Lares and Penates

Household Gods.
Since the fall of Care-oh and Scaught
or really
since the fall of Bean and Scaught
I wander in search of a place to put 'em.
Like pious Aeneas
at the fall of Troy.
Actually
more like Aison.
Jason.
Not born from the Gods.
like Achilles
like Aeneas.
Jason is mortal
and
Jason has problems
forced on a difficult journey
he didn't choose.
He doesn't like it.
Neither do I.
Right now
I am washed up.
Take that any way you want to
and you'll be correct.
Washed up on a strange continent.
Welcomed by the inhabitants of a city
where my past glories are celebrated.
That was an age of heroes
Pilot County Suites and Candy Aquamarine.
It's gone now
like my youth.
Like my desire shoulder the battered weapons
of volume and rhythm
and stand again in the field
"bringing it" as the Hatcheted Heart likes to say.
Useless
like stooped Priam in young man's gear
making a last stand against the Greeks.
At least he had a wife to tell him he looked
like a fool.
But we is alone
n kinda lost.
Somewhere in these books I keep reading
over and over
there lies a sign that points the way
or a good wind to fill my sails
and allow me to gently disembark
from this crumbling dreamland.
Yup.
I'm still looking
for Aeneas' Italy
for Jason's Golden Fleece
for a safe place
to put my Lares and Penates.
My household Gods.