Perambulatory Archilochos

To each his own, 

Under blossoming 

 

Dogwood and oak, one 

Person at once poet 

 

And mercenary, out 

Walking through ragged 

 

Paper thin fragments 

Of a cutting mind, still 

 

Trying to get it all 

Together, one fragile 

 

Piece at a time. 

 

 

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.