Ode to Juno

i

In my ruddy restless dreams, she has been duly bidden;
Through pomegranate seeds of thought, how she does grow;
So vibrant, wild, in wind bitter: and so mirthlessly ridden;
Her savage scarlet hair flows cold, in wild thorny groves.
How she stands defiant; demonstrative and to herself so true,
This image of the ruler and the shaper of the ancient state,
And how hard are her udders:  bloated ripe and like fig glue;   
They’re ready for the suckling child: the greedy devourer to take.
Yet, so alone she stands,  so determined: a golden sceptre in hand;
While her chariot of peacocks, thunders against the fast flashing sky,
As she shows a defying finger to her husband’s haste sparked cry.    

ii

But how her dark green eyes, bring forth a sad and forlorn frown,  
That leaves me, to then break me and then split me on the ground;
In the hope that her inquisitional laws will ruffle my offset crown.
Oh that   fearsome titan, with such beautiful bow-less lovers eyes,
That  are filled with piteous , pious,  vain-glorious and hideous lies;
 In which a pause brings forth a cyst,  that becomes the final catalyst,
As she cries that no God or man is fit for her feline sensual seduction.
It leads –inevitably- to the fight of love and her almost total destruction.  
 And in the image of the cuckoo her tears in rivers are now revealed;
For her suffrages are now bare for all the Gods to see:  her vile rape.
That then forced the huge price from Zeus for her so sacred virginity;
A non-marriage to have his shameful act concealed for all of eternity.

iii

 And in her haemorrhage of amorphous rage there is no moral mistake;
There is simply the act that comes out from the urge of lust-led desire,
 For the empty throne just does what he wants:  he is, he simply takes;
But in his voice there is a guttural flaw that by the Gods is just raked.
 And  oh, how she does not hide her claim upon this, my old tatty soul;
As she points out the fault in my stars this un- heeded path:  my destiny,
That she built from her will to make this shape of myself so whole;
In the hope that I would be good enough to touch her serendipity.
 And as she rides this in cycles that spiral in flows so riddled and riven,
She forgets the backswing pendulum of a benediction seen so serene;
Where rests the thought that a marriage of clean living is ugly and obscene.  
So dear Juno writhe in this my goatskin till the law makes me forgiven;
And by our taste, in this haste, and in the bitterness of a loveless kiss
 Help me once more to climb those three steps enter into your terrible temple
 And leave a gullied guiled and guilt edged gift that itself is covered with flysch.

© adh 2014