Destructivity

So, Homer, what ideas do you spring today?
Poet that you were, our poetry is not like yours,
So do not be afraid to offer something else.

A story? Yes, a story!
But what shall be written? Ancestor, inspire me!

A war story, perhaps?
Told on an epic scale, set in the days of legend,
When gods roamed the Earth,
And men fought not with silver iron, but with golden bronze instead.

An account of a hero's rise and demise must be included, of course,
To personify my imaginary catastrophe,
Glorious, yet deliciously tragic too.
Like a gladiator, each victory only gives him one more day.

A gladiator? Ah, they were born long after you returned to dust.
But they knew of you!
By them you were embraced, worshipped.

So what is the purpose of this story?
Of course, our shared hedonism leads to one option!

Pleasure!
No other earthly requirement is as necessary as sweet joy and laughter.
But how might the deadly subject be made pleasurable?
The tragic hero, focus of the event, is glorious...

So glorify the event!
Descended from wild beasts, the dominant predators,
We humans are perfectly capable of sadism and malice.
The river of blood shall be described as a river of wine.

So what do you think, ancestor?
Nay, do not waste your breath!
Even in your unknown grave, I know you are dancing.

To the shelves this masterpiece shall go!
Let my morbid visions meet the eyes of mouldable minds!

The wine red river shall flow!

And the rapture,
begin.