TOROJAN WOMBMEN
Toorojan Wombmen
have helmet heads
love licorice
(it is their
most guilty pleasure)
hate
allsorts
would send all allsorts
down to Poseidon’s locker
something fishy already
felt about the smell
Oh but the Achaeans
are coming
the Myrmidions are coming
loaded with logic
and rationality
their armour as
bad-bullet proof
as Blackpool rock
(so many cavities
in the fangs
you
are bearing
so much yellow enamel
in need of bleach)
HARPIES
They tug at the heat strings with state of the art wirecutters
so let us call them
“Harpies”
double envelopment
they have
broken through
both flanks
and encircled humanity
the minds they have captured
headed fod relentless torture
but this
blue bunting, red-
hot pokers
is all about mythology, about
Palladian architecture
and ancient meanings
the ocean sighing as it pulls
back from.the Dover shore
before biting further
into ths landscape
no time to
set fire to the ships we
must imagine them burning
must instruct
the plebs to
see them burning
everything so gaslit
it is plain
as day
and there
quoting disparately
in elementary Latin stands
our Caesar
sort of stands our Caesar
Oh when will
such a Caesar ever
come again?
poems 2 die for