Duty calls the poets
To the front whenever hard-
Line rabble-rousers appear—
Dishonor awaits
Those that dawdle,
Displaying their pussy-
Whipped corpuses to the other
Pussies in the rear.
Moderator’s comments: My beret goes off to il miglio fabbro* Huuk for this long-overdue devastating little bombshell of a poem aimed straight at the wishy-washy, nay, empurpled hearts of so many of my fellow poets who choose to sit out conflicts of conscience astride barbed wire fences—and to whom I can only say—have a goddamn heart, you blasted cockscombs, you’re getting too near!
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