Hark ye oh,friends and strangers,

A tale there is to speak

About fabled hero,

His name was in old Greek.

I cant remember how it went,

am old and cannot  tell,

But this old nameless hero,

was born to raise some hell!!

But this old nameless hero,

was born to raise some hell!!

A shield he had , the hero,

A rifle , smooth of bore

It was a lover's present,

From a forlorn distant shore

With implements like these he marched

Up mountains , down in dale

But he had   but one talent only

And that was to raise hell!!

But he had   but one talent only

And that was to raise hell!!

His name was Jason, i recall

My mem’ry stirs anew,

I had a fear I'll never know

This noodle’s burnt in stew.

Oh, Jason is the name, at last,

Oh fortune , rung that bell

The smoothbore-rifle’d hero

Who was going to raise hell!!!

The smoothbore-rifle’d hero

Who was going to raise hell!!!

Upon a galley sailed he,

Equipped as I have told,

He knew all kinds of hardships

And often short of gold

Resorted to eat snow and frogs,

and rowed in  gusts and quells

Be he did not complain at all

He’s going to raise hell!!

Be he did not complain at all

He’s going to raise hell!!

He rowed the galley by himself,

And thus he sailed in arcs

One side he rowed and then the next

across the splinterin’ planks,

On benches there sat no one, he

pulled oars alone, propel

Cause all the others got the hint

He was going to raise hell!!

Cause all the others got the hint

He was going to raise hell!!

Perhaps I should have mentioned it,

My memory’s not the best

It’s hard for me to keep this up,

And tell you all the rest

Explain I must, and tell it true

Omit no vague detail,

’bout Jason and his rotten ship

In search of raising hell!!

’bout Jason and his rotten ship

In search of raising hell!!

He reached a distant island

Cruel and jagged, rocks and shoals

The waves crash fiercely on him

broke the keel , and breached the hold

but Jason didn’t mind that much,

He jumped into the swell

And brought his rifle and his shield, he

The best to raise some hell!!

And he brought his rifle and his shield

The best to raise some hell!!

My head hurts much , I beg to rest

And help me take some zinc.

The fire dims , the mind goes numb

To recollect and think.

If I could tell this story

as I was once,  young and hale

Then surly t’would be smoother

Telling Jason's raisin’ hell!!

Then surly t’would be smoother

Telling Jason's raisin’ hell!!

Awash he was, on blackened shore,

His galley torn and sunk,

There was no light and fiercely cold,

But Jason still had spunk,

He gathered, netting all that washed ,

As waves and thunders knell

and made a cosy fire, he

So cold while raising hell!!

and made a cosy fire, he

So cold while raising hell!!

‘tis awkward, I‘ve forgotten now,

That island’s curse’d name

There were no trees to give him fruit

no kindling to take flame

No mango , no bananas

There’s just sand in the dry well

A test of thirst and hunger,

As he went on to raise all hell!!

A test of thirst and hunger,

As he went on to raise all  hell!!

And thus, he, ill-provisioned,

Lips a-cracking he proceed

Along, the shore became a vale

Foreboding his heart plead,

The gravel, black and sharp it was,

A putrid sulfurous smell

He knew at once he was not lost,

He was approaching hell!！

He knew at once he was not lost,

He was approaching hell!！

Upon arriving at the gates ,

Abandoned he all hope

The red horned beast approach’ed

made to tie him with a rope,

But Jason, he did stir and shot

The demon who there dwell,

it was his master that he wants

The boss-man , who raise hell!!

Cause it was his master that he wants

The boss-man who raise hell!!

upon the throne, Beallzebub

her fork tongue flick and flail

Around the dungeon, torture cries,

direction signs in braille,

the learned know, the damned can't see,

through sense of touch they spell

instructions that are written

in the lower decks of hell!!

instructions and directions

in the lower decks of hell!!

now Jason he did bow and kneel

and said 'I've come at last'

this place is gross, and you look bored,

why are you so downcast?

the piece I've got, a smooth- bore rifle,

And a shield O, Belle

but neither is of use to cheer things,

in this disappointing hell!!

but neither is of use to cheer things,

in this disappointing hell!!

the lady, she's a wicked one,

but eager to impress,

the minions sent redecorating,

she wont spare no expense,

and while they hammered, broke the walls

they holed up in her cell,

They matching the cacophony

with randy shrieks of hell!!

