Coeval European Cutting-edge Theater, 2022 AD

Unfolding in front

 

Of heady, blood- 

Shot eyes, the worst 

 

Possible scenario, most 

Horrible war embroidered 

 

With the best 

Intentions of all 

 

Those terrible 

Hacks-in-waiting 

 

Behind rustling, heavy 

Curtains. 

 

 

 

Vicious Cycle Of Procrastination, Or One Frog Good, Two Frogs Better

What is never 

Explained satisfactorily 

And always 

 

Left for much, 

Much later is why 

Time after time 

 

You need 

To ask yourself why. 

 

 

 

Don't Just Stand There, Poet

All those knotholes 

There in the dark 

 

Oak-paneled room, 

How is it 

 

You cannot see 

The one 

 

Bump on a log? 

 

 

 

Grave Monumental Dedication

Reel off another 

One of those patriotic 

Pat pablum paeans of yours 

Praising the glory of war over 

My dead body and imagine 

Once and for all those numberless 

Numbing skulls turning one 

Deaf ear to you after another. 

 

 

 

Illusive Lantern

When you write 

Poetry, they ask me 

 

Do you do it 

In the morning,

 

At noon or night? 

And does it make 

 

Any difference 

As long as you 

 

Do it right? All I can say is 

I’ve spent most 

 

Of my life, right or wrong, 

Looking askance 

 

At that slant glint 

Of piercing light, still 

 

Waiting for the first sign 

I was right.