Littoral Expanse

Literally on edge, 
The complacent self-

Same image now 
No longer

Grounded, breaks in- 
To an un- 

Broken recitative 
Of waves leaving 

Nothing to chance. 

Has-been Apprentice Hack

NON-DISCLAIMER: This is a work of poetry; as such, it is the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is definitely not coincidental in any way, shape, or form. On the contrary, it is clearly intended to enlighten the reader as to the character of the splashy, hubris-filled blowhard now playing hack actor playing at playing the role of the most powerful man in the world—a part soon to be assumed and straightaway transmogrified into a bit player’s nightmare by a most desperately driven, artful director called Nemesis.  

Used to be 
You could tell how

Hot you were from how 
Much fake precipitation dripped

From your forehead 
As you manipulated your way

Up Broadway to no end—what 
A farce, my no longer cool friend!

No more easily anticipated 
Big splash round the bend, 

Only just too much 
No sweat vaporized

In the sweltering end.

Huuklyeand Cinquor On Postmodern Poetry's Distressing Emphasis On Omphaloskepsis

"The question of the nature of navel fluff seems to concern more people than one would think at first glance.”  – Dr. Georg Steinhauser, chemist 

Reflecting 
One way or another 
On the idea that 
Idiot in its ancient 
Greek sense did not 
Mirror what it means today, 

But rather someone so 
Caught up in his self- 
Importance that he is 
Useless to society really 
Makes one kind of wonder, 
Does it not? 

Moderator’s comments: Huuk, I suppose it does but if so, shouldn’t that questioning spirit supply us with real answers rather than ending in a vapid query that does nothing but prolong the agonizing naval-gazing status quo that characterizes a great deal of contemporary poetry, yours included? 

Know Thyself, Dude

Like the man said 
Before he drank his last 
Bitter draught toasting 
Man’s stupidity, 
One thing only I know, 
And that is that 
I know nothing. 
. 

Say you do not know, 
You know. 
. 

Say you know, 
You do not know. 
. 

You know? 
. 

If not, you must be 
Some kind of stupid.

In a Rut, or Business as Usual in the Land of Timeworn Phrases

Here 

In the civilized 
West, whenever we hear

Of some poor soul beaten 
To death by a crowd

Of angry barbarians 
In some god-

Forsaken corner 
Of the globe,

We change channels. 

Lazarus

Emma, should you 
Miraculously emulate 
Your celebrated namesake 

By appearing before 
Your lady-in-waiting 
Once more, keep in mind 

Her lamp is tarnished 
And the door now 
Shutting, golden no more. 

Dystopian Ways and Means

Oh yes 
Indeed, we aim 
To please the tired, 
The teeming destitute 
Derelict masses washed up 
Like so much flotsam 
On our shores, 
By keeping our eyes 
Always on target, 
Even if it means losing 
What we set out for.