They matching the cacophony

with shrieks and cries of hell!!

alas my friends I'm all speeched out,

my throat now hoarse and rough,

i framed in verse this stupid tale,

my affliction was a bluff,

it was no faulty memory,

that brought this artless mell

in rhyming scheme and meter

that should be consigned to hell!!

in rhyming scheme and meter

that should be consigned to hell!!

The bullets were gone. So was the medicine.

“I’m too small,” my daughter complained. “I can’t go. I’m just a girl.”

“Your mind is a rifle,” I said, my skin clammy. “Your skin, a shield. Your bones, armor.”

“What good are mind and skin and bones 'gainst a bear that wants meat? ’Gainst snow that snatches warmth with a touch? ’Gainst men who crave both flesh and warmth?

“Books made you think you’re civilized. You’re not. You’re a girl, a human, a beast. As much as the bear with its strength and claws and teeth. The eagle’s flight, vision, talons, and beak. The cat with its stealth. The frog, lover of water and earth, and its tongue, and its leaps. All beasts have their powers, but none as powerful as yours, my girl. Your wits conquer all. They make you more vicious than any other creature.”

“I’ve never gone to town alone,” she said. “A full day’s walk in knee-deep snow. A night alone in the forest....The light dies so early in winter. And the night lasts so long.”

I awkwardly unwound the dressing on my thigh to explain. The pus bubbled a gross green around the wound, a clear message. Help, or I would not live long.

“My love,” I said. “I would not ask this, but at present, I see no options. Though I won't make you, and I won't lie to you. There is danger in the journey. But I wouldn't ask this, if you were not who you are. The young woman you’ve become. You are fierce, sweet pea, like a winter storm. You are a force of nature. Had you a different disposition, with a weak piece to you, I would not let you go.”

She looked at me, fiery and resolute, tempered by my words. My God, I could see her mother so clearly.

She nodded.

“At the wharf there's a place called ‘The Galley,’ owned by a man named Stones. He will give you food and water, and help you procure the medicine I need. Have him come back with you, with more supplies than you can carry. Ask for him by name and tell him I’m your father. As a test of identity, ask him what got caught in our netting off the coast of Greenland?”

“What’s he s’posed to say?”

“A baby seal. White as clouds. We pulled it up and let it out. Fed it some fish and let it play around the deck awhile, then slipped it back in the water. It weren't old enough yet to be wary. Not like you.”

My daughter packed wares, dressed thick, and met dawn in stride.

Stones was a good man. He’d look after her.

I was tangled in a piece of old gross netting on a galley ship that was docked on the east side of my island home. I rifled though my bag trying to find the sharp knife that I had only used once (to kill a frog) it was an awkward position I was in, my bag was on my back and hard to reach. I tried not to cry out for help, I could do this on my own. I tried to work quickly, so I wouldn't have to explain how I got into this predicament. I could complain to the person that had become my lover later. He would be present, and he would listen. He would touch my shoulder gently and shield my eyes from the sun's light that would stream though the windows.

I finally cut a piece of the netting, and I fell to the snow covered deck. I quickly dusted off the snow as if it were live ants and ran off the ship, not wanting to test my luck against the fleet coming ever closer to the shore.

A light snow began falling as they brought me on board, bloody and beaten. Trussed with a gross piece of fish netting like a wild beast, I was beyond help. They had taken my weapons, but in my present state, the rifle and shield wouldn’t do me any good; any more than complaining would.

The delicious aroma of fried frog legs coming from the galley was an overwhelming test of my willpower, but I wasn’t sure they would feed me—the captain was a cruel vixen. I was lucky she even let me live.

We'd met in the tavern last night, and had quickly become lovers. This morning however, things had gotten awkward.

I tried to explain we were from different worlds, but that only touched off the powder-keg of her temper, and she’d called for her guards.

Maybe she will keep me as slave…

———————

©2022 dustygrein

there's a frog

in my throat

its neck swelling

against the bones

of my spine.

its croak

is like the scream

of a rifle

as it fires,

bullets trapped

in the netting

of bodies.

and i cannot complain

for i have no voice.

i am not captain

of my galley,

held prisoner

by the beast

in my gullet.

and i cannot explain,

for words

are my long lost lover.

i've become

afraid of swallowing

for fear

of what might live

in my gut,

some swamplike

abomination

that burns through

my stomach lining

like snow, rotting

bare fingers.

and i cannot cry for help,

too imprisoned by the present,

a silent shield

that keeps my mouth shut

in fear of what i may let out

into the light.

my trachea is lined with slime,

food has become gross.

breathing is

awkward,

with every

heave of my chest

it feels as though

the walls of my

esophagus

touch.

each question

is a test

to see if i'll dare

to swallow the frog

and speak out.

but i say nothing,

because my voice

is in pieces,

shattered

by the bloated body

of the frog

that lives

in my throat.

Shield me Lover with your skilled Rifle

Touch me and I’ll Help you find the Light

Live in the Present

you said

now Explain

why I Became the Frog when we kissed

not to Complain

but you’ve made me into a Beast

an Awkward Gross one at that

my Snow white scalp outgrowing my ginger fuzz

as you cry you’ve overgrown the ability to Live in this Gallery

flashbulbs Netting our every moment

but my dear

the Test you demand of me darling

is a daunting Piece of hell.

"I don't mean to COMPLAIN, but to EXPLAIN," the old man started, as he poked his head into the doorway, while I held the entrance door like a SHIELD, "you see, I live not far from Zaporizhia. My village has been bombed recently, and I had to move to Dnipro. Please let me in for this night."

An AWKWARD pause lasted about half a minute. I felt I had to HELP the poor old man, for I had relatives in Donbas who had to flee in a similar way eight years ago, when the war had just begun. His luggage turned out to be LIGHT: one bag and some package, reminding a PRESENT wrapped in a PIECE of tarpaulin.

I LIVE alone and have no friends or LOVER to visit me, so there was nothing GROSS in the man staying here. He TOUCHED my arm. His hand was cold as that of a FROG or a sea BEAST - who knows how long he had been under the rain and SNOW.

I cannot remember how he left the next day. Perhaps he was in a hurry, as he forgot his package. I had nothing but to loosen the NETTING and unveil the tarpaulin; for a moment, I could not believe my eyes. The item I had just unpacked was a printed gravure from the early nineteenth century, depicting a GALLEY with slaves on it and a Turkish guard pointing his RIFFlE on them. I have no doubt concerning its originality, being a former artist myself. The picture has not been tested anywhere yet, howewer, for I keep it at home.

I could not recollect any information about the owner anymore, as he had left no phone number, not even his name or surname. The gravure is sure to BECOME a burden for me.

Frog legs frying in a swamp ship’s galley

Netting stretched, shields against mosquito snow

My rifle leans in an awkward corner, a gross reminder

Of the beast below.

Complain again, explain once more

Become a slave to touch my lover

In murky light, eyes peer and glow

The bayou tests, God help me live

And the voodoo queen

Holds her doll

The piece of me

Ever present to her beck and call

Watching from the Galley, I see only a Beast, with no Piece of my former Lover anywhere in the Netting of this Life we have woven.

Perhaps I should Complain about the Snow to get your attention.

Rather…

Frog in your throat? I seethed.

As I watch you Rifle through my private papers.

An Awkward pause, as you Present your angle and attempt to Explain the Gross negligence I just witnessed.

Help me understand.

What have you Become?

You live for conflict and yet Shield yourself from my inquiry.

Perhaps the Light Touch of my Blade will Test your tongue.