Sing, O Muse, of Akoetes the goodly sailor turned prophet of the piping and dancing lord.
Only the eyes of a God-fearing man could be so pious to recognize his crewmates had captured a God.
He begged for the freedom of the Liberator and so was the only one spared His wrath.
Like how the dolphins dance on the waves so too does Akoetes in the procession of the Lord Dionysos.
Hail to you first of prophets Akoetes! I praise you in song but I shall call to my mind both you and another song.
To Jim Morrison
Sing, O Muse of the Lizard King, Jim Morrison of the Doors’ fame.
Leather-breeched and well-maned he sang of tragedy and ecstasy possessed by the souls of Indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding.
With his shamanic thrusts he called the chthonic snakes from the lustful shadows of our minds and brought us all to the Lord.
Like wine he was two-natured: wise one minute and furious the next like a noble bull who is lord over his pasture.
Hail to you prophet who sings from beyond the veil! We praise you in song but we shall call to our minds both you and another song.
Sing, O Muse, of Melampos who served as prophet of the Lord Dionysos.
Black were his feet and black is the blessed land of Egypt where Bacchus sits in the West from which Melampos spread the mysteries he knew.
So one was he with the kingdom of the Lord that Melampos was granted knowledge of the speech of animals.
He cured madness with song and ended feuds with trees.
Truly all followers of the God Who Comes should pay obeisance to Melampos lest they do not become as excellent as he.
Praise be to you, Melampos, custodian of exotic lore. We praise you in song. But we shall call to our minds both you and another song.
Sing, O Muse, of Herakles! The Lion-hearted Son of Zeus who had boldness in His heart.
One day when the great hero was roaming about the Earth He encountered heart-gladdening Dionysos with His throngs of goodly followers.
Herakles the lover of glory could not endure the temptation to try and best the Wine God at His own game and so challenged the Lord of Fruit-bearing Italy to a contest of appetites.
Ever so cunning like a panther seeing his chance to strike, the Lord Dionysos accepted His brother’s challenge but on one condition: Herakles must suffer Himself to be bound to the service of the Mad God should coveted Nike cling to Bacchus like a bride to her lord.
Accepting the terms, the mighty sons of cloud-gathering Zeus did battle not with spears but with cups as draught after draught was drained.
Thirst roared as lion-like Herakles and pantheresque Dionysos slaked Themselves well into the dwindling hours of day.
Seas became deserts. Rivers ran no longer.
The clouds themselves had absconded from the sky when finally a great noise revealed the winner of the red-soaked agon.
Herakles’ well-crafted body fell upon the earth and its thud announced Nike’s crowning of Dionysos as the victor.
True to His word the Son of Alcmene clasped hands with Semele’s wondrous son and on that day rivals became friends.
Praise to you Bacchic Herakles who dances even now among the Saints of the True Vine.
I praise you in song. But I shall call to my mind both you and another song.
To the Muses
Sing, O Muse, of you and your sisters!
The blessed Goddesses of the Arts and Sciences who inspire bread-eating mortals. Even the wandering orbs of the heavens are under the influence of your songs.
The music of the spheres shall forever play on as the Muses dance throughout the cosmos with Bacchus.
A different Muse with a different mask for a different planet produce the nuances of the world in an orchestra of divine excellence as They altogether animate the cosmos with the undying force of life.
Hail to you, celestial Muses!
I praise you in song but I shall call to my mind both you and another song.