Minos (2007)
Hopefully, one day, Dick Cheney will have to stand before this dude...
From you could have written it yourself Wikipedia:
In Greek mythology, Minos...was a mythical king of the island of Crete, son of Zeus and Europa. After his death, Minos became a judge of the dead in Hades. The Minoan civilization has been named after him.
[...]
Minos reigned over Crete and the islands of the Aegean Sea three generations before the Trojan War. He lived at Knossos for periods of nine years, at the end of which he retired into a sacred cave, where he received instruction from Zeus in the legislation which he gave to the island. This included the establishment of pederasty as a means of population control on the island community: [They] “segregated the women and instituted sexual relations among the males so that women would not have children" (from Aristotle's Politics).He was the author of the Cretan constitution and the founder of its naval supremacy.
In Attic tradition and on the Athenian stage Minos is a cruel tyrant, the heartless exactor of the tribute of Athenian youths to feed the Minotaur. It seems possible that tribute children were actually exacted to take part in the gruesome shows of the Minoan bull-rings, of which we now have more than one illustration.
[...]
In Dante's The Divine Comedy, Minos sits at the entrance to the second circle in the Inferno, which is the beginning of proper Hell. Here, he judges the sins of each soul and assigns it to its rightful punishment by indicating the circle to which it must descend. He does this by circling his tail around his body the appropriate number of times. He can also speak, to clarify the soul's location within the circle indicated by the wrapping of his tail.
Upper right corner detail of Minos
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Made with FraSZle. Post-processed until the image proclaimed me to be a heretic, wrapped its tail around itself six times, and sent me to my proper circle.
My art web site is still off line. Here's why.
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2 comments:
Minos
Vermillion stains the brood:
Identities peel from his face
Pale, invisible, almost crude,
Emaciated as pulp from mace.
What he knows no one will know
Except for spies and suicides.
Batteries for his heart run low
Beneath the shredded classifieds.
His will is mightier than the pen,
For what are words but burning ash?
All constitutions are framed by men
His corporations corrupt with cash.
[Disposable Poem July 28, 2007]
Dr. Mike
DR.M...
I love the poem and hope he is not disspeared....that would be awful....
Terry your site is still a visual feast...so sorry you are having Blogdom woes- trouble...I don't understand the "orbit" quagmire- but it looked bad from the letter exchange - so sorry...
take care...
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