those words like they were the only truth in the universe.
The curse was spoken.
With Kymopoleia's fault, the blessings were also undone.
The storm goddess screamed and wailed in agony as the palace and the throne rejected her. Be gone, little goddess, Atlantis whispered in her mind.
Her essence was plucked away, and she found herself in the dust of their past symbol of royalty.
Once, a man led by his greed and ambition sacrificed the ichor of monsters he had slayed to the god of the seas.
Impressed with his devotion, the sea god gifted him the throne of a kingdom the man named after himself.
His son, pure and cheerful, made friends with the son of the god. The youthful duo found what they were missing in each other and what of the ambitious king; of course, he agreed for an alliance with the prince of the seas.
Oh, but having the favor of the King of more than half the world was not enough in face of greed.
He set for an alliance in the surface world, far beyond the limits of his own kingdom where he found a beautiful bride for his son.
The blessing his son received from the god for his love towards the demigod was becoming bound to turn into a curse. But surprisingly, the blessing strengthened even more, such was the power of the fate defier.
But what is set in stone, is must to happen.
(The king became overconfident in his achievements. He believed the curse to be nothing more than a bluff.)
Betrayal only comes from those close to you. A sister, consumed with thoughts of a brother born with power of destruction staying by her side for eternity cost the greedy king his kingdom.
Her intentions were good, but what path she walked for that was worth a punishment equal to exile.
(Apollo laughed. If he did not get the prince, it is only fair that no one else does.)
And so, the blessing turned into a curse.
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...And with this chapter we come to the end of Act I !
I hope everything was up to the expectations! It will mean a lot if you write to me about whatever you liked so far♡
Constructive criticism is also welcome.
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What do you expect to happen next...?