Angry Olympus Awaits

We kings and queens have let
Our subjects run amok.
They line up on our stoop and wait
For us to straighten up.

Their anxious anger lies
In waiting for their lords
To take our rightful place on earth,
And taking up our swords

Prune back Bacchus’ vineyards
Until the small, mean grapes
Can grow their full round summer sweet,
And wine will fill the lakes.

Ceres’ sheaves lie rotting
In barns while fields are bare.
She cries for glut and lack to cease
And for some bread to share.

Neptune’s rage is vicious.
He thrashes, and he squalls.
He’s waiting for a voice to calm him.
He listens for a call.

Stern Minerva’s longing
To set her helm and spear
Aside must wait for us to learn
To keep peace someplace near.

Apollo tunes his lyre
To inharmonic songs.
His bleeding fingers pluck bad notes.
He doesn’t know what’s wrong.

Diana sits in darkness.
She holds her broken bow.
She hides from all the broken maids
She cannot save or know.

Jupiter’s unrighteous rule,
Full of fits and tantrums,
Speaks of a child who took a role
His kings unwisely ran from.

Juno weeps for broken
Homes and faithless grooms.
She cannot bless a bride who strays
Or open empty wombs.

Vulcan’s forge is blazing
With all-consuming fires.
He cannot stop or say enough
Or quench all his desires.

Vesta’s hearth has blazed
Out of all control.
Without a guide, she burns out homes
And does not count the toll.

Mars once tended gardens,
Then he defended walls.
Green hands turn red and soaked with blood
To heed our battle calls.

Beautiful, the goddess
Of love and gentle sex
Became, without a tending hand,
A queen of sex objects.

Mercury still walks the
Roads and paths and byways.
He searches near and far for our
Returning on the highways.

Beautiful Olympus
Is tattered and worn down.
It waits for sons and daughters of
Adam to wear our crown.

They wait for guidance, guards,
And gardeners, for kings beneath the King,
To partner with the King of All
And set right everything.

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