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Copyright 2023 James LaFond
a Crackpot Book
Lynn Lockhart: Publisher
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Dust Cover
750 B.C. : Homer, father of heroic poetry, sung of the war that killed Achilles, a war that brought fear to gods and sorrow to men, and cast Odysseus adrift on furious seas of divine hate.
460 B.C.: Aeschylus, father of tragedy, a veteran of war, wrote of the war that bound Prometheus, that brought fire to man and sorrow to gods.
Of Ichor and War is an attempt at heroic tragedy confounded of the author's reading of Homer and Aeschylus.
link › en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homer
Acts of the Ichor War
-1. Bed of War
-2. Tent of Rage
-3. On a Plague Shore
-4. Hand of the Shimmering Whore
-5. Torrent of Discord
-6. Wiley Woe at War
-7. City of the Shield
-8. Of A Mist-Born Shore
-9. Breaker of Horses
-10. Upon the Rock of Throes
-11. Of Brazen Wing
-12. When Furies Crow
-13. To Hear Eternity Sing
Each Act of this Tragedy will be related by the three muses of War:
Discord
Panic
Rout
according to their ken…
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For Summer, wherever she has gone.
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“These scurrilous legends come along to bow the heads of renegades only after they have been denied the right to speak. Their soul purpose is to make the tormenting voice sound within us, the voice of order, to which we are ultimately so attached that we surrender to its mysteries and hand it our lives.”
-Eric Vuillard, The War of the Poor
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Who Am I?
Original Verse by Jack Man August 26 2021
Who am I?
You know me,
I am Vast,
My Touch reaches around this world,
I want to last
some may call me whore,
But many call me mother,
I make and I create
I also smother
You little gear - you can’t escape me,
And you can’t destroy me
As I am big and too many
Just so you try and flee
Why don’t you just serve me?
Chaos is my bitter nemesis,
I demand orderly progress,
With countless small and bigger steps,
Resulting in more or less
I gave you so much less worries,
What is this freedom anyway
Do you really want to live in anarchy
the weak and the ambitious want me,
They need me
as I fulfill thy destiny,
They feed me
My belly growing steadily
Why don’t you back down
Why don’t you bow down
Can´t you see all that I gave,
I devour you - from cradle to grave
Just wait
Who am I?
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Thanks to Poet who sent this at a time when the spark was needed.
James LaFond, pondering the recent slaying of ten novel ideas and the fate of the four that remain, Of Ichor and War being the one that this writer fears, and it seems, will face last of all in the echoing hall.
-Colonia, New Jersey, Tuesday, May 30, 2023